Who Am I?

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A nobody; a nitwit; a pilot; a motorcyclist; a raconteur; a lover...of life - who loves to laugh, who tries to not take myself (or anything) too seriously...just a normal guy who knows his place in the universe by being in touch with my spiritual side. What more is there?

18 April 2017

My Summer Vacations...

When I posted that last installment of Jacob and my trip last year from Washington State to Florida, it was with the realization that in a very short time I’ll be leaving again to go back north. While my summer job generally lasts from May to September, I was coerced last year until staying longer. The boss picked up a big cropdusting contract, and he needed my help. So I stayed…much, much longer than expected. I left in mid-December. It was cold and snowy, two conditions I'd hoped to never again experience.

So my time here in Florida this year amounts to nothing more than a visit. I had rented-out one bedroom out last year before I left. And as soon as I did that, a family member also needed a place to stay. So I’ve got two people/tenants. They each have their way of arranging things in the kitchen and such. Consequently I feel like a stranger in my own house. And now I’m leaving again in less than a week.

Every year, my friends make fun of me because I say that each season in Washington will be my last. They know I’ll go back…and I always have. This summer will mark my seventh year. And it really will be my last…for a while, anyway.

It’s not that the summer job isn’t fun – it is! But there’s no free time. It’s a continuous duty job with no days off. Even when the forecast calls for a zero percent chance of rain for the next thirty days…even when there’s not a cloud between us and Hawaii…it could still rain. It’s weird. A little shower will form over the Cascade Mountains, mosey down into the Okanogan Valley, and boom…some grower’s cherries will get wet. The farmers pay us a lot of money just to sit on “standby,” so we can’t take the chance of not being there, even if that chance of rain is miniscule.

Occasionally, a group of us will take off and go tubing down the Methow River, or swimming up at Soap Lake. But cell phone service at such remote places is still spotty and/or nonexistent. If one or more of us needed to fly, we’d be out of touch. That, of course is unacceptable. And so even though I have gone down the river and up to the lake, I always feel guilty and tense; it’s hard to relax.

Shortly after I got back, I bought a another motorcycle – another Harley Sportster, my third. My other two Harleys were great, but this 1996 model is closer to my idea of a perfect Sportster, having things like spoke wheels. My last two Sportsters had Harley’s “mag” wheels, which look great, but I think a proper motorcycle just should have spokes. I have some other changes planned for it, but they are minor and will be fairly inexpensive. I’ve got a ton of spare parts in stock that will bolt right on this new bike.

Here I am with the "new" Sportster just after purchase. The seat has already been changed. The handlebars, exhaust system and air cleaner and a few other things are next. I initially wanted a red one, but I have to say I love the blue color.

So, life being what it is, I didn’t get to ride the bike much over the winter. First of all, the bike sat for a while before I bought it and the carburetor needs to be rebuilt, which I never got around to doing. The custom, aftermarket exhaust system the previous owner installed is WAY TOO DAMN LOUD and I need to find a suitable, quieter replacement, which I so far have not. I want to change the handlebars. So let’s just say this bike is a work-in-progress at the moment. Which is okay.

When I get back to Florida in September I want to make the detail changes to the Harley to make it “mine” and more rideable. By next spring, I want to take some trips on the Harley…while I still have time.

Going down that long, lonesome highway
Bound for the mountains and the plains
Sure ain’t nothing here gonna tie me
And I’ve got some friends I’d like to see again

12 April 2017

Washington State to Florida - 2016: The Grand Canyon

The final installment, at last!

When we last met up with our intrepid travelers, Jacob and I had just hit Los Angeles, California. This was back in December of 2016.  Upon leaving Washington, my plan to go south and get quickly into warmer weather had worked. Southern California was as beautiful...and crowded...as we all know it is - I don't have to tell you that. It's nice, but you couldn't pay me to live there.

We made a mandatory stop for lunch at In-N-Out, the burger joint with which every other burger joint on the planet is compared, apparently. Meh- it was okay. I don't know why Californians rave so enthusiastically about In-N-Out. I guess I don't get all that excited about hamburgers anymore.

Jacob had never been to the Grand Canyon, and I've only been there once when I was very young. So there was no question that it, like the Pacific Coast Highway was on our itinerary.  Instead of taking I-10 eastbound, we took I-15 to Barstow and then hooked off onto I-40 east. Once past Williams, Arizona you take Highway 64 north a long way up into the Grand Canyon National Park.

You know how things get smaller as you get older...your childhood bedroom, for instance? Well I'm happy to report that it's not the case with the Grand Canyon. It remains impressively, impossibly huge.  If you haven't experienced it, you should.  It should be on everybody's bucket list. We took a bazillion pictures, of course.  But pictures on a blogpost simply don't do it justice. When it comes to some of the places in this country, you just have to go. The Grand Canyon is one of them.

Jacob and I started at the main visitor's center, taking the rim trail down to Grand Canyon Village. It's an easy hike with plenty of overlooks. And, just like on our canoe trips, we took our time and didn't rush. This is a place where you really need to slow down and drink in the majesty and grandeur of it all.

Obviously, a 2D picture just can't do the Grand Canyon justice

Here's a view looking across toward the north rim.  But wait...what's that little speck down on that outcropping of rock?

Yep, it's Mr. Jacob "I'll do anything for a good selfie" Speed.  I think he's peeing.

At Grand Canyon Village visited the historic El Tovar Hotel which opened in 1905.  I would have loved to stay there, but my last name ain't Trump.  We settled for a (pricey) lunch in their fancy restaurant.  Hey, anything with cloth tablecloths qualifies as "fancy" in my book. I'll say this: The food was better than at In-N-Out.  But then, the whole Grand Canyon experience was so incredible that they could've served us dog poop on a platter and I would've loved it.

As with everything on this trip, I wished we'd had more time at the Grand Canyon. But both Jacob and I needed to get back to our respective homes, and admittedly we'd been dawdling. The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful...ohhh, other than breaking down in Clinton, Oklahoma when the ignition switch in the Buick decided to fry itself at a gas stop...at night, of course. We actually had plenty of gas, but thank Jesus I decided to stop a little "early" at the Love's Truck Stop instead of waiting until we really needed it and would be out in the middle of nowhere between towns. Sometimes you have to trust your intuition.

Jacob and I tried everything we knew to get the car started, but it was hopeless.  And dark. However, good fortune smiled on us when I asked the manager of the truck stop if he could recommend a company that could tow our dead car to a shop. He said he knew a trustworthy local mechanic who lived nearby. Sure enough, two guys in a beat-up work truck soon arrived and set about diagnosing the problem.  A new ignition switch would have to be ordered, which would mean it wouldn't even arrive until around noon of the next day. With no other choice, Jacob and I punched up Hotels.com. Happily, I was eligible for a free night stay, so that was good.

I was skeptical that things would work out - it must be the helicopter pilot in me. But sure enough, the new switch came in and the mechanic worked feverishly to get us going. Three hundred dollars later, we were on the road by four p.m.

After dropping off some aircraft parts in Arkansas we drove through the night, and arrived in Pensacola early the next morning (Sunday). We'd spent six days on the road. I, for one, was happy to be "home." However that feeling was tempered somewhat by the knowledge that in just four months I'd be heading back up to Washington.

09 February 2017

Washington State To Florida - 2016: The PCH

Ah, the famous Pacific Coast Highway.

Let me admit this right up front: I don’t much like Southern California.  Oh, I get it… I understand what everyone sees in the place and why everyone wants to live there.  Trouble is, everyone already does.  It’s just way too crowded for this boy. I myself would have avoided it, but Jacob wanted to drive down the Pacific Coast Highway, and the boss wanted me to stop in Riverside (within the L.A. area) to look at a helicopter.  So California was unavoidably on our route. 

There is one problem with going down the Pacific Coast Highway…well, two problems, actually.  The first is that you see stunning vistas at every curve in the road! that make you want to stop and take a picture.  The second is that you end up with a gazillion pictures and have to choose only a couple of them to put up on Facebook or in a blogpost.  The day Jacob and I drove the PCH it was cloudy and hazy.  Since this is the Time Of The Internet you can Google much prettier photos of the road than the crappy ones I took. 

California State Route 1 (the PCH) from San Francisco down to San Luis Obispo is an incredible road; one that everyone should drive in their lifetime.  It's one of my all-time favorite roads.  The scenery is simply breathtaking, even on a scuzzy day.  (There is a northern extension of the PCH that goes up the coast out of San Francisco.  I’ll have to explore that one later – maybe when I drive back up to Washington in the spring!)

The PCH is a fun road.  It pretty much hugs the coastline, rising and dipping with the terrain but generally high above the water so you get dramatic, sensational views of the Pacific Ocean and the bluffs between you and it.  But it also passes through forests and farmland.  It's really pretty incredible.  There are turnouts and parking areas aplenty where you can stop and get photographs that'll bring back fond memories for years to come.

Unfortunately, the PCH is a victim of its own beauty.  It can be crowded!  You have to be careful, for there is usually a parade of cars racing from one scenic overlook to the next.  At each one people scramble out and rush to take snapshots and selfies, then jump back in and hurry on.  If you get caught in such a clump of tourists it can be very frustrating.  The key is to pace yourself and not go with the herd, stay between them.  Take the time to drink in the scenery.

Here's Jacob, somewhere along the Pacific Coast Highway, doing what he does best. 

A long, long time ago my mom was living in Los Angeles.  My youngest sister, Eleanor (who we for some reason always called Susie which we later learned she hated) planned to be married at a place in the hills north of San Francisco.  Beautiful setting.  I flew out to L.A. from Florida and rented a Ford Mustang Convertible.  Mom and I took “the 5” northbound, but a couple of days later when we headed back south I opted for the PCH.  It was a great ride…sunny day, top down…perfect!  There wasn’t much traffic and I was, ahem, enjoying the curviness and hilliness of the road.  The mood was spoiled however by my mom’s constant shrieking, ”BOBBY, YOU’RE GOING TO KILL US!  SLOW DOWN!!”

Moms can be such a buzzkill.  I had to turn the radio up really loud to drown out her screams.  She hasn't driven with me since then, come to think about it.  Hmm.

These days I no longer have the need to see how fast I can go around every corner.  And the big, ol’ overloaded Buick crew car just has no such sporty-car pretentions.  Did I mention that the boss asked me to carry 500 pounds of aircraft parts to an overhaul facility in Oklahoma?  Plus all of my crap, and Jacob's bags.  Our ass was dragging...well, the Buick's ass was.  It most definitely did not want to be hurried.  Driving it on a winding, hilly road like the Pacific Coast Highway was like dancing with a fat chick: You have to plan those changes of direction well in advance.  And she’d run out of steam fast.  And getting slowed and/or stopped took some anticipation as well.  It was a lot more fun in the svelte Mustang, let me tell you! 

Just before sunset Jacob and I stopped for supper at a place called the Whale Watchers CafĂ© in the Big Sur town of Gorda.  Nice, side-of-the-road joint like you’d hope to find on a road trip like this.  We were the only customers.  The place has gotten some really mixed reviews online.  The waitress/owner said that the mushrooms in the dish I ordered were picked that day by her husband.  We ate a decent, if unremarkable and overpriced meal in a very peaceful setting.  However, the clam chowder in a breadbowl was pretty good, actually.  It was too cloudy/hazy to see the sunset though.  But we sat and ate and watched the Pacific Ocean roll in as daylight faded.  It would've been romantic if I hadn't been with Jacob.  Still, quite enjoyable.  And no, we did not see any whales.

We made it all the way down to Pismo Beach, where we found a nice motel with a heated outdoor pool and hot tub.  This was becoming something of a prerequisite.  So far, we weren’t exactly making good time.  This would come back to haunt us as the trip progressed.  

Next morning we continued southbound.  Once you hit Santa Barbara you realize that you're in southern California now: Everything is more crowded.  At Ventura we went inland for a while on the 101.  Then we cut across the Malibu Canyon Road to get to the coast again.  While it was a gorgeous drive, we were locked in a never-ending conga line of traffic, and all of the turnouts had "No Parking" signs so you couldn't even stop to take pictures.  Bummer.  Malibu itself is a huge disappointment - way overcrowded and congested.  This ain't the California that the Beach Boys sang about.

We made it all the way to the Santa Monica pier, stuck in gridlock traffic.  It was not fun.  Finally I found I-10 and we beat feet toward Riverside.

I wish that we'd had better weather for the trip down the PCH.  I wish I took better pictures.  And I wish that we'd had more time.  It is not a trip that should be rushed.  Still, it was worth the diversion.

05 January 2017

Washington to Florida - 2016: San Francisco

You can't traverse the state of California from north to south without seeing San Francisco, right? It's a beautiful city.

Coming down I-5 from the north isn’t a particularly great drive.  California is pretty and all, but the inland scenery isn’t what you’d call spectacular.  You do pass close by Mt. Shasta and Redding where my friend, pilot and musician, Hal Johnson lives.  And of course there is the town of Weed, which always makes me laugh when I see the sign for the exit even though I know that the town got its name from Abner Weed, a lumberman, not the hippies growing and smoking marijuana up in the hills.  At least, that's the story...

We stopped short of San Francisco in the town of Vacaville.  Next morning we got off the Interstate at Vallejo where we cut across to Highway 101 which would take us down into San Francisco via the Golden Gate Bridge.

Californians are a little strange.  They don't say, "Take 101 south."  Instead, they'll  say something like, "Take the 101 to the 5 and then take that to the 10 east to Florida."  Don't ask me why.  Here in the south, it's different.  We'd never think of saying, "Well, just take the 10 to the 29 and then take that to Montgomery where you catch the 85 to Atlanta."  They'd look at you funny down here.  But all Californians seem to refer to roads as "the"- something.

Anyway...I jumped off the 101 at the north end of the Golden Gate Bridge. There's a park with a nice overlook of the bridge and the harbor. However, the sun was just at the wrong angle - I should've gone across to the south side for better lighting. Nevertheless, the views were breathtaking even if the pictures didn't come out so great.

The obligatory shot of the Golden Gate Bridge and (of course!) a selfie of me and Jacob

From there we hopped across into San Francisco proper and headed for the town of Pacifica where we were to pick up the Pacific Coast Highway southbound.