teardroptravelin'

After a rain scattered night, we awoke to more sunshine with clouds around all the edges of the horizon.  We had coffee and breakfast, cleaned and stowed everything, and with the sun so bright we opened the trailer’s windows and sun roof to let the fresh air in.

Then, since we had heard there was a big hydrofoil boat race taking place on the lake, we walked about 1/2 a mile to the staging area.  It was filled with an amazing assortment of giant, powerful racing boats accompanied by huge semi-rigs emblazoned with the boat names and sponsor logos.  A large crane at the water’s edge systematically picked up each boat and gently placed in in the water by the dock.

Diana and I noticed a large storm to the west which was obviously dropping a lot of rain.   Then we got distracted with all the commotion of boats, people and cranes.  The race was scheduled to start at noon, but was delayed for some reason.  All the boats were far away across the lake and it was hard to tell when and if the race had started untill we heard the distant thunder of the racing machines at full throttle and saw the rooster tail sprays of water  behind them.

The race was scheduled to be 60 miles so we settled in to watch.  As the boats past by us on the first lap, a slight sprinkle of raindrops hit us and we walked away from the water’s edge and up under some small, covered picnic tables.  By the second lap, the rain was coming down more heavily, and before the third lap had finished, after a huge flash of lightning and clap of thunder, the race was stopped.

As we huddled under our small shelter, trying not to get wet, it slowly dawned on us that we had left the trailer completely unprotected from the weather, except for that big canopy overhead.  Did I mention that as the rain descended, the wind blew more and more stongly, with fairly intense gusts?  Well, it did.

At this point, had we decided to walk/run back to our campsite, we would have been drenched.  So we just stayed under the shelter, which we shared with several other people, all of us doing our best to stay relatively dry.  After more than 1/2 an hour, the rain slacked off, and we hustled our way back to camp.

As we crested a little hill and looked down on our camp we saw the mangled remains of our $236, almost new canopy, flipped upside down and broken over the picnic table beside our teardrop.  Pieces of aircraft grade aluminum were bent and twisted, some snapped in half, and the canopy itself was holding perhaps two or more gallons of water.

Our attention turned to the trailer itself.  The outside looked fine.  The gust of wind the presented the coup de grace to our canopy had evidently lifted it completely clear of the trailer itself.  The inside was another matter.

All of our bedding was soaking wet.  The sleeping bag, the blanket and sheets, even the memory foam mattress was wet.  Very wet.  EXTREMELY WET!

We ripped all the bedding off, rolled it up and threw it in the back of the Subaru.  Then we headed for the nearest laundromat where we spent the next couple of hours watching our bed clothes ride around and around, slowly getting dry.  After what seemed like forever, they were dry and we stopped at Chili’s on the way back to treat ourselves to a very delayed lunch/supper.

Getting back to camp, we reassembled our bed, and feeling very tired, went to sleep soon thereafter.

Lesson:  ALWAYS pay attention to the weather — especially in the desert when a freak Alaskan storm has been roaming around for the last several days.  When you see a storm that doesn’t look like it’s moving left or right, that probably means it is coming straight at you and you better make sure all your hatches are battened down.  Oh, and just because it is sunny in the morning, don’t leave all your windows open if you’re going to walk away.

Lesson learned…

Diana’s Remarks:  Just exactly how old and how experienced are we?  Evidently we are entering our second childhood.  A ranger told us later that every event but one had been  rained out at Lake Havasu this year.  But that is no excuse.  No dog ate our homework.

Poor Dead Canopy

We awoke to a bright, sunny sky and brisk temperatures.  After breakfast (al la Chef RodeWay Inn) and a little thrift shop wandering, we headed east on I-40.  After seeing a couple of “Historic Route 66” signs at off-ramps, we finally took the plunge and headed off on the two-lane blacktop “Mother Highway”.

The traffic was non-existent.  The pavement was weathered and cracked in places, and surprisingly smooth in others.  We were surrounded by desert plants, cacti, and a flood of colorful wildflowers, thanks to the recent rains.  We stopped at a wide spot in the road and found worn concrete foundations, piles of rusted tin cans, and a neatly laid out assortment of hand tools just sitting there waiting for our discovery.

Later, we entered the bustling metropolis of Amboy.  Actually it was pretty much abandoned except for Roy’s Gas & Motel, an establishment originally opened in the 1920’s.  Many folks headed west during the depression stopped here, and it really hasn’t changed that much since then.  We grabbed a cold glass bottle of “Route 66” black cherry soda and a post card with a vintage picture of the place.  Diana wrote a short note to our neighbors and we mailed it from the tiny Amboy post office, “mail pickup at 2:30 on weekdays”.

Soon we joined up with I-40 again and rolled over the Colorado river into Arizona.  We decided to swing south about 20 miles and see what Lake Havasu City had to offer.  We had called ahead and found out that the state park there had camp sites available on a first-come, first-served basis and thought we’d take a chance.  We got our pick of the remaining campsites and scored the last one with a lakeside view.  Pretty lucky for a Friday night!

We set up camp, ate dinner at the “Mud Shark Pub” (wonderful Portabello stuffed ravioli) and hit the sack after watching the PBS Nova special on the Japan earthquake on the iPad PBS app.  Amazingly good picture coming via a 3G AT&T connection!

During the night it rained intermittently, but not too heavily, and we were happy we had the nice, big 12 x 12 canopy set up over the back of the trailer, protecting our chairs and bicycles.

All in all, a nice day with interesting things to see and a pleasant spot to spend our first night outside California.

On Route 66

We woke up, grabbed coffee and made sure everything was ready.  Then, just before 10:00 a.m. we said goodbye to our good neighbor and headed off down I-80 to Highway 99.

There were some clouds in the sky, but a lot of blue, too, and we made good time, stopping for lunch in Fresno.  As we headed further south, dark clouds began to gather to the west and east.  They finally covered the sky ahead of us too, and about 20 miles outside of Bakersfield the mist turned into serious rain.  We were planning on stopping at the Bakersfield Costco for gas, but about 8 miles north the traffic stopped almost completely and the creeped along at 5 – 10 mph.  The fuel low warning light came on and we had to stop for gas.  $40.00 at Arco didn’t fill the tank, and we detoured around the congestion by taking surface streets and topped off the tank at Costco.

With the rain coming down and the mountains to the southeast hidden behind black clouds we briefly considered staying in Bakersfield for the night, but decided to see if we could make it to Mojave.  The climb out of the San Joaquin Valley wound through beautiful green hills dappled with wind turbines that were whirling like crazily spinning daisies.  Shafts of sunlight cut through the dark clouds like stage spotlights.  The rain grew with intensity.  Near Tahatchape Pass, the rain transformed into occasional wafts of snowflakes which grew heavier after the summit and actually gathered themselves into a mild ground blizzard for a mile or two.

As we dropped out of the pass and into the desert near Mojave, the rain stopped, although dark walls of cloud shrouded the east and west.  With the weather still threatening, we decided that setting up camp probably wouldn’t be very pleasant under those conditions, so we made a reservation for a motel in Barstow and continued to the southeast.  Along with darkness, came waves of heavy rain that obscured the lights of oncoming traffic.

When we stopped at the traffic light where 58 intersects 395, a semi-rig driver pulled up alongside and told us our trailer running and taillights were not working.  A brief venture into the pouring rain to  push the connector all the way back in, solved that problem.

We finally reached Barstow around 8:30, checked into our RodeWay Inn, and unhooked the trailer.  The wind was blowing, the rain was falling, and as I bent over to disconnect the safety chains, the sky gave me a cheery hello by tossing some freshly made hail down the back of my neck.  Diana and I pushed the teardrop into a parking space and hustled into our room to warm up.

After a quick trip to the supermarket across the street, we microwaved some dinner and relaxed.

So the first day of our trip is safely completed, with some spectacular scenery and most of the major weather groups.  We are officially underway and so far we have been able to handle everything the road throws at us.  Time for bed now.  Goodnight!

[Diana’s Version of Day 1 — Steve drives, pumps gas, braves wind and rain to fix lights, gets snacks when I’m hungry, checks into the motel, unhooks the trailer and gets soaked by the sleet while I sit inside wearing my lovely purple raincoat with the pleated hood.  I am either married to a compulsive choleric or a saintly knight.  I choose saintly knight!]

Teardrop between behemoths.