are on their annual pursuit of some spectacular wines. One yearns for a robust Cabernet; another for a piquant Chardonnay but we will not snub an airy Merlot for a fine dark Pinot Noir nor will we disregard an airy Sauvignon Blanc, a Pinot Gris or Auxerrois for a more crisp, distinctive, 
aromatic & spicy Gerwurtztraminer or a fruity Riesling. Please don’t forget that ‘The Frugal Rambler’ is in this quartet of connoisseurs and so the real quest is for high quality at an affordable price.
It is in my partner’s heritage to appreciate a fine wine – hence the nomenclature ‘Boivin’, the root being ‘boire – to drink’ and ‘vin – everyone knows what that means’. So we strive to live up to the historical designation of the name.
B&B and their two pooches, Brindle and Link accompanied us in a 21-foot Class C motorhome for two weeks. Sadly, one of the B’s still works (to his chagrin), so their days are limited unlike we retirees with a surplus of time.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Departure morning, we figured we’d have an easy morning waiting while B&B picked up their RV, took it back home and packed it and returned to our place ready to go. However, we discovered that Maggie had a flat tire on one of the rear duels and this deflation resulted in a mad run-around to RV parts shops looking for a replacement valve extension. When we finally found them, we discovered they only came in sets of four at a cost of $130 – GULP! Eventually around 1pm, all was fixed and we were on our way south.
Rain started to spatter our windshield as we drove out of town and we fervently hoped it wasn’t a precursor of things to come. We expected a long line-up at the border but I guess our delayed start helped dissipate the hordes of southerly-bound shoppers because there was only a ten-minute wait. US border guards are terrifically serious these days and it’s useless trying to get a smile out of them.
“What food do you have?” he enquired solemnly.
“Well, we don’t have beef….” I replied smilingly
“I didn’t ask what you didn’t have,” he barked
Oops!
“Sorry” I said and humbly proceeded to list the contents of our refrigerator. Apparently, it satisfied him because he waved us through.
Tulalip Casino in Marysville, Washington just 95 miles from home was our destination and we all four ventured out shopping to bolster our larders for the next two weeks. Then, martinis, appys and dinner with a robust Cabernet and we all fell into bed exhausted; after all, we are an aging quartet.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Sunshine - Wow! But the weather was changeable as we coasted down the highway – clouds, rain, wind – but it eventually returned to sunshine. It was a welcome relief to ultimately depart the I5 corridor and veer west towards the Oregon Coast. We’d had enough of the choking diesel fumes from the multitude of commercial trucks. The winding country road through northern Oregon was sublime in comparison, the sun peeping through the massive branches of the orange and yellow leaved maples that lined the road. It wasn’t long before we reached our home for the night, Spirit Mountain Casino in Grande Ronde.
It was time for Caesar to meet Brindle and Link. We hoped his psyche wasn’t scarred by their prior encounter when we had to extricate his little head, which was halfway down Brindle’s throat. This had earned him the nickname of ‘Caesar Salad’. Caesar and Brindle are now senior citizens and they postured for a while - sniff, turn, sniff, wag tails and success, they’re finally friends – well, perhaps not bosom buddies as Caesar is aloof; he’s been hopelessly spoiled and is convinced that he’s not really a dog at all.
It was sunny and warm enough to bring out our lounge chairs and imbibe our cocktails in the open air. Our resident chef (certainly not me – one of the B’s) whipped up a superb dinner very simply and they all ventured over to the casino for a night of poker. I elected to stay behind; it’s well known by now that I’m not a gambler.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
The first sight of the Pacific Ocean with its massive foamy green and white breakers always takes our breath away and we couldn’t wait to find a
spot to pull in and get the dogs down onto the sand. The little beasts roared down to the beach, gleefully swirling and jumping through the receding waters, kicking up sand with their gyrations – well, not Caesar – he sedately ambled down and enjoyed sniffing his way through the aromatic driftwood. Gulls swooped and soared, waves roared and drummed the shore, the wind captured a light airy veil of water and blew it in sheets across the sand. Pooches all tired out, we hit the road again.We never tire of the scenic drive along
the coast and as we drove discussed how we’d adapt to life in one of the coastal towns. Very well, we agreed. However, life on the road is preferable as we can stay as long or as short as we like anywhere we choose.Sea Perch, our favourite oceanfront spot has been ruined. They’ve paved paradise and put in a cement slab of an RV Park where the sites will be individually sold and the buyers will deposit their massive mobile homes on our special place. We stopped to visit it while it’s in its final stages of completion and mourned our loss.
Another town, another casino. Tonight, it’s The Mill in North Bend/Coos Bay not the most picturesque location but sufficient for a night’s stop. We’re starting to look forward to stopping for a few days in one place – which we will when we get to Napa. Cocktails and another gourmet dinner – how fat will we all be when this trip is over? We shuttled over to the casino because the weather was blustery and wet. B&B stayed to deposit some money in the machines. Maybe ‘deposit’ isn’t the right word – if one deposits, the funds are retrievable later; ‘feed’ the machines is more apt in this context. Fernie, not pleased with the poker there strolled back to Maggie with me.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
I was up at 3am – couldn’t sleep and don’t know why – went back to bed at 4:30 and was woken a half-hour later by the wind. Terrific gusts were battering poor Maggie and they grew steadily in strength to the point that we could hear the awnings over the slides flapping and snapping so about 5:30 we decided to get up and put in the slides. We then fell into a beautiful deep and cosy slumber with Caesar tucked in the middle under the duvet and slept until after 8. The wind had abated only slightly but we headed off around 9 with the idea of proceeding more slowly than usual to counteract the keen wind. A sign in Port Orford perplexed us “High winds for the next 27 miles when flashing” and it was flashing. We had just completed 52 miles with extremely strong winds so was it going to be much worse hugging the high open cliff? The angry ocean was a murky grey & green & frothy white patchwork that clobbered the rocky bluffs below us as we ventured along cautiously but it got no worse thank goodness.
All four of us were getting a bit tired of this driving on every day with no time to explore the coastal towns, beaches and coves but B&B only have fourteen days in total. We’re looking forward to perching in Napa Valley in one spot, hopefully in warmer weather.
Fernie and I had discovered the quaint village of Trinidad, California and the tiny casino Cher-Ae Heights who welcomed us to stay on a prior trip. We eased along the narrow curving cliffside road through a green tunnel of massive mossy oak and maple trees and then up a steep drive to the isolated casino, up on a bluff. Once we got settled, we ventured down the winding road into town and down to the docks where we had dinner in a dockside café. The oysters were succulent but B&B who each ordered a seafood platter were disappointed. The skies opened up later and it rained so hard that a river of water gushed across the parking lot under our motorhomes. We are so tired of this weather.
Friday, October 19, 2007
It was still raining as we pulled out of Trinidad and headed down the coast through Eureka but we held out hope that it would ease off when we headed inland through the giant redwoods to the wine country. It was not to be and I was getting particularly grumpy as we arrived at the north end of Napa Valley and it was still socked in with a thick mist. I was tired of being cold and damp.
Between Calistoga and Ste Helena lies Bothe-Napa State Park and we pulled in to stay in their campground but there were no sites available. The young blonde ranger was disinterested in our plight – there is absolutely no boondocking in Napa and RV parks are almost non-existent. As we drove through the loop road to exit the park, drooping ripe walnuts and figs pummelled Maggie’s roof and snagged on the satellite dish…so we had to crawl tentatively along. Why wouldn’t they keep the overhead trees trimmed? My mood was more than cranky as we crawled south through Ste Helena in a massive traffic jam trying to keep B&B’s motorhome in sight. I had addresses for two RV parks in Napa gleaned from online searches – one sort of scuzzy one, Skyline Park which we’d stayed at before and another called Napa Valley Resort – that sounded better; maybe it’d be a bit more upscale. However, we arrived at the address 500 Lincoln Avenue and it did not exist. I was not the only grump by this time after a long day of driving and nowhere to stay. So we went back to Skyline and as we drove in noticed a sign in the window “No vacancy”. Fernie was vile by this time and voiced it.
“Where’s I5 and a Walmart or a casino?” he was ready to wheel around outa' there. But I stuck my head out our window and the friendly woman in charge, Luanne (AKA Ranger Mom) said “Perhaps I can find a place for you just for one night”. We were desperately tired and jumped at the offer. B and I went inside her office and made friendly chatter expressing our disappointment because we’d wanted to stay for several days and miraculously, Luanne (after checking her watch and looking through the book) said
“I think I’ve got a couple of spots for you – they won’t be right beside each other but there’s just one unit between them.”
We oozed gratitude and didn’t question how she’d managed the feat – guessing that some reservations hadn’t shown up in time. She handed us gate and shower keys and said she normally required a $10 deposit.
“But if you ‘pinky-swear’ you’ll bring them back, I won’t charge you.”
I stuck out my little finger and we locked ‘pinkies’.
“The guys will never do it – just the women,” she said with a grin.
Yippee! We had a place to stay – never mind that it was the ‘scuzzy’ one.
Too tired for dinner we jumped into our pyjamas and settled in for the night finding a movie on TV to entertain us ‘Borat’. Somehow, with our moods, it was just what we needed to relax.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
We woke to sunshine – finally – and apparently the forecast is for good weather for the next week so life is good once again.
Beringer’s winery is headquartered in a fine old Victorian heritage building right in the centre of Ste. Helena. The emerald green-carpeted grounds are full of ancient trees – oaks, chestnuts, walnuts….. – and they frame the old Beringer house beautifully. 
We started our wine explorations there and after a tasting of wines on the main floor took a tour of their cellars and the tiny demonstration vineyard, finishing in ‘old man Beringer’s’ bedroom for another tasting of several signature wines. A group of Chinese San Franciscans made up the bulk of our group. Little ladies with huge label purses, their men attired in swanky sportswear chattered and giggled as we went. One of them chirped “We’re all a bit tipsy” and the rest of the group burst into a tinkling ripple of laughter. They were having a wonderful time. I’d never heard of a salt pig before but B grabbed one with glee on our visit to the Culinary Institute. It looks like a piece of bent pipe but it’s white ceramic and it enables the cook to take a pinch or a spoonful of salt with ease. The other B and Fernie shuffled around impatiently outside the kitchen shop while we browsed.
B&B had been salivating over having lunch at a Barbecue restaurant and they’d noticed one in Calistoga when we passed yesterday – it didn’t cater to non-carnivores so it wasn’t my favourite place but they loved it. Huge slabs of beef and pork smoked on gigantic barbecues. They sawed off huge chunks and thrust them in between a huge hunk of bread; paired with a pile of ‘pork’n beans’, it was a meal fit for the biggest truck-driver.
We continued after lunch with further tastings – at Sutter Home whose wine is quaffable (to quote B) and extremely reasonable. We each came out of there with several bottles under our arm. Then across the road to V.Satuii for more tastings and cheese samples too. I bought some beautiful goat cheese and B couldn’t resist the pate – for appys later. Gotta get some exercise to work of all these calories.
There was a little old forest green trailer parked beside us at Skyline and we first met Lawrence when he disconnected our electricity accidentally. Fernie assisted him in organizing his hookups and later we met him again with Penny, his wife sipping samples at Sutter Home. They’re from Ocean Park, just outside Vancouver and we swapped tales of foreign travel when they joined us as we lazed in our lounge chairs on the grassy hillside above our RV’s.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
We decided to stay put in our Napa Park for the entire week and do day trips rather than repositioning ourselves in the Sonoma area as we’d originally planned. Moving would waste a day and there was no need as we found ourselves so central.
We did spend a long day touring the Sonoma Valley –
west of Napa stopping first in the town of Sonoma where we strolled around the town square stopping after at a patio coffee bar. My ire did rise when my tea was overlooked – the men had almost finished their coffees and I still didn’t have my tea. How hard is it to boil water? I pushed up to the front of the line again voicing my discontent – politely at first, but when I was answered by “We have to do the espressos first”, I blew my top. They had my tea ready in two minutes.Onward through Santa Rosa, north to
Healdsburg and a visit to the Rodney Strong winery next. The tasting host there recommended a restaurant in Healdsburg when Fernie asked if there was a Mexican one in the area. There’s always a Mexican one. She also told us that if we liked burritos to order the one starting with an ‘M’. The Guadalajara was a tiny ‘order-at-the-counter’ sort of place – seemingly traditionally Mexican and we all ordered the burritos starting with ‘M’ coupled with Pacifico beer. They were delicioso! I’m beginning to think that this holiday is all about wine and food ;-)
Next stop was the town of Guerneville in the Russian River area, a gay haven and a counter culture sort of place. B&B had stayed there many years ago and it was fun for them to wander around there again and interesting for us with the alternate lifestyle atmosphere. There was a big Safeway there in the middle of town, which seemed contrary to the community. I would have expected a natural foods market and a gourmet style supermarket instead.I was yawning uncontrollably on the way home – the long day and the sunshine.
Monday, October 22, 2007
We all decided an easy day was in order and we toured and tasted at more of the Napa Valley wineries and wandered around the town of Ste Helena window-shopping. We got home early and set our lounge chairs and picnic table for dinner under the shade of the large spreading walnut trees – Tuscan style (or so we convinced ourselves). Our neighbours from the little green trailer were late returning from San Francisco, and we were worried about their little white dog who’d been inside since early morning. We talked about it and decided to try the door of the trailer that amazingly was unlocked. The little dog went absolutely mad…..barking and freaking out and it ran out of the trailer terrified of Fernie. We felt panicked that they would come home and their dog would be gone and eaten by the local cougar family but finally, I coaxed the little ball of fur to come to me and it curled up in my arms shaking like a leaf. We took her into Maggie and it took some time for her to calm down. Finally, Fernie was able to put Caesar’s collar and leash on it and take her out for a toilet walk and put her back into her own trailer where she was more secure. When her owners returned an hour or so later, Fernie went over to tell them what we’d done…in case someone had seen us open their trailer. Thankfully they were very grateful “That’s why we leave the door unlocked – if anything happens someone can rescue our little dog. We’re old hippies, you know!”
Tuesday, October 22, 2007
We found out that there’s a ferry from Vallejo at the north end of San Pablo Bay through San Francisco Bay docking at the foot of Market Street in San Francisco. That was so much more preferable than driving into town and sitting in the rush-hour traffic and inhaling the choking fumes. A half hour drive to the ferry terminal; a pleasant hour-long cruise through the bay past Alcatraz, and the Bay Bridge and we were docked.
We walked from the Ferry Terminal up
Market to the Castro which is SF’s gay district, through what we found was ‘the Tenderloin’ – what I’d call ‘Skid Row’. It was about a three mile walk altogether and even though we kept to the shady side, we were hot and thirsty when we arrived in Castro. B&B took us into one of their favourite hangouts – a bar at the corner of Market and Castro Streets where we sat comfortably sipping on Stella Artois’ soaking up the ‘ambience’.
We spent a relaxing hour for lunch at a patio garden restaurant under shady palm fronds where a little Mexican man/boy with a high-pitched voice served us.
“My partner and I just bought it three weeks ago,” he told us proudly. He reminded me of the houseboy in ‘La Cage’. Refreshed and sated, we headed out again to explore.
“Hey girl, you got your camera out,” said a passing local to me
“you should take a picture of that guy over there – he’s running for mayor”“Which one?” I asked “the one with the shaved head?”
“No” and he guffawed “there to the left, on the corner – see – the naked guy” and there the mayoral candidate stood in his birthday suit passing out flyers and talking the talk.
It was a hot day but I wondered what he did to get attention when it was colder.
A friendly guy at the bus stop explained the bus/tram system to us.
“If you’re a senior it’s even better – and I’m a senior” and he further elucidated on the choices and bargains. A senior can buy a monthly pass for $10 and use it for all transit in metro SF including the cable car.
“The cable car alone costs $5 each way” he said with delight..
We were able to take the tram back to Fisherman’s Wharf for 50 cents each instead of the usual $1.50. Such glee!
An enormous
explosion of a sneeze emanated from a woman sitting across from us on the bus. I made the mistake of saying “Geshundheit!”. That was her opening to talk spouting tales of her missionary travels and spewing hatred of the Republican government and how awful George Bush is and how the democratic system doesn’t work in the USA. She was an aging woman with her long grey hair pulled back into a bushy ponytail, big baggy blue jeans across her wide hips and an old sweatshirt tied around her waist. I sensed that she wasn’t totally sane so I just nodded my head and listened to her sermon. We strolled from Fisherman’s Wharf back to the terminal for the 4:30 ferry and we were home by 6:05pm.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Our days have started to form a pattern. We start with coffee and tea outside at our table under the trees around about 8:30am, then venture off to explore, stop at a coffee bar for refreshments, have lunch along the way, come back in the late afternoon for cocktails, ease into dinner prepared by our Chef B and head off to bed fairly early.
Today we visited the Victorian town of Petaluma whose claim to fame is that it survived the 1906 earthquake and then drove over to the coast to the little village of Bodega Bay, famous for being the location used for filming
Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds”. Actually, this is a fact I have to check. There’s a beautiful ocean vista across the hill from Bodega Bay – crashing surf on jagged rocks, sandy cove; it looked like many a movie could have been made there. I thought of the beach scene in “From Here to Eternity”. An artist with easel set up and a palette of oil paints attempted to create his perception of the beautiful vista from his perch above the cliff.“May I take a picture of you from a distance” I asked.
“Only one” he growled back.
So I proceeded to sneak three.
We had lunch at Petaluma
on our way back – I got cranky with the supercilious waiter when he said he wouldn’t give us separate bills. I’ve got to soften my angry side – it’s not good for me. B&B insisted that if I’d had some wine with lunch, I’d be much more docile. We couldn’t lower his tip because gratuities were added onto the bill automatically. So, I guess he won – the customer is not always right.
We arrived back early enough for me to go out and search for Wifi which I found only a half block down the street in front of the School Board offices. Back for martinis and then dinner by candlelight on our red chequered picnic table under the stars – oysters and blackened whitefish with a lovely Riesling. Life is good!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
This is the last day in the wine country after a week of utterly delightful exploring and imbibing. Just as well because my jeans are getting tight from our gluttonous behaviour.
I laid off even mentioning Geocaching for the prior
ten days knowing it would interfere with our touring and sightseeing with B&B. I’m the only GC addict in the group – the others can take it or leave it and would most likely leave it. However, I had a ‘geocoin’ that I wanted to launch on its journey of touring the wine districts of North America and the world if possible and I wanted to start it in the Napa Valley. Out of dozens of caches in the area, only one was large enough so that was our first duty of the day. It’s a land filled with micro caches. It took us all on a pleasant walk under a tunnel of trees along the murky stagnant Napa River. Next I dragged them off on a few virtual caches, which are bound to entertain the grumpiest curmudgeon. A virtual has no hidden treasure; it’s purely an interesting location where we must glean information to submit. All three of my curmudgeonly partners enjoyed it – Wow! Especially the cemetery where we hunted down a half a dozen historical figures. 
We strolled around old town Napa on another quest and stopped for coffee, tea and biscotti = the chocolate orange kind; oh, the calories. After a few GeoCaching hours, we were ready for a tasting and as we’d been searching for some good pinot noirs, we were most pleased to find a formal Pinot Noir tasting at the French Chateau styled Carneros Winery south of Napa. We sat on a delightful patio overlooking the Versailles styled gardens at wrought iron umbrella shaded tables and our trio of tastings were brought to us. It would have been nice if our server had been a bit more enthusiastic about his description but with eyes glazed he spoke by rote as if he’d said it all a million times before; I’m sure he had but he should’ve put some animation in his narrative. I only really liked one of the pinot noirs and of course it was the one that was $65 a bottle. I’ll guess I’ll stick to my $4.97 schlock – after all we’re on a fixed income now.Before heading back for Fernie to perform his regular maintenance jobs on Maggie, we stopped for lunch at Boonfly for sumptuous vegetarian flatbreads that were (as the large woman who recommended the cafe said) “Primo”. Later in the day there was a weather change; smoke from the Southern California fires started to blow in and it brought along a chill in the air. However, it was Survivor night and we all four hunkered down to cheer on our favourites. I, of course, support the miraculous body of James – he’s what I call ‘eye-candy’ to the annoyance of my three compatriots.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Our stay in Napa has run its course and its time to head back north again. We didn’t drive too far – just 137 miles to the Rolling Hills Casino in Corning, the olive capital of California. A high but warm wind persisted for the afternoon, but we were parked beside a vast open range area and pulled our chairs out in the sunshine and I know that at least two of us fell fast asleep. The ‘Olive Pit’ was advertised on billboards all along I5 ‘Olives, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, pickled garlic – come in for our free tastings’. With such tantalizing ads, do you think we’d resist? B&B toddled out with arms full of all sorts of jars and bottles.
Our last day together…..we had a final martini and went out for dinner at a local Mexican restaurant where I splurged on a giant margarita. My last fattening meal as tomorrow, it’ll be back to green salads. The restaurant was an authentic replication of a Mexican café with its gaudy décor and the clientele were mostly Mexican too – it was a great ‘last supper’.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
We crawled out of bed late – B&B had already left. We felt an emptiness as we drove along the highway without our walkie-talkie umbilical cord crackling in the background. But the sun was shining and we looked forward to meeting up with two more friends (A&L) in a campground near their home in Rogue River, Oregon.
ADDENDUM
We pulled into the Valley of the Rogue State Park fairly
early and what a beautiful campground – wide expanses of manicured emerald lawns; varied autumn coloured deciduous trees interspersed with tall evergreens but plenty of clearings to let the sun shine through; huge sites with full 
hookups; wifi at a low charge, only $7.95 for a week (and we’ll be here for four days) so I was able to publish my blog and organize some geocaching in the area; the Rogue River only steps away – I could go on and on waxing enthusiastically about this place. The temperature was in the mid 70’s F and other than a quick spin into Grants Pass to order tires from Les Schwab, we spent the afternoon lounging around in the sunshine with our books.
It was nice having a day to ourselves; we hardly spoke to each other;
but we were happy the next day when our friends L&A arrived around about noon with their 34 foot Aerbus motorhome and their two little Yorkies. We met L&A originally in a coffee shop in Bisbee, Arizona; it seems like so long ago but it was only in March of this year. Subsequently, we made a purposeful meet 
for a couple of days in Farmington, New Mexico when we discovered we would be traveling a similar route through the state and since then, we’ve kept in touch by email. It’s strange how you can sometimes meet people that you feel you’ve been friends with for years.The weather kept cooperating and the glorious sunshine
set a sparkling blaze to the colours of the trees. As soon as L&A finished setting up, we cracked a bottle of Napa chardonnay and talked for hours until we figured a little exercise was needed. I grabbed my GPS and we took them on a geocaching
familiarization ramble around the Valley of the Rogue Park along the meandering Rogue River. They were the most enthusiastic newbies we’ve ever taken out on an introductory tour. When ‘A’ uncovered one after bravely sticking her bare hand into a hole, her excited shriek echoed throughout the park. We found four caches in all before the sun went down and we ambled back to our motorhomes.
We weren’t finished with wine tasting yet – we got an
early start the next morning with plans for sampling some Oregon Rogue River wines. But first we drove up through the town of Rogue River to Wimer (no town there that I could see – just lots of acreages in the trees) where L&A live. 
They’ve only recently in the last few years completed building their home, 
a beautiful log house nestled high into the forest – a secluded hideaway. They’ve decorated meticulously with each detail faithful to an earlier time in a Native American theme. 
L&A belong to the Russian Orthodox Church and they took us to their little church in the woods down a gravel pathway to the property adjacent to theirs. It’s a tiny parish with perhaps 20 families in total. There are no pews in the colourful icon-adorned interior – ‘A’ explained to me that the women with heads covered stood on one side and the men on the other during their services much like they did hundreds of years ago.
Geocaching enroute, we drove back down to Grants Pass for lunch at a local favourite cafe. The special of the day (everyday) is half a sandwich, soup and pie with the pie served first; that’s their signature – go figure. However, if you dared dig into the humungous portion of cream or fruit pie first, you’d never eat your soup and sandwich. A few miles west of Grants Pass, the Applegate Valley veered off to the south. Vineyards started to appear and then some small wineries – small in comparison to the Napa Valley. There were some really lovely venues but one of them, Rosella’s was an addition out the back of their house and the winemaker and his friend were sitting on barrels drinking beer (of all things) when we drove up. We didn’t expect much so were really surprised when the red wines were robust and flavourful and they had some nice crisp whites too. This is definitely a wine district that we must further explore on a future trip.
An explosive thunderstorm signaled the end of the hot weather the night before we left Valley of the Rogue. We rolled our satellite dish and antenna down and sat in the dark watching the dazzling flashes coupled with the immediate reverberating clashes – it was quite a show.
Next morning we rolled Maggie into Les Schwab the tire shop and our six new top-of-the-line tires were installed. We saved an amazing $1,200 from the price we were quoted in Canada – an almost 40% saving. I guess if we factored in that the Canadian dollar is currently 7.5% better than the US, we’ve saved even more. We went for breakfast and did a bit of geocaching while we waited. Then we just drove forty miles north to Seven Feathers Casino where L&A saved a spot for us. It was their 13th anniversary so they figured a romantic dinner at the casino was in order – that meant, we didn’t join them but we spent a good portion of the day together with a couple of bottles of wine.
We parted ways the next morning but first we had breakfast together at the Casino. A virtual geocache out front of the casino made us study the gigantic bronze eagle with a fish in its mouth - and the doorman, impressed by our interest in the artistic casting, brought us postcards and pamphlets about it. He was so pleased at our interest – if he only knew!
Our Holiday Rambler motorhome was manufactured by Monaco Corporation in Coburg, Oregon and Monaco welcome all owners to park at their facility just off I5 with water and electric hookups - gratis. Very nice indeed! Across from us, a 60ish couple Eileen & Chuck from Deming, Washington – in the Mount Baker area had pulled in their 38 foot 2006 high-end motorhome and were in the process of taking possession of their brand new $315,000 forty-two foot Monaco Camelot. Our petite low-end motorhome looked like its poor distant cousin. I wonder why they’d trade up for four extra feet – guess they’re made of money. Eileen, a youthful and well-dressed woman, wandered over to talk to me when I was unhooking our tow car and stowing the bar.
“I’m so impressed with you,” she emphatically stated. “I can’t believe you did that all by yourself.”
Modestly, I replied “I don’t usually do it all by myself but my husband has gone to find the security guy to assign us a spot” and added “anyway, my husband does the laundry”.
Eileen was flabbergasted at our reversal of roles – but I’d rather do that than laundry, any day.
“I don’t even come out of the motorhome – my husband does it all” she said laughingly “so I hope you don’t give him any ideas”.
“Well, just tell him he’ll have to do the laundry and that’ll stop him,” I said.
Eileen and Chuck will be taking their new motorhome to Palm Springs where they own an RV lot adjoining a golf course. They don’t venture far from there.
“It’s so hot in Palm Springs – sometimes, I open the door and if it’s really hot, I just go back in and turn the AC as high as it will go”.
Eileen’s a delicate flower of a woman. When I mentioned children, she replied “Oh no! Chuck and I don’t have children”. I’m sure they would’ve taxed her strength.
We did have a purpose in stopping at Monaco. We needed a part – the passenger side seat belt receiver is cracked and doesn’t look safe (that’s me – the passenger side). The parts and service department is near Harrisburg, fourteen miles away in the middle of farmland. It was a large confused compound of buildings with no well-marked entries, so we stopped at the security shack and spoke to the small but officious guard and asked for directions. He proceeded to take us on a short tour of the customer facilities. A fairly large campground runs across the back of the complex alongside farmland – the sites have hookups and there’s a dump station at the front. People were scurrying around between their motorhomes, socializing, cooking on barbecues and having fun – I guess. The campground is mainly for those who’ve booked service on their vehicles but if there are empty spots, any Monaco owners can have them.
The guard gestured for us to follow him and we weaved between buildings into the customer lounge that is a huge recreation room, with big comfy leather sofas and chairs and TV’s (for the men it seems because the little ladies were running around or in chattering huddles). At one end of the room, long tables were set with craft supplies ‘for the ladies’. A tour was set to leave in fifteen minutes ‘for the ladies’. There are factory tours, local tours and other organized events. I’m getting tired of this ‘for the ladies’ thing – what is it that makes them want to cluster together this way? That sounds like sour grapes, doesn’t it but I just don’t fit into this sort of group – it’s my worst nightmare.
“There’s a big pot of chili over there” our tour guide pointed “and hot dogs too – just help yourselves – and when you’re done, just come on over to the craft corner, ‘cause here’s where you git your dessert – the ladies have been busy cookin’ up a storm.” There were heaping plates of sweet goodies. “No thank you” I thought “just let me outa here”.
My discomfort harked back to earlier years – I remembered the uneasiness I’d always felt at joining in female group activities and the current batch of golden and silver haired (guess I fit that mold) ‘gals’ huddled over coffee and crafts, chatting a mile a minute in a language I couldn’t fathom and as if they’d known each other for years brought it all back. Fernie said that he felt exactly the same way when he saw the men sprawled around swapping tall tales. What’s wrong with integration? I guess we’re just a couple of misfits in our age group.
We found the parts department finally; it wasn’t easy to get to. It was full of logo items – clothing mostly and people were buying lots of it. Now why does anyone want to wear a shirt of jacket with their motorhome logo on it unless they give it to you ‘gratis’? We got our seatbelt part and vamoosed – don’t think we’ll be going back anytime soon.
Over the next few days, we cruised back up I5 like snails, stopping at outlet malls, Costco, Camping World, Walmart and so on and so forth. With our Canadian dollar so strong, we could hardly contain our consumer glee. We bought more shoes than we really need and just generally enjoyed the shopping – which is unusual for us. Can you imagine getting four pairs of Rockport shoes for $87? And that’s not factoring in the saving on the dollar.
The weather is changing now…..winter is approaching fast. We woke to frost on the windows and thick fog, which didn’t lift until we were north of Tacoma. So home beckons with a cozy fireplace, big comfy reading chairs and a toasty warm bedroom.
