Chico & Point Reyes - A Good Friends and Lots of Rain

Chico - A Reunion with Friends

Having cleared the Sierras and the snow, we arrived safely at the home of our friends, Mark and Shirley, in Chico.  In two days there, we cooked for one another, visited the Sacramento Valley National Wildlife Preserve and the Trappist monastery and vineyard of New Clairveaux and took in the Chico farmers' market on a rainy Saturday morning.  Yes!  A farmers' market in January! A lovely experience, even in a steady rain.  One of many reasons to love California.  We scored a delicious pummelo as well as some locally-made pomegranate jam.

Speaking of rain, it began raining on our second full day in Chico and hardly let up until our last day in Point Reyes, a week later.  The drought in northern California is, I believe, officially over.

(A click on any photo enlarges the photo.  Your Back arrow brings you back to the journal, I think.)

Shirley and Mark were excellent hosts to weary travelers.

Another treat was the local taco truck which offered delicious tacos for a dollar each, a deal to beat all deals.  I was disappointed when it rained the next day and the taco truck didn't show up.

Mark took a break from being a good host and cleaned our clocks in a game of Catan Saturday evening.  I'm going to have to practice for a rematch with my grandson, Aidan, when we return home.

I'll tell the rest of the story of our stay in Chico in photos.

Sacramento Valley Wildlife Preserve

Not such a good bird photographer, but I do well with landscapes.

On the road outside Chico

On the road, evidence of the drought's end

My one keeper bird photo

On To Point Reyes and Another Good Friend

We drove four hours to Point Reyes in a steady rain.  My friend, John, emailed to tell me that we were in the midst of a major storm hitting the west coast.  It had never occurred to either Carol or me because what was falling wasn't white stuff.  We arrived in the middle of a five-day span when the area received ten inches of rain.

Carol and Elisabeth, friends since high school

No sooner had we arrived at Elisabeth's lovely home overlooking Tomales Bay in Inverness than she told us we could drive into Point Reyes after dinner to hear live music, a local blues musician named Lowell Levinger, nicknamed Banana.  Any music trivia folks reading this?  Do you remember him?  He was part of the 60's group, the Youngbloods.  (Remember them?  Take a listen.)

We were psyched to hear live music, but it wasn't to happen.  We thought we had left hazardous road conditions behind at the Donner Pass, but on the dark roads into town I drove the RAV4 right into eighteen inches of water.  I carefully got us out of the mess, thinking all the time of cars swept off roads in such situations.  We drove back to Elisabeth's, the evening's entertainment complete.

We spent a good week with Elisabeth, rain notwithstanding.  Carol and Elisabeth spent hours reminiscing over their Visitation Academy year books.  Elisabeth invited four friends to dinner one evening, a very good time.  We managed a few hikes and investigated the shops of Point Reyes Station.  On our last full day, the sun broke through brilliantly. 

Here it all is in photos.  First, In and around Pt. Reyes Station:

A Treasure of a Book Store

Lots of Good Stuff To Be Had

On the edge of town

Inside the barn

Cow's-eye View of the world

Our Lady of the Harbor

Tomales Bay

Turkey Vulture

Friends

The home of Philip K. Dick's widow.  He wrote "The Man in the High Castle" here.

 A few scenes from Point Reyes National Seashore:

Welcome!  Beware!

After the rain, a trail detour

The Pacific Ocean

An optimistic coyote?  He didn't seem to cause much concern for the herd.

At Tomales Point, we hiked among herds of Tule elk.

The elk were not too concerned about us.

You lookin' at me?

From Elisabeth's deck, the end of the storm:

Tomales Bay

The morning after the rainbow, we said good-bye to Elisabeth and headed for San Luis Obispo.

Back on the Road Again - Western Road Trip '17

 Sunday, New Year's Day 2017:  Clear Skies and Dry Roads

At midnight, I was in my tuxedo, champagne flute in hand, and Carol in her black party dress as we sang Auld Lang Syne at Peter and Peggy's annual party.  Five hours later we were on the road under a starry sky.  We passed Clinton Falls, MN.  My friends, Eric and Donna, on their own road trip the day after the fateful November election, took a photo of the exit sign for the town of Clinton Falls.  I wondered if somewhere in this fractured country there might be a Trump Falls.

A good start.  We passed the Primary Iowa Welcome Center, then turned west on I-80 as the sun rose behind us.  Flat terrain, sliced into segments by fences and streams, evolved into rolling hills.  The countryside was winter brown, no snow in sight.  A towering obelisk, a wind turbine blade, marked a rest stop.  The size of it was jaw-dropping.

Monday:  Fog and Ice

In this, our fourth year of road trips west, weather would for the first time be a factor.

On the road early, in dense fog on icy slick roads.  In the first mile, we encountered the glaring red and blue lights of several emergency vehicles.  In the right lane, a minivan lay upside down, the roof over driver's seat flattened.  On the back of the van a bike rack with a child's bike was undisturbed.

We drove in fog for 170 miles into Colorado.  Then, 90 miles from Denver, the fog lifted as if someone flipped a switch.

(A double click on any photo will enlarge it to screen size.)

In Colorado, one minute we had near zero visibility and...

Five minutes later!

In Boulder, we visited Carol's nephew, Justin, and his fiancée, Susie.

 Tuesday:  Snow and Traffic Snarls

We departed Boulder in a snowstorm.  I-25 north to Cheyenne was a bumper-to-bumper slog all the way to Fort Collins, a nearly sixty-mile traffic jam.  By the time we passed Fort Collins and the traffic thinned, we had given up all thoughts of keeping to a schedule.

At 9:30, excitement!  We made it to westbound I-80 at Cheyenne, Wyoming, and at the same time got a phone call from Ellen, who wanted to borrow our squirrel traps!  We talked about the fine points of trapping squirrels and taking them for a ride in the country as I turned left toward California.  I-80 was slow going on hard-packed snow as we headed into the harsh, rugged, dangerous beauty of Wyoming and Utah.  We passed semi-trailers at 40 mph, just happy that it wasn't snowing.  Around lunch time, we reached Rawlins, WY, the junction for the road north to Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks.

For a good time in Rawlins, Wyoming

We made it to Salt Lake City without incident.

On the road in Utah

Wild Utah

 Wednesday:  Snow, Rain and Trucks with Chains

Weather reports warned of "winter road conditions" as we ate our breakfast at La Quinta, the car packed and ready to go.  Would we make it all the way to Reno?  Elko and Winnemucca were possible havens if the weather worsened.  The first two and a half hours offered dry conditions, and we made time at 80 mph.  At least we wouldn't have to turn back to Salt Lake City.  At 9:30, Elko, forty miles away, was a reasonable goal.

An hour out of Salt Lake City, we had descended onto vast salt flats, which offered us a stunning, unalterable, treeless landscape in shades of gray in every direction.  The road in front of us stretched arrow-straight to the horizon. 

We were the lone passenger vehicle amidst the semi-trailer trucks for the longest time.  This time of year, I suppose, there is not much reason to drive west from Salt Lake City.  Then we saw our first passenger car, headed east - a Yellow Cab!  It was not the only strange sight of the morning.  At one point, fifty yards out on the flats, a car tire sat, perfectly upright.  Another time I spotted a tiny island of dry land not large enough to park a car.  In the center of the island stood a small, solitary Christmas tree.

On and on the salt flats spread out before us, the road and its denizens the only human intrusion.  The feeling of isolation was overpowering.  I thought of listening to our recorded book but couldn't bring myself to break the spell.  Small mountains signaled  the end of the salt flats and the town of West Wendover, Nevada, gateway to the famed Bonneville Raceway.

Past the salt flats, the road climbed into a small range of mountains.  Truckers pulled over to put on their chains.  We plowed on without too much trouble.

As we approached Elko, Nevada, a roadside sign advised us that Starbucks awaited at the next exit.  Yes!  We arrived at the Red Lion Casino, which housed the coffee mecca, only to be told by a staff person that the power was out.  No power!  No coffee!  No luck!  I went in, just in case the young man didn't know what he was talking about.

Inside the main entrance I was greeted with near complete darkness.  As my eyes adjusted to the dark, strange shapes began to form in the shadows before me.  The shapes slowly became people sitting on stools next to their slot machines, waiting still and silent, for the power and the good times to return.

Thursday:  Almost Stuck in Reno

We awoke Thursday morning to find that a storm had passed through in the night.  Donner Pass, according to reports, was nearly impassable.  Four-wheel drive and snow tires or chains were essential.  I had visions of snow piled ten feet high by the side of the road, a long, slow-moving of cars with their wheels churning through the snow pack, plows frantically clearing the way.  We sat in our motel room, pondering the imponderable.  Another day in Reno.

Reno, our last morning on the road

Then I thought, if they want tire chains then, by god, I'll get chains.  In my lifetime, my only experience with chains was watching  my father put them on his 1954 Ford Fairlane when I was a boy.  An hour later I had laid out my shiny new chains on the bed and mimed the motions of attaching them to our tires as Carol read the instructions.  Easy peasy.  Shortly afterwards, we were on the road, ready for adventure but not sure what we were getting into.

As we drove into the foothills we decided it was time to pull over and attempt to put on the chains.  So we eased into the RAV4 into the extra wide "chain up" shoulder along with a line of semis. The air was damp and cold; the shoulder, soggy.  We quickly learned that putting actual chains on actual tires in bad weather conditions is not as easy as practicing in a warm motel room.  Just as we were coming to grips with the reality that we were in for a bit of a chore, a car horn honked nearby on a frontage road.  An angel driving a white truck stopped and was speaking to us.  The truck was not from heaven, but from CalTrans, the California Department of Transportation.  The bearded driver told us that I-80 was now open for "twenty or twenty-five miles."  Just like that, we rolled up those chains, stowed them and drove on.

Donner Pass was beautiful, forests of pines weighted with fresh snow under a brilliant sun.  The roads were surprisingly clear.  We made it over over the pass, not having to eat anyone.  Past Truckee, it was all downhill.  Shortly afterwards, we exited from the interstate onto CA Route 20, a scenic highway through snow-covered forest.  Soon enough we had descended to lower elevations devoid of snow.  The temperature rose.  We had arrived in California!