'I don't camp' II

Kathy’s “Hylton” is a 26 foot Fleetwood motorhome built in 1991 and it was owned by a couple who had not used it for five years before we bought it “dirt cheap”.

The guy who sold it was parking it on the street and had to move it every 72 hours so he wouldn’t get a ticket. He was ready to get rid of it. It needed a lot of TLC but otherwise seemed in good shape and had only 60,000 miles.

After putting new tires on her and having it checked out by our mechanic we loaded her up and headed north on 99 cutting over to 580 at Modesto.

The road is one well traveled by us, however driving a big rig which has as much sail area as our boat made a lot of difference. We drove slowly because everythng is new to us, the size, the weight, the height and the 26 feet of length.

With a motorhome this size, one really doesn’t steer down the road, one points in the geenral direction and compensates now and then.

The winds picked up as we hit 580 and we were doing a lot of compensating. It actually felt like we were tacking our sailboat down a narrow channel, back and forth as the wind pushed us from the center line to the edge of the road.

“Gusty winds, trailers and campers,” the sign read and we slowed down from 55 to 45 miles an hour. Just urging the Hylton up the Altamont Pass took all the energy we could muster however the old 350 Ford engine had plenty of heart and we made the trip without overheating.

Our first night was spent in the parking lot of the Alameda Marina where we knew we would be safe and we could also check on our sailboat.

As it turned out, none of the gas appliances on the Hylton worked and we ended up having dinner and sleeping on the Day Dreamer, our sailboat.

The next morning we were up early looking for a “Mighty Max” one burner propane stove, the kind we had used on boats and our travel trailer for years.  With a cooler full of ice and beer we were on our way to Ft. Bragg for our second night.

Our son David had lost his job as part of the state’s budget cut. The California State Tree Nursery had been shut down and he was transferred to Ft. Bragg to help take care of the Coastal Redwoods.

We camped by the Ft. Bragg harbor and woke up the next morning to watch as a bunch of deer grazed on the lawn in front of our window.

Kayaking is big in this part of the country and groups would ride the Skunk Train inland 22 miles, disembark and paddle back down the river to Ft. Bragg.

Our road headed north out of Ft. Bragg following the coast up to Crescent City where the Klamath River dumped into the ocean.  The road wrapped the Hylton around itself making hair pin curves along Highway 1.

Keeping one’s eye on the road was difficult as one ocean landscape surpassed the next. Lucky we we’re in a hurry. We frequently pulled off the side of the road to allow faster drivers to go on by.

It was while camping next to the Klamath River that someone yelled “Look at the whales” and to our surprise there were two small whales frolicking in the river blowing up spray ten feet before diving.

We left the coast and headed for the middle of the Avenue of Giants, the redwoods which climbed 300 feet high and were hundreds of years old. It gave us the feeling of being so small and insignificant in the rhelm of things.

....to be continued.