First Bath

We decided to take advantage of a "no camping" weekend and give Bullwinkle his first bath. After a couple of months on the road and several nights by the sea and in dusty campgrounds, this moose was overdue.

We had no clue how you give a moose a bath. We did our research and loaded up our supplies: a couple of buckets, microfiber towels and baby shampoo. (Really, baby shampoo!) Our storage facility has a handy wash area. For $25 we had four hours of access to a space to work, a long hose and water. With that, we went to work on our 1,325 square-foot task.


We started with the roof. P bravely climbed up the ladder in back (not the one in the pic) and hosed things down. (13 feet is a long way up!)


We divided the work fairly equally. P took care of everything above six feet or so. M washed and dried everything below. Here's P rinsing away with his feet firmly on the ground, behind our nifty new ladder that helped him reach the highest heights with ease.


Here's what makes this ladder nifty. It folds up to the size of a two-by-four and stores nicely in our pass-through bay in the "basement".

About three hours later we were done. And, Bullwinkle was once again sparkling in the sun.

Here are a couple of before and after pics, so you can admire our work, too! (Click on any pic for a closeup view.)


The front was the worst. Hundreds of bugs have met their maker on this grungy surface.


Now it's ready for that first "splat", which will probably happen three minutes into our next trip.


The sides were bug-free, but covered in road grime.


Now it's clean as a whistle, and ready for our next voyage.

We're not sure you can tell a difference in these pictures. But, we sure can. We're both moaning and groaning with stiff muscles after all this work. Though, the sense of accomplishment after cleaning a beast like this is really something!

Meanwhile, Bullwinkle will sit gathering dust for awhile. It'll be next month before we hit the road again.

See you then!

Back from Ft. Bragg

The Northern California coast is absolutely stunning. No doubt about it. And, we soaked up as much as we could over Labor Day weekend at Ft. Bragg.

The drive to and from Ft. Bragg is not for the faint of heart, especially in a motorhome. On the way up, we turned off Highway 101 at Cloverdale, and did a 50-something-mile gig of hairpin turns with very narrow shoulders. There was a flat part or two, but it all seemed pretty darn curvy. With the 50 curvy miles behind us, we faced a 15-mile drive north on equally curvy Highway 1 to Ft. Bragg. Sure, there was an amazing ocean coast to our left, but I don't think either one of us actually saw it.

After a very relaxing four-night weekend, we took an alternate route back. From Ft. Bragg, we went just a couple of miles north of our campgrounds on a very straight patch of Highway 1 to the intersection of Highway 20. Highway 20 is a 33-mile stretch of curvy roads that are slightly wider and might, in a few spots, actually have a shoulder. The road is shared with cars, trucks, other RVs and high-speed logging trucks. Yes, it's an adventure! Where Highway 20 intersects with Highway 101 we headed south and experienced slow single lane traffic, road construction, hills, curves, the bumpiest roads known to mankind and traffic. Lots of fun.

Round these parts, when people head to Ft. Bragg, a great debate remains: Do you take Highway 128 out of Cloverdale or Highway 20 out of Willits?

We say it's six of one, half-dozen of the other.

Let the great debate continue!

Two Sides of Highway 1

Our Labor Day weekend camping in Fort Bragg actually spanned both sides of Highway 1. We spent three nights with our friends in a group site (which we think is actually the play area) at Woodside RV Park and Campground on the west side of Highway 1, just south of Ft. Bragg. From here, a look at the beach was just a bike ride and short stroll away. And, we were able to assemble our rigs in close proximity to each other and a campfire that kept us sharing stories and food and staying warm all weekend.

Honestly, other than that great impromptu group site, this campground was basically a dump. If you know Mendocino County, you'll understand. About three-quarters of the place was filled with "permanent" residents in "rigs" of various states of disrepair. Basically, there were a half dozen or so pull-throughs with Labor Day weekend campers and us in the play area. The rest of the folks lived there.

The place where we keep Bullwinkle is closed on major holidays, including Labor Day. So, our plans were to head home on Tuesday. With the rest of our group heading out on Labor Day, we made other plans. On Sunday, we had peddled across Highway 1 to Pomo RV Park and Campground. We liked what we saw. While it didn't offer the ambience of camping with our abalone diving friends, it did offer spacious full hookup sites with lots of privacy...and no permanent residents. It was nice. And, they had plenty of space for Monday night.

As Monday morning turned to afternoon, our friends headed out. With best wishes for safe travels and treasured memories of a fun weekend with friends, we packed up and got ready to move.


With our shortest ever commute from one campground to another (about 1/4 mile), we crossed Highway 1 into the pristine comfort of Pomo. The woman at registration graciously allowed us to check in early at Site #5, which featured a level pad, full hookups, tons of shade and an expansive view of a grassy meadow.

Two campgrounds that were decidedly different. One dumpy place offered a delightful place to hang out with friends for a few days. Great fun! Another offered a cozy place for us to spend a night alone with all the camping comforts we enjoy.

We loved it!

All About Abalone

Our camping weekend at Ft. Bragg was really all about abalone. The group of friends we joined are avid abalone divers. They make a couple of dives every season: Memorial Day and Labor Day. For us, this camping adventure was a culinary first. We were abalone newbies! We weren't sure how, or if, we'd like it. But, we were definitely up for the adventure of it all.

On Saturday, we headed to the beach with the divers in our group to see what's what in diving for abalone. We chose not to actually do any diving. Instead, we did our best to document the work of Matt, Steve, Manny and Robert. (And, relax and enjoy a sunny day on the beach while they were doing their thing.)

Matt and Steve headed out first. They walked the beach and jumped into the frigid Pacific to swim toward their favorite abalone finding spot. (You can see them in the lower left corner above.)


Manny and Robert donned their dive gear and headed out in Robert's boat. (And P and M sat in the sun on the beach. Very relaxing!)

An hour or so later, all of the divers returned safely and successfully with their limit of the sea urchins that look like rocks when they come out of the water (Didn't get any pics of that.) and something else when they are cleaned. (Didn't get any pics of that, either. One of us was napping!)


With the abalone cleaned and ready to go, Robert went to work making thin slices of the things. (Note: It's extra helpful to go abalone camping with a caterer. He brought along industrial equipment to make quick work of the job.) The thin slices were tough as nails. M tried to push her thumb through the center of several slices and couldn't. (That's tough!)


If thin slicing is the first step to making abalone edible, pounding is definitely the second. With mallets hand-crafted by camper John, the group set about the task of pounding these thin little abalone discs into something that looks like a dishrag, and is one step closer to being a delicacy.

The next step to making abalone edible is dipping each pounded piece into flour, eggs and herbed bread crumbs. (Yes, plastic gloves ARE essential!)

Finally, each sliced, pounded and breaded piece took a bath in hot oil. At last, they were ready. With shared sides and lots of tasty beer and wine, these yummy delicacies were enjoyed by all.

And what did the newbies think?

Basically, we like just about anything that's breaded and deep fried. (Who doesn't?) And, abalone is no exception. Especially when enjoyed in the great outdoors in the company of friends, this is mighty tasty stuff.

Sandy Beach

We changed up our "routine" (if we have one) and left after work Friday for this trip. We were in mad dash mode 'til we arrived at Solano County's Sandy Beach Park on the opposite side of the Sacramento River from Duck Island. (You can see Sandy Beach in our Duck Island post. So, here's a look back at Duck Island.)


Site #7 is a shady enclave that looked inviting but proved to be less welcoming. It took us a good hour to get parked, level and extend the slides. The sites here are mini loops off the right side of the campground road. Our challenge was to position our moose precisely so the bedroom slide wouldn't hit any tree branches and the "big ass slide" (as it is affectionately known) on the other side didn't stick out into the road. Add to that mix was the unique (to us so far) situation of having water and electric connections on the right side of the back of the site. Like all other RVs we've ever seen, our connections are on the left side -- and ours are near the center of that side. Fortunately, we had an extra few feet of cord and hose to spare. Once we were in a spot where our slides wouldn't get creamed and we had power and water we got to the business of getting level. Anytime we have to lower and raise leveling jacks more than a couple of times leveling is taking too much time! At 9PM on a Friday night, it's time to declare yourself level enough. And, we did. We broke out our new Weber Q (If you look really close in the pic above you can see it to the right below the moose.) for very late night burgers. P mastered the new tool in the dark. The burgers were mighty tasty!

In the wee hours of the night the delta breeze turned into a gale force wind, which sent a tiny branch or two across the surface of the bedroom slide right above our bed. The high pitch screeching sound was irritating enough. But, it was compounded as we both awoke and visions of deep grooves being dug into our full body paint filled our sleepy heads. Determined to remedy the situation ASAP, we jumped out of bed, fired up the engine and pulled in the slide. We're sure our tent camping neighbors loved hearing our Ford V-10 fire up at 3AM. Of course, there was no way anybody could hear anything over that howling wind! With the offending twigs at a safe distance, we were able to sleep peacefully as the delta gale forces rocked and rolled us through the night. With the dawn of a new day we checked outside for damage. Thankfully, the grooves and scratches we'd imagined were not a reality. We spent a few minutes performing surgery on the offending tree. Campgrounds frown on this practice. But, current and future residents of Site 7 love it.

We extended the slide again, but our enjoyment of our spacious bedroom was short lived. The gale force winds came back with gusto after lunch, and the slide topper over our big slide took a beating. No damage, thankfully, as it's designed to flex with the wind. But, inside, it sounded like incoming artillery as the strong crosswind put the topper to the test. We decided to play it safe and retract the big slide. With that, things got quiet. And, with 50 or so fewer square feet inside, it got really cozy, too! And, so it stayed for the rest of the weekend.


During the mid-morning eye of this hurricane, we hopped on the bikes and pedaled into Rio Vista for a few groceries. The ride was nice and the people were nicer. There are lots of friendly folk around here. We were grateful for the opportunity to get a bit of exercise, because our afternoon was quite lazy. We watched Olympics, read and napped in our cozy little moose as the incessant wind forced us to stay in and relax. (Though we didn't mind a bit.)

Now, those of you who know us know we know wind. We've grown up with a lot of it. So, we know a gale force when we see one. I tried to get a picture, which can be tough. (Where's a weather dog when you need one?) But, I did my best. The wind blew at least this hard...all the time. And, yes, it did get old.


Sunday morning we watched all the campers in the neighborhood pack up in the wind and move out. It was an extra special treat to know we didn't have to. We got back on the bikes (It's so great to have them with us!) for a little geocaching around town. We picked up six and made two trips across this very breezy drawbridge. We had a great time.


The best thing about being in a campground on Monday morning is...well, not being at work. The second best thing is enjoying the peace and quiet. With coffees in hand we strolled to the river and took in the view of the sandy beach. All weekend this place was filled to the brim with sunbathers, swimmers and jet skiers. This morning it was beautiful.


As our long weekend drew to a close, we were ready to get out of the wind for good. Once we were packed and on the road, P had the pleasure of managing our very non-aerodynamic box on wheels against the stiff delta breeze. Thankfully, Sandy Beach is close to home. So, the drive was short.

We're rested and relaxed. Though, our next stop will be some place nice and calm.

On Our Own Again

Now, that's a sad sight, isn't it? It's the last bus pulling out of the campground. With that, our weekend party was over. That left us as just about the last weekenders in the place. With the shortest drive of the day, we decided we'd take our time packing up and sharing goodbyes with our new friends.

After the last bus pulled away, we made some time to clean up the moose. It's becoming a bit of a Sunday ritual for us. By making cleaning up the last thing we do before we pull out, we know we'll have a clean coach waiting for us on our next trip out. And, that makes the end of a trip a little less depressing.

With less than a 30-mile Sunday afternoon drive ahead of us, time flew. We were backing Bullwinkle into his parking spot before we knew it, and soon enjoying the last bits of the weekend at home.

We don't know where we're headed next, or exactly when. Looks like we have some research to do and reservations to make. Watch this space!

Amongst the Busses

That's Bullwinkle on the left, looking a bit out of place amongst the big ol' busses. (Yeah, that's a 20-ft. Class C next to us. But, its owners have three busses they left at home.)

These rolling bits of Americana bring back memories of a much simpler time. Today, in their new lives, these busses have all the comforts of home and then some. And, they are lovingly cared for by their dedicated owners who see them as a constant work in progress. They're sort of like a hobby on wheels.

We had a little impromptu open house this afternoon and got to see what's inside. They are way cool! They are not-so-little rock solid boxes of classic craftsmanship. It was a real treat to take a look. We've really enjoyed getting to know their owners. Nice people.

Life at Duck Island continues to be relaxing. Yesterday we took a bike ride up and and across the river to check out a county park with a mighty nice RV campground. It comes highly recommended by a couple we met in Plymouth. We'll definitely be back and give it a try...in the less windy season.