Terry and I did a lot of exploring along the central coast yesterday, but rather than post one super long blog, I’ll break it up into two or three shorter blogs over the next few days, since the weather is turning colder here, and we probably won’t be out playing as much.

One of our favorite places in the world is Morro Bay, California. I first discovered this charming little town back in the mid-1970s, and I said then that if it wasn’t in California, I’d move there. Even with the state’s drawbacks (flakey politics, taxes, over-population), I’ve still seriously considered it a time or two. When Miss Terry and I got married thirteen years ago, I brought her to Morro Bay for our honeymoon, and she was just as taken by the place as I was. I think Terry said it best yesterday when she said her soul is at peace here.

The town takes its name from its famous landmark, Morro Rock, a 576 foot high volcanic plug that stands at the entrance to the harbor. Morro Rock was named by Spanish adventurer Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo, when he explored the coast during the 16th Century.

Morro Bay is a working fishing village, and you can watch commercial fishing boats unloading their catches at the docks along the Embarcadero every day. The town is also a tourist destination, with dozens of shops and restaurants lining the waterfront and extending up the hill from the harbor.

In spite of the current cold snap we are experiencing, overall Morro Bay has mild weather all year long. Terry and I commented yesterday that we had better weather during our honeymoon, which was in January, than during this late June visit.

Besides shopping and dining, you can book a charter fishing trip, take a whale watching expedition, a boat tour of the harbor, or rent a kayak and explore on your own.

Terry and I wandered up and down the waterfront, poking our heads into the shops, admiring some of the crafts on sale, and watching harbor seals swimming along and bobbing their heads out of the water.

Now, while Morro Bay has not changed much over time, I do have to say that I noticed one major difference. I used to love to go to Crills II Bakery for their cinnamon rolls, and sitting at one of the outdoor tables along the waterfront, eating one and watching harbor life go by, was always a treat. But, after all these years of eating the wonderful cinnamon rolls that Miss Terry makes, Crills just didn’t hold up yesterday. That lady has spoiled me in more than a few ways!

It was a weird day yesterday – for much of the day a heavy cloud cover obscured parts of Morro Rock, then it would suddenly clear up for a while to give us a nice view, and then just as quickly the shroud would drop back down.

After a while, it became a little too cold to be comfortable on the waterfront. We visited a few RV parks in Morro Bay, dropping off bundles of sample copies of the Gypsy Journal, and then we drove up the coast to check out some other places.

We returned to Morro Bay for dinner at The Galley, an upscale seafood restaurant with a wall of large windows overlooking the bay and Morro Rock. Terry had the sautéed scallops, while I chose the fried prawns. Both were good, but the place is out of our price range for frequent visits, and we’ve had better meals for less money.

When we got back to the Elks lodge campground in Oceano, we discovered that a small Class C had arrived and was parked on the other side of us from the RV that came in the day before. Our new neighbors have a couple of young boys with them, and at 10:30 p.m. they were still outside making a lot of noise. I don’t think we’ve ever had any neighbors with kids at an Elks lodge before. We don’t mind kids; heck, we used to be kids ourselves once. But now we’ve become grouchy old farts, and we’re not thrilled with people who allow their kids or pets to disturb others. 

Thought For The Day – By the time a man is wise enough to watch his step, he’s too old to go anywhere.

Click Here To Register For Our Eastern Gypsy Gathering Rally!

There is an interesting thread on the RV.Net forum discussing a Forbes magazine article on America’s Scariest Highways. Since we are considering taking US Highway 50 across Nevada in a few weeks, I found it interesting that this route, known as “The Loneliest Road in America,” was among those listed.

The article says US 50 gets its “scary” designation because it crosses miles of open desert, where you may not see another vehicle for 30 minutes or more. Okay, so how does that make it scary? I love lightly traveled roads, don’t you?

We’ve driven many of the highways listed, and while some were not much fun (Interstate 70 through Colorado), others left me wondering why the authors of the article find them problematic.

For example, US 1 though the Florida Keys was listed. Except for the Seven Mile Bridge, which I drove over several times and didn’t find to be a problem, most of the drive is delightful. Slow, if there is a lot of traffic maybe, but far from scary.

I’ve been on some scary stretches of road in my time, though I think one man’s terror ride may well be a piece of cake for someone else. Many years ago we took the advice of some locals (never a good idea) and took a “short cut” on our way to an Escapade rally in Lancaster, California that took us across State Route 138 from Cajon Junction to Palmdale. The road was a narrow two lane route that climbed and wound around a mountain side, with a steep drop off on one side and solid rock cliff on the other. Now throw in crazed Friday night drivers headed out to party, coming the another way, crossing over the  centerline as they sped around the curves. By the time we got to the Elks lodge in Palmdale, I was a bundle of screaming, frayed nerves.

US Highway 60 through Arizona’s Salt River Canyon used to intimidate me with its hairpin turns and steep drop offs, but I have driven it so many times over the years that I don’t even notice it any more.

Some of my least favorite roads include the above mentioned State Route 138 in California, and Interstate 70 in Colorado as it heads downhill into Denver, along with Interstate 75 through Atlanta, and any highway anywhere around Los Angeles or Houston. 

My fear of bridges has gotten a lot better, but it’s still a very real issue for me. A lifetime ago, I lived on the Washington coast and owned newspapers in Long Beach, Washington and Astoria, Oregon. I have crossed the Astoria Bridge over the Columbia River in everything from cars and pickup trucks to motorcycles and vans, but the first time I approached that bridge in a motorhome, I took one look and drove 75 miles upriver to cross on a lower bridge, and then drove 75 miles back to the coast!

I have driven Interstate 75 across the Mackinac Bridge in northern Michigan, and it scares the hell out of me every time. The last few times, Miss Terry drove over the bridge, but I was still just as scared.

One (actually two) bridge crossings that I’ll never do again are the two narrow, high bridges on US Highway 60 that cross the Mississippi, and then the Ohio River, within just a 1/2 mile or so near Cairo, Illinois. Miss Terry did that driving, but I was still a basket case by the time we got to the other side.

Don’t even mention me traveling over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge in Virginia. It’s just not going to happen!

What about you? What are some of the highways you find scary, and why? Come on, fess up. I can’t be the only neurotic wimp out there!

Thought For The Day – Don’t simply seek interesting surroundings, but be continually interested in whatever surrounds you.

Click Here To Register For Our Eastern Gypsy Gathering Rally!

We can tell it’s a holiday weekend, because the traffic is terrible in this little mountain community as people escape the heat of the desert and come up here to cool off. Up until now, besides the campground host, we have usually been sharing the Elks campground with only  one or two other RVs.

But beginning yesterday, we have seen one RV after another pulling into the campground. We have a Class C Grayhawk parked two sites over from us, a beautiful new Newmar diesel pusher is behind us, another motorhome and a big fifth wheel are a few sites down on the other side, and there are a few others scattered around.

Compared to commercial RV parks, we still have lots of room and privacy, but it has been interesting to see so many new arrivals. I don’t know how many are here for extended stays, and how many are just here for the holiday weekend, but since they all seem to be retired, I don’t think they have to be anywhere in a hurry.

I seem to find a way to get into mischief everywhere I go. Case in point, Friday I went up to the Elks lodge to extend our stay. As with every other lodge we have been to, registration is done at the bar, and there was an older lady there registering for a campsite at the same time. I have never met a stranger, so while they were completing our paperwork, I said hello and asked where she was coming in from. She said Tucson, and I mentioned that it must be getting pretty hot down there by now. She must have thought I was trying to pick her up, despite the 15 or 20 year age difference between us, because she said “Look, I’m married, okay?”

Ouch! And here I thought I had my very own cougar! When I got back to our Winnebago and told Terry and my daughter about the incident, they both had a good laugh at my expense.

Hoping to avoid all of the holiday traffic, yesterday we hung around the motorhome all day. I dumped our black tank, and spent most of the day doing genealogical research online. I was surprised to learn about a daredevil in my family tree. On the Genealogy Bank website, I discovered an 1889 newspaper article reporting that my grandfather, Joseph Russell, then a 16 year old boy, had jumped 110 feet into the Ohio River from a railroad bridge in Cincinnati, on a bet. The story said he was uninjured, and I had to laugh as I remembered my mom saying things like “If so and so jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?” If I had known this back then, I could have shot back “Why not, Grandpa did!” On second thought, maybe not. My mom was little, but she was feisty. She may have thrown me off a bridge for smarting off to her!

While I was goofing off, Miss Terry was hard at work, hanging this Levolor blind in the window over her workstation. The three windows in the front of the motorhome are much larger than the ones she already did in the bedroom and bathroom, and the first one was a learning experience. Hanging the blinds is not as easy as the folks at Lowes would have you believe.

But Terry loves a challenge, and she’s so darned stubborn that she never gives up. So even though she had to do some physical contortions to get to everything, and she had to back up and attack the problem from a different angle a time or two, the result came out great, don’t you think?

We are really pleased with the new look they give our Winnebago. Terry has two more windows to go, and she said the lessons she learned on this one will make those a little easier. 

I may not have accomplished much yesterday, but Bad Nick was working just as hard as Terry, pounding out a new Bad Nick Blog titled It Wasn’t About Slavery. Check it out and leave a comment.

Thought For The Day – Rehab is for quitters!

Click Here To Register For Our Eastern Gypsy Gathering Rally!

As I reported in a previous blog entry Caught In A Dust Storm, on Monday of last week we drove from Williams, Arizona to Juniper Ridge RV Resort  in Show Low, Arizona. On Interstate 40, between Meteor Crater and Winslow, we ran into the worst dust storm I had ever been in. Soon after we came through, the Highway Patrol closed the highway for several hours.

Yesterday, one week to the day later, another dust storm closed the same section of highway for several hours. Welcome to spring in northern Arizona. Fortunately for us, this time around we were safely nestled into Tim and Sue Daughtery’s site here at Juniper Ridge. The wind rocked our motorhome all day long, but since we stayed home and waded through a mound of paperwork, we just ignored it.

Driving a high profile vehicle in strong winds is not only nerve wracking, it can be downright dangerous. In my days running small town newspapers in this area, I covered quite a few stories of big motorhomes, and even eighteen wheelers, that were blown off the highway and ended up on their sides or upside down at the bottom of a ravine. 

When I reported in Saturday’s blog that we had opened registration for our Eastern Gypsy Gathering Rally, we had 80 50 amp full hookup RV sites available at Elkhart Campground. As of last night, we have 50 left. We also have received reservations for several of the 30 amp full hookup, and the 30 amp water and electric sites. We now have a total of 45 registrations in.  That’s not bad for three days!

Membership in the Elks and Moose organizations opens up many overnight parking opportunities for RVers. In our travels, we have stayed at Elks and Moose lodges all over the country. Some just have a parking lot where you can dry camp overnight, while others have full hookup RV parks, with very reasonable rates. But membership in both organizations is about much more than just having a place to park overnight. Both do a tremendous amount of good work in their communities and on a national basis, especially for children and veterans.

I belong to the Gila Bend, Arizona Elks Lodge, and the Elkhart, Indiana Moose Lodge. I have sponsored quite a few new members for the Elkhart Moose Lodge,and if you would like to join, I’ll be happy to sponsor you while we’re at the rally. It’s a quick and easy process, and costs less than $100 to join, including your first year’s dues. If you are interested in joining at the rally, send me an e-mail at editor@gypsyjournal.net and I’ll be sure to have enrollment forms available for you.

Our RV travels have taken us to a lot of small town festivals all around the country, but one we missed was the Texas Sandfest, which was held in Port Aransas, Texas this past weekend. As longtime readers know, Terry and I love the Texas Gulf Coast, from Rockport to Port Aransas, and we’re sorry we missed this event.

But our friends Ron and Brenda Speidel were there, and they sent us several photos they took of some of the creations. Here are a few of my favorites. Isn’t it amazing what they can do with sand?

Now that I have conquered the paperwork that was covering my desk, it’s time to start putting together the next issue of the Gypsy Journal. Maybe, by the time I get it finished in a few days, the wind will have blown out of the area. But I’m not holding my breath.

Thought For The Day – Quarrels end, but words, once spoken, never die.

Click Here To Register For Our Eastern Gypsy Gathering Rally! 

We were in no hurry yesterday, and that was a good thing. It was cold in Gila Bend overnight, and I was too lazy to get up and turn on the furnace, so instead I shivered half the night. Finally, about 7 a.m., I got up for a bathroom trip, and when I came back to bed I snuggled up to Miss Terry and dropped into a deep sleep. So deep that finally somewhere around 10:40 a.m. Terry woke me up and asked if I ever planned to get out of bed. There were several RVs at the Elks lodge overnight, but by the time we opened the curtain over our windshield, there was only one travel trailer parked back at the far edge of the lot, and I think he’s staying there long term.

We puttered around for an hour or so, checking e-mail and returning a couple of phone calls, and finally got on the road about noon. But we only had about 120 miles to go, so there was no pressure.

It was a beautiful day, and the storm from the day before had blown itself out. We cruised west on Interstate 8, stopping only long enough to pull into a rest area for a quick walk around the motorhome and van, making sure everything was still in one piece. It’s always a good idea to stop every hundred miles or so do a walk around and stretch your legs. It gives you an opportunity to check your tires, be sure your tow bar and safety cables are still secure, and look for anything that might need attention. We had friends who once drove 400 miles nonstop, and when they arrived at their destination, they discovered that the side window of their SUV had been shattered. They had no idea when or how that had happened, and it remains a mystery today.

I like comparing how our Winnebago motorhome compares to our MCI bus conversion on steep grades. There is a small mountain range just east of Yuma on Interstate 8, and in the past, if I had a good running start at it, we’d top out in the bus at about 15 to 18 miles per hour. We had stopped at the rest area just before the uphill climb began, so there was no running start, and I had to slow down for a big truck, but in the Winnebago, we still hit the top at about 50 miles per hour. What a difference! However, I still much prefer the Jake brake in the old bus to the exhaust brake on the Winnebago. I just felt more secure with it on steep downgrades.  

After a stop for fuel at the Flying J on the east side of town, we arrived at the fairgrounds and stopped to check in at the office. They have several other events going on between now and our rally, so we found a quiet spot away from the main area, parked next to the stables. We have 20 amp electric and water, which is plenty to sustain us indefinitely.

Once we were settled in, we called our friends Mike and Elaine Loscher and arranged to meet them for dinner at the Golden Corral. Mike and Elaine are sweet people, and very dedicated supporters of our efforts. They have been to every one of our rallies, always volunteering to help. We could never afford to pay them for all that they do, from helping with parking and registration, and a hundred other chores that come up. We feel very honored to have such wonderful friends. 

I noticed in Gila Bend, and again here in Yuma, that our Verizon air card is working much faster than it was in the Apache Junction/Mesa area. Some snowbirds had told me that they were experiencing slow service here in Yuma too, but so far, so good. We’ll be busy getting all of the last minute rally chores done in the next few days. The clock is ticking down!

Thought For The Day – Tourists see the world, travelers experience it.

Register Now For Our Arizona Gypsy Gathering Rally