An Interview Where? Where’s My Slime? “Do Not Enter!” Golf on Two Worlds Apart; Squirrels!

This morning Suzanne was interviewed by Temple Hayes for her “From Good to Amazing” Unity Radio (Internet) show. Suzanne’s preparations were a bit unusual, as we are traveling in The Bus with cell phones, but the interview had to be conducted on a land line. My ever-resourceful bride figured this one out several days in advance - she looked ahead to where we would be and called the Fitness Director at the Hill AFB gym and asked whether she could use a land line telephone in an unused office this morning for an hour. Mo, the Fitness Director, graciously agreed, so this morning Suzanne set up bright and early and was interviewed as professionally as if she were in the actual studio. The interview was recorded and will be broadcast on Monday, August 27, at 5:00 PM EDT at www.unity.fm (please note the .fm in that address; it is not on a .com or .org site).  

We rode our bikes around the perimeter of Hill Air Force Base today. Well, Suzanne rode all the way; I got a flat tire 7 miles out and walked for 2 miles back toward our campground until Suzanne found me with the car still 4 miles out and picked up me and the bike. (Yes, I know I had written on our blog about the virtues of Slime, but this was my new bike, which I had not yet treated with that magic anti-puncture concoction... My Bad! At least I looked cool in my Chateau St Jean Cinq Cepages bike jersey from our Sonoma Valley wine country visit... as some of you French linguists may know, cinq in French is pronounced sank, which is how I felt when my rear tire went flat, watching Suzanne pedal off into the distance.

This morning we stopped to pick up groceries at the Air Force commissary (grocery store). This warning sign for Air Force male personnel was posted in the men’s room on “a wall fixture”. Now, I can only say that in the US Navy, we never had to tell a sailor not to enter one of those things... they were smarter than that! 

On the way we passed the Air Force’s golf course... compare it with the photo of the Navy driving range at Fallon posted the other day, as well as the underlying philosophies and priorities of the two services, and well, you can understand why Navy often loses golf tournaments to the Air Force...  ;-)   I should send apologies for any unintended slights to my Air Force friends and brother-in-law, a retired USAF LtCol. (I think that I will not apologize for any intended slights.)

This evening after Suzanne created a delicious dinner we went for a walk with Rudy and Gretchen, our dachshunds, also known as “the eternal puppies”. They are virtually untrainable, particularly Rudy; we call him Elvis, because he thinks he’s The King. But there is one thing that will really get their attention: SQUIRRELS!!!!! In this case, they are the burrowing type. Suzanne spotted one walking between two oak trees, so she said to the dogs, “Let’s go see if we can find squirrels!” Instantly they went on alert, and shot ahead to the full extent of their six foot long leads, noses in the air, almost pulling Suzanne’s arm out of the socket. When they caught the squirrels’ scent, the last sentry squirrel had just dived into his burrow 50 feet ahead, and Rudy and Gretchen’s instincts as hunters were in full bloom. Here they are sniffing at the mouth of the burrow. I think Rudy’s words were, “Holy cow, that little rodent was here just 30 seconds ago. Let me down that burrow, Dad!”  We’ve been told that a dachshund’s sense of smell is 10,000 times greater than ours, so we figure that this must be like us sticking our noses in a pizza oven. 

After the pups had their fun, here’s Suzanne getting “grounded” and enjoying the feel of this well-manicured lawn after days of dry, rocky, dusty, hot desert out in Nevada.  

Emigrant Trail; Bonneville Salt Flats; a Big Salt Mound; the Golden Spike

We are traveling along I-80 at 63 mph. In this region, the Interstate follows the 19^th century Emigrant Trail from Missouri to California. I remember reading Bernard deVoto’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Across the Wide Missouri when I was young; he was the preeminent popular historian of the West at the time, and he captivated me with his descriptions of the pioneers and their travails. The Emigrant Trail wound through pretty inhospitable country and mountain passes; covered wagon trains only made about 2 miles an hour/20 miles per day during good weather. Most people actually walked to California, rather than riding a horse or wagon. The local residents were often less than happy to see the pioneers arrive, and Indians often found alternative uses for the settlers’ horses and oxen. One of the wagon trains, the Donner party, was caught by winter storms in the California Sierras and half of the party perished. It took a hardy family to endure the trip west with all its perils and hardships. On average, 10 percent of those attempting the journey west died enroute, mostly to diseases like cholera.

We spent a good hour today crossing the Bonneville Salt Flats, which is actually a huge lakebed; during the last Ice Age, Lake Bonneville was the size of Lake Michigan, and covered one-third of the current state of Utah.

Today, it is the site of Speed Week, where high performance vehicles have set several land speed records. In 1970, Gary Gabelich piloted the rocket-propelled Blue Flame to a record 622.443 mph; I'll bet that today the EPA would try to keep him from driving that fast because of his poor fuel mileage numbers.

Ever wonder where your salt comes from? We passed this Morton Salt facility just off I-80 west of Salt Lake City. There was a pile of salt about 100 feet high with a long line of waiting railroad cars and one Wal-Mart truck.

We have just arrived in Ogden, Utah, at the Hill Air Force Base Family Campground. It’s 92F, but dry. We will be here for 4 days, resting up after our long drive from California and doing some more work on The Bus. Ogden is very close to Promontory Point, where the Transcontinental Railroad was completed in May, 1869. The Golden Spike was actually a presentation piece; it would not have lasted long in a remote railroad tie. The last spike was to have been driven home into the tie by railroad dignitaries, Central Pacific's President Leland Stanford missed the spike and hit the tie; Union Pacific's Vice President Thomas Durant. Stanford missed the spike and the tie. Both were evidently suffering from hangovers from the celebratory party the night before here in Ogden. A railroad worker then drove home the last spike. "So much for management." (This photo is from a reenactment in 2000).

This is a Driving Range? Ranchettes, Anyone? Mr Fix-It; Cowboy Poets?

Washington politicians are debating the scope of defense cuts. I would like to propose one minor addition to the defense budget. These photos depict the golf driving range at Naval Air Station Fallon. It is 250 yards long, but has a rock surface that cannot possibly provide realistic bounce characteristics to a golf ball. And the rest room facilities are at best, well, primitive. Now, I understand that golf driving ranges don't necessarily contribute directly to the national security of the USA, but physiological testing has conclusively proven that improved eye-hand coordination is important to flying high performance jets, and steroscopic vision and depth of field analysis is critical to high speed dog fights in Mach 2 jet fighters. I submit that the combat readiness of our fighter pilots is being degraded by these poor facilities at Fallon.

I think I'll write a letter to Harry Reid, Senior Senator from Nevada and Senate Majority Leader. Maybe it will help him get a grip on real issues rather than the fantasies he's been having lately regarding Mitt's taxes....

Now for Villagers who are interested in business opportunities and possibly expanding their horizons out west, we saw a sign advertising 3 acre ranchettes for only $9,950. Here is the location, west of Emigrant Pass. We obviously have an opportunity here to get in on the ground floor before the rush begins. Heck, in 20 or 30 years there will may even be a Wal-Mart here... and then, maybe not...

One of the constants about boats and RV’s is the need to keep on top of maintenance issues. Today it was replacing the fresh water pump, which after almost 10 years had finally given up the ghost. This becomes rather important when the toilet won't flush.  The hardest part was gathering all the right tools, parts, and fittings, and putting everything back together so it didn’t leak... and of course it required a lot of bending over, which wasn’t exactly easy on my old back. But the job’s done... now, what’s next on the list????

Okay, for all you world travelers... who has been to the Elko, Nevada, Western Folklife Center for the Annual Cowboy Poetry Gathering? It's been held for 27 years, and celebrates cowboy poetry, movies, traditions, etc. Held in January and February, next year's celebration will see a special visit by the butteri, Italian cowboys from southern Tuscany. I have to admit to not reading a lot of cowboy poetry, but I happened on this one by Arthur Chapman that I really liked:

Men in the Rough

Men in the rough—on the trails all new-broken—
     Those are the friends we remember with tears;
Few are the words that such comrades have spoken—
     Deeds are their tributes that last through the years.

Men in the rough—sons of prairie and mountain—
     Children of nature, warm-hearted, clear eyed;
Friendship with them is a never-sealed fountain;
     Strangers are they to the altars of pride.

Men in the rough—curt of speech to their fellows—
     Ready in everything, save to deceive;
Theirs are the friendships that time only mellows,
     And death cannot sever the bonds that they weave.

From Out where the West Begins, 1917

For more info on the Cowboy Poetry Gathering and cowboy poetry in general, please see
http://www.cowboypoetry.com
http://westernfolklife.org

From Mountains to the Desert; Top Gun

We have turned The Bus east... yesterday was a very long driving day for us, about 300 miles from Mt Shasta in the Cascade Range of Northern California to the flat, dry desert landscape of northern Nevada. Here is one view from The Bus before we crossed into Nevada.

This highway sign gave us an idea of what awaited us in the Nevada desert... "The Loneliest Road in America"???? Gee, that sounds like soooo much fun.....

We miss the tall pine, fir and redwood forests, because the heat has returned. It was 104 or so when we arrived last night at our Navy campsite. We were glad to hook up to electricity and water and turn off the generator which we had run for seven hours to keep the big air conditioners going while we descended from mountains to desert. Unfortunately, a storm came through and knocked power out at 7:30 PM, and wasn't restored for over 12 hours... so we had to run our generator all night. The dispatcher said that it was a grid problem, but in my personal opinion, the contractor electrician who was supposed to come in to fix the problem was probably out drinking last night and said, "the heck with it"... the power came back on just before 8:00AM, right at shift change.

One of the neat things about being on base is the daily colors (raising the U.S. flag) ceremony. At 7:55AM, "First Call to Colors" sounds on a bugle, which is heard on loudspeakers all over the base. Then at 8:00AM, the National Anthem is played. All traffic stops, and if you're outside, you stand at attention until the bugle call for "Carry On" is played. Then at sunset, "Taps" is played as the colors are retired for the day. Of note, the Navy retires colors at sunset, much later than the Air Force, which carries out that ceremony at 5:00PM... guess there's nobody left on an Air Force base after 5PM...  ;-)  Both of us enjoy and appreciate the tradition of colors, but Suzanne found it a bit disconcerting this morning as she was just coming out of a peaceful meditative state to have a bugle blasting "First Call to Colors" from a loudspeaker right next to The Bus. 

We are having a lay day here in Fallon, Nevada. If that name sounds familiar, you may have heard of the Naval Air Station here, home of Top Gun, the Navy’s preeminent fighter weapons training facility. For movie-goers, Top Gun is where Tom Cruise, flying an F-14, met Kelly McGillis and her Porsche 356 in the movie. Top Gun was then located at the Naval Air Station in Miramar, Calif. It moved to Fallon in 1996. 

Fallon also is the home of the Navy’s Strike and Air Warfare Center and VFC-13, The Fighting Saints, an unlikely moniker for the squadron of “adversary” aircraft that are flown against our carrier aircraft to simulate enemy fighters. Their aircraft are recognizable by the red stars on the vertical stabilizers. The 14,000 ft airfield here is the longest in the Navy. About 3,000 Navy, civilian and contractor personnel provide the nucleus of support for the aircraft carrier air wings that rotate through Fallon for integrated training prior to a carrier’s deployment for 6 months or more around the world.  Being a weekend with no visiting squadrons, the base is like a ghost town.

There are several aircraft outside the secure area that visitors can inspect closely; here are some of them, both ours and “theirs”...  unfortunately, no training is going on while we are here for two nights. Darn, we are missing out on the jet noise!

US Air Force F-16 Falcon 

US Navy F/A-18 Hornet

MiG-29 Fulcrum (one of the bad guys, an Aggressor aircraft flown by VFC-13). It was designed partly to meet the threat posed by our F-15 Eagle. Many Russian aircraft look less refined and sophisticated when compared to US models, but they are generally pretty good aircraft; they are also generally much less safe than ours. This lack of safety consciousness can also be seen in their commercial air fleet; Russian-built aircraft have the worst safety records in civilian commercial aviation.

E-2C Hawkeye, the "eyes of the fleet", an airborne early warning aircraft with long range radar.

F-4 Phantom, a Vietnam-era fighter-bomber. Suzanne commented that this one looked a bit outdated.  I reminded her that I am also a Vietnam-era fighter.  She then did what we affectionately call in the Navy a "tap dance" right there in the desert.  :-)

Bigfoot? A Walk in the Woods; Raising Trout; Shastina; Only a Little Ice Cream, Please

You may have heard of that denizen of the Pacific Northwest, Bigfoot (also known as Sasquatch to some Native American tribes in this area). We actually saw one... well, at least a representation of one, carved in wood... They are reputed to be 7-10 feet tall, weigh about 500 lbs, are covered in red or brown fur, nocturnal, and omnivorous. Tales of such ape-like creatures exist in many cultures worldwide, but recent “sightings” of Sasquatch in this area can likely be attributed to the widespread use of recreational drugs in California, Oregon and Washington State. The town of Weed, California, 20 miles north, is reputedly a popular place to see Sasquatch in the woods on a summer’s evening, at least for those sampling some of the local vegetation or chemistry projects gone amuck...  

On the positive side of life, one of Suzanne’s new friends here directed us to a lovely park nearby. We found the parking lot almost empty of cars; only one other person was walking there, a nicely-dressed, middle-aged lady. This is somewhat remarkable, because of the high incidence of hippies in the area; when we visited another park in town, most of the visitors were unwashed youngsters with multiple colored body piercings and tattoos, ragged clothes, dreadlocks, broken down cars and trucks, and pit bulls running loose. In any case, the trail here was most pleasant, and meandered through a fir, pine, and redwood forest with pine needle trails and a small, clear stream.

Close by this small park was the Mt Shasta Fish Hatchery, the oldest such facility west of the Mississippi River. I am an avid fisherman, but have never had the opportunity to take Suzanne to a trout hatchery. Since trout have to have flowing water to survive, the hatchery is monitored 24/7 with on-site staff to ensure the fish's survival.

These brook and rainbow trout were enormous by my standards, and I was about to grab one for dinner when Suzanne noted that I might be eating dinner in the town jail if I persisted. Prudence won out, so following one of the Scout’s mottos, I took only photos and left only footprints. (My bride can be a real wet blanket sometimes).

Suzanne did pose for a “how to catch them if it had been legal” instructional photograph. The resident fish hatchery worker must have wondered about her technique; she was simulating using a casting rod and reel, but most trout are caught with a fly rod... I will have to take her fishing more often.

Oh, I almost forgot, she was leaning down to look closer at the trout and touched the electric fence designed to keep bears, coyotes, and other predators out of the fish runs... fortunately, they don’t turn on the juice until dark to protect unwary tourists.  ;-)

This secondary cone west of Mt Shasta, named Shastina, is bereft of snow because of its lower elevation and the hot weather (95F today). Like Shasta itself, it is a dormant volcano. Mt Shasta's last eruption was in 1786, and was actually observed by the French explorer La Perouse from his ship on the Pacific Ocean over 100 miles to the west. Sadly, La Perouse never lived to describe the event except in dispatches; he and his entire expedition were lost when shipwrecked on coral reefs in the Solomon Islands of the South Pacific on the way home to France. Let's hope they didn't become the main ingredients for an islanders' bouilliabaisse; the Solomon Islanders were known to be cannibals back then... we, on the other hand, lived to tell our story, and this evening enjoyed barbequed ribs (not French) from a local outdoor vendor.
Dessert tonight was a shared Double Caramel Magnum Bar; Suzanne tried to give me the larger piece, but I said, "No, Sweetheart, you take the large piece; you've been working out the past two days, and the only workouts I've had were the two therapeutic massages for my bad back that I've gotten from the attractive 25 year old blonde masseuse..." Smack....

Mountain Driving; Mount Shasta; Serpentine; It’s a Dog’s Life; An Easy Labor

We are now situated at the base of Mount Shasta, in northern California not far from the Oregon state line. The drive here from the coast was... interesting... California Route 299 between Arcata and Redding is also known as the Trinity Scenic Byway. This is a deceptive term used to lure unsuspecting flatlander tourists into mountain passes and river canyons on a two-lane, twisty-turny-hairpin-infested road with numerous fully loaded logging trucks barreling down the other direction and frequent one-lane road repairs due to avalanches and rockslides. The eight (8) mile section east of Weaverville alone has 52 tight curves with average speeds of 20-25 mph. It took us almost 5 hours to go 142 miles. While it is a favorite route for tattooed riders of Harley-Davidsons and wild drivers of Corvettes, “big-rig” RV types will often go 100 miles out of their way to avoid this road. We didn’t. After all, it is a scenic byway... This is the view down into the Trinity River canyon, which the highway parallels for about 60 miles.

When you finally reach I-5 in Redding, it is with a sigh of relief. Then you head north on the interstate, steadily climbing from Redding’s 495 ft to the crest at Dunsmuir, at 2,280 ft, where Mt Shasta comes into view.  The photo on the left is ours; the one below is not.  I wanted you to think I took it from a hang glider.

Mt Shasta is a very impressive volcanic peak, 14,194 feet elevation, one of the highest mountains in the lower 48 states. Anyone who sees Shasta has to be impressed. Theodore Roosevelt commented, “I consider the evening twilight on Mt Shasta to be one of the grandest sights I have ever witnessed.” Naturalist John Muir said, “When I first caught sight of it over the braided folds of the Sacramento Valley, I was fifty miles away and afoot, alone and weary. Yet all my blood turned to wine, and I have not been weary since.”

Suzanne is very happy to be here, because the mountain has spiritual properties, as well as great beauty. She has spent time in several of the metaphysical stores and interacting with local practitioners. (I scored some points by picking out for a birthday present a beautiful piece of polished Mt Shasta Serpentine which is purported to hold the spiritual qualities of the mountain.)

This is another river gorge nearby, just below the dam at Lake Siskiyou. The terrain is quite steep in this area, so we decided not to ride our mountain bikes down the hairy singletrack trails. Every now and then common sense does find its way to the surface...

It’s that time in a dog’s life... time for baths! Suzanne had the dirty duty because of my aching back. Gretchen doesn’t look real happy, although she enjoyed being blow-dried afterwards. Now she’s really fluffy and clean, like a pretty little girl should be. Rudy got his bath, too, but asked not to be embarrassed by being photographed before his stylist finished prettifying him. He is so vain!   

Last, but not least, Suzanne has experienced an "easy labor" giving birth to her new book, The Real Alzheimer's. It is now available on Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com. It should also be available now for order from your local bookstores.

The Birthday Girls! Older Kids; Ferndale; Déjà Vu

Wednesday was a family birthday; you see, Suzanne and her mom Ruth share an August 1^st birthday. Ruth turned __ and Suzanne turned __. (Yes, I can be diplomatic.) The day started with Suzanne “Skype-ing” Ruth and Suzanne’s sister Janice, who is visiting Ruth back in The Villages. It was really nice seeing Ruth and Janice on the computer screen; it was almost as good as being there. After singing Happy Birthday for both girls, they opened cards and gifts. It was great fun connecting from across the continent. Suzanne also got a birthday call from her brother Brent, who with his wife Cheryl just became Villagers. Rudy loves helping her open her birthday presents.  

Suzanne has a birthday ritual, and she successfully completed it today; she ran non-stop for 51 minutes (5 miles), and did 51 non-stop push-ups and 51 non-stop sit-ups. AWESOME! (Oops; you may be able to guess her age now...) She was also pumped up after getting many birthday greetings from friends by email and on Facebook. Thanks to everyone who sent her greetings! Dinner out was seared ahi tuna for Birthday Girl and eggplant parmesan for the paisano. And here is Suzanne enjoying her birthday cake... er, well, okay, it’s a birthday pecan pie. She only allows herself that sinful dessert once or twice a year, although I know she secretly lusts for it much more often.  

After dinner we went for a short hike up on the west flank of Mt Shasta at 7,200 feet; it was a bit chilly, so Suzanne is wearing one of her presents, a North Face running jacket.  

Have you ever seen mature adults acting like little kids? Like when Suzanne saw me sitting on one of those big lawn tractors chained to a post in front of Lowe’s, turning the wheel back in forth with a big grin on my face? Here’s when I captured our friend Matt sitting in the cockpit of The Bus, twisting the wheel back and forth like he was highballing down I-5 at 75. Does he look like he’s having fun, or what?    

On the way up the California coast, we stopped in Ferndale at Linda and Matt’s recommendation; they joined us there for a delicious salmon salad lunch at the Victorian Inn.  

Ferndale advertises itself as a Victorian Village, in fact. Many of these buildings were built in the 1890’s-early 1900’s, and have been very well preserved/restored. It’s like stepping back in time. The first building was the local International Order of Foresters, a popular social club and insurance company back then. The second was unidentified, but beautifully built. We think they are much more pleasing to the eye than most modern commercial buildings.   

There was also a ship model builder who had several on display; I was particularly impressed by this one of the largest five-masted ship even built, the Preussen. 

While in Ferndale, I saw this old Rambler wagon, almost the twin of a green one that my parents owned back in the early 60s. My mother used to take us kids out for coffee and beignets in the French Quarter at night, against my step-father’s wishes. I would push the Rambler out the driveway and down the alley behind the house, and my mother would start it up when out of earshot of our house. Talk about a walk down Memory Lane!