As I wrote it then: More Catching Up Tomorrow!

What an amazing day today was, although I can’t post tonight as my location is out of range, not even cell here. I’m somewhere near Willits and as previously when I found myself in Willits I feel contentment. Didn’t start out the day content, was short of sleep. I managed to block the blazing light (at the hotel) from the area where there should have been a door seal with the coverlet jammed into the door, t was just right, a towel took care of the bottom; you see the room was satisfactory and the bed comfortable, it was my brother’s woes and the on-going personal drama of being me and the people close to me that shorted me on sleep…worry….how to solve the unsolvable, how to try with your last ounce of courage to reach…oh wait that’s Man of La Mancha. (one of my readers will appreciate that.)

San Francisco

Shot through the windshield : The City

After a disheartening breakfast I headed into thick traffic. Moving at 17 mph (btw I wrote a master’s thesis on alternative transportation and 17 mph, according to my research, is what our fwys are headed for…and we will find it acceptable, as I did on my way to San Francisco.) I called a friend who lives in San Jose, his machine was full and not taking any messages…sorry!!! San Fran was the same as I’d seen it last, full of cars with morning grays. I’d forgotten, or never noticed, how narrow the lanes are. What was nice from the LT, was the view. I could see over the tops of the cars for a beautiful horizon. I was relishing my perspective as a bus joined me, then a truck, then three trucks and another bus bonded to my trail though the City. (That’s right, no more view but I could see the eyes of the truck drivers.) The fwy had morphed, I could not remember if 101 had always become nothing more than a normal twisty streets like this or not.

Olympia respects the wildlife nesting area

I’d promised the dogs a walk and finding Chrissy Fields and the Shoreline Park near the Golden Gate Bridge. we took off brushing shoulders with the residents, most of whom had their dogs off leash even on the designated nesting habitat protection areas. I didn’t seen any nests but I thought it bad dog stewardship.

The sun poked holes in the gray. My friend Sue, who was also traveling, returned my call. I was going to get to see her! We’d met at Santa Barbara City College working in the multimedia lab then she had to return to her home in Scotland. I’ve missed her and was so delighted to successfully park the beast and find her and her and her companion in the crowd at Pier 39. We tried to catch up on the last 8 years.

After lunch and promises for me to visit them in Scotland, it was back to finding the Golden Gate Bridge.

There’s a sign indicating that the right most lane is wide for trucks and RVs…WOW! Beware, the wind funnels at the curve pushing large vehicles sharply in the direction of the turn.  Scraped the rim on the rear tire, thankfully nothing worse. The lane didn’t seem particularly wide.

With no specific plan other than north by north west I drove. And drove.  And drove. While I was doing this I spotted the sign for Real Goods store and demos in Hopland. It was 5 pm and they were open until 6.  Lots of interesting things and exhibits but expensive. Too expensive. I was subdued, what would Dale say if he knew? Solar and hydro, organic clothes and “green” gizmos for the well-healed. I miss Dale so intensely that I expect others, even stranger to notice how much I wish he was here. I wear a flag that says, Dale, where the hell are you!

I quickly bored of poking around and none of them noticed my flag so I asked a few of them if they had known Dale. One woman told me, yes, she had met him, had taken an art class with him—he’d seemed sweet, she said. I dismissed her, Dale, sweet? Okay. Whatever. The fellow dispensing the technical advice asked me who Dale was and why I was asking. So much for history, for a sense of place and time. All of a sudden I could barely talk, couldn’t say Dale’s last name, couldn’t say wind turbines, or Greenfield Ranch back in the 1970s, couldn’t talk about how it all started with Dale’s companions, I tried, they didn’t know Dale so I left. Before I left I asked about camping. I screwed up the directions, wound up in what looked like a homeless encampment, backed my van into a rock…almost stayed but for the smokers and the campfires, and the overly friendly toothless smiles…tried to find the other place, (the right place) got lost several times until there was no turning back so I drove and drove further… like the frog who churned the milk into butter I kept going, then I saw the sign for this place and wearily took a chance down a long winding road.

The dogs resting

Are we there yet?