After
arriving here in Austin, I began my task of fitting in with the locals by
looking for a home. I knew what I wanted – A smallish home in the Hill Country,
preferably secluded and quiet. And I hoped to find this in or near the town of
Dripping Springs. This small town (with a population of 1,548) is about 15
miles west of Austin. I had found Texans to be very friendly overall. For some
reason, I found the folks in Dripping Springs to be even more friendly. I had a
good feeling about this place.
I
plan to rent for a bit before making any home-buying decisions. The uncertain
market, and being jobless at the moment were factors in this decision. So I
picked up the Sunday paper and perused the rental section, hoping something
close to what I was looking for might be available. It was not. At least not in
my price range.
So
I started phase two. I went to Dripping Springs and visited the Post Office,
and every store in town. This did not take very long. For several days I looked
for bulletin boards with local ads put up by the folks who live in Dripping
Springs. I also chatted with locals everywhere I went and slipped into the
conversation a question about whether they knew of any places for rent in the
area. I got a few leads, but nothing that clicked.
Lo
and behold, a couple days later there amid the postings for garage sales and
missing puppies was an ad for a 2 bedroom house on a 10 acre ranch west of
Dripping Springs. I yanked out the cell phone and speed dialed the number.
It
wasn’t until the next day that I was able to see the place. Amazingly, it was exactly
what I was looking for! A nice little house with a couple of outbuildings on
ten acres of beautiful Hill Country land. One of the finest features is the
front porch. It faces north and is screened on three sides and has a floor made
of stone taken from the property itself. This porch will be a most wonderful
place to be on warm or hot evenings!
The
house is two stories, laid out nicely. Right in front of the house are two very
large and mature live oak trees that provide a nice shade. From the house you
cannot see any other houses, just Hill Country. I think this is the place!
It
is far enough out in the boonies that it is very quiet. Quiet enough
that I can hear myself think. It is also far enough from the lights of Austin
that the sky at night is absolutely magnificent!
I
spent a couple nights in the empty house before arranging to fly up to Seattle
to move my stuff down here. Even with the house being empty, it was a great
feeling to begin to put roots down after my long journey. I moved in on the 100th
day of my summer trip. Although I could easily leave right now for another 100
days, it feels good to have a place other than the camper to call home. Now I
just needed to go to Seattle to bring down my belongings!
Flying
up to Seattle was an interesting experience. It was 2 weeks after the tragedies
in New York and Washington, so security was pretty tight. I did not mind at all
the delays and close scrutiny of everything I brought. At the Austin airport
they did indeed search my luggage. Thoroughly. Out of curiosity I asked the
nice lady doing the search if my "dirtbag" appearance set off the
"search" flag. She made it clear that they were searching everyone's
luggage as long as the lines weren't too long.
Going
through the metal detector was also interesting. They have the detectors set at
a very sensitive level. I have done a fair amount of flying, so I know to empty
everything before going through. I still set off the alarm. After going through
the magic wand frisking, they had me take off my biker boots and put them
through the machine, while walking through in stocking feet. That did the
trick, fortunately, since if I had to remove any more clothing it might get a
bit risqué.
I
noticed they had police out on the tarmac continuously stopping all the
vehicles and spending a few minutes going over ID's and what not. Like I said,
security was pretty tight.
The
mood of the other passengers was pretty upbeat, considering the circumstances.
A few folks were obviously nervous, perhaps a few more than normal. The flight
crews were extremely professional and paid attention to details more than
usual. I think the passengers appreciated this.
I
arrived in Seattle unscathed and tired, since I had to fly from Austin to LA,
then to Oakland, then to Seattle. I spent the next few days meeting with good
friends. These get-togethers were both wonderful and sad. It was so very good
to see the fine folks I know up in Seattle, yet I also was saying goodbye to them.
It was most difficult at times.
I
had a few meals of chicken teriaki, which were absolutely delicious. Boy, I’ll
sure miss that! And the potato pancakes at the Pancake Corral are still the
best in the world. The company there was the best also! I spent a fair amount
of time scurrying around getting my ducks in a row for loading the rental truck
and leaving for Austin bearing all my household goods.
Here's
an interesting anecdote about rental trucks. I had eliminated U-Haul as a
possibility. I've had too many bad experiences with them. Ryder was a
possibility, but Penske has the newest fleet of trucks. Penske guarantees a
truck no older than three years. They are a little more expensive, but when I
picture myself broken down on the side of the highway in some godforsaken area
of Utah (or wherever), the extra cost seems trivial.
When
I called Penske, I discovered their rates had gone up significantly since I
called them in June. From around $1,100 to $1,699! Wow! I called Ryder and they
had gone up also, but came in around $1,200. So here's what I did. I called
Penske and very politely told the operator that I really wanted
to work with Penske since they were such a great company, and so on and so
forth. I asked if they could work with me on getting down near the price Ryder
quoted me. I struck out.
So
I called back again and got a different operator. I tried the same tactic,
polite and supportive. I struck out again. I kept doing this, keeping track so
I wouldn't try it on the same operator. After 8 calls, I got an operator who
must have fallen for my charm, and she got me down to $1,250. How sweet it is!
Saturday
morning found me picking up the truck and working on getting it loaded. The
choice of Penske paid off, since I was given a model year 2001 truck with only
13,000 miles on it! I got the truck loaded with the assistance of my wonderful
friends Tom and Elthea. Later on another most special friend, Dean, helped me
transfer various vehicles and what not.
Finally,
I was ready to depart. As I left Seattle, I immediately realized that traveling
to Austin in the rental truck was a far cry from traveling in the Six Ton
Suitcase. Where are all my creature comforts? No CD player! No cruise control!
No camper in the back with the refrigerator and everything else! And there
would be no bike in a trailer to relieve the road-weary nerves at the end of a
day's driving.
Speaking
of the bike, this trip to Seattle and back to Austin is a very long time to be
away from the bike. I would whine about it but I know it will do no earthly
good. So I’ll just pout occasionally.
Probably
the biggest concession was that at the end of each day I would need to stay in
motels, rather than my camper. I've never been a big fan of motels, but again I
hoped to make the most of this enforced overnight accommodations.
A
lot of folks I talked with in Seattle heard about the upcoming 2,400 mile trip
in a rental truck and groaned in sympathy with my ordeal. I didn't bother
trying to convince them that I did not consider it an ordeal.
I
like road traveling anytime and anywhere. So I assessed the rental truck
situation and made it as comfortable as humanly possible. Getting decent coffee
would prove to be an unrelenting and unsuccessful challenge after the first
day, but I made do.
I had
planned my itinerary to go in the most direct route but to avoid steep mountain
grades. So I headed east on I-90 and went over the marvelous Cascade Mountains
through Snoqualmie Pass. This is a road I have traveled so often that I knew
every bump and curve. At Ellensburg I turned off the interstate to travel south
through Yakima Canyon. Of the many places I have camped in the great Northwest,
Yakima Canyon was my destination more often by a huge factor. It is a most
wonderful place, and as I drove by in the rental truck, I said goodbye to this
area I loved so much.
I
hooked up with I-82 in Yakima and continued east following the winding Yakima
River valley. I stayed overnight in the Tri-cities in the city of
Kennewick At a motel. Oh well…
The
next morning was bright and sunny as I headed southeast towards the
Washington/Oregon border at Umatilla. I hooked up with I-84 and traveled
southeast into Pendleton, Oregon. There I gassed up for the first time, holding
my breath to see what kind of gas mileage this beast of a truck would get. 7
miles per gallon. Well, it could be worse, I guess.
East
of Pendleton the highway goes up a fairly steep grade for 10 miles ascending
into the Blue Mountains. The climb made the truck scream along in low gear, but
it was well worth it to get up into the mountains. The Blue Mountains of Oregon
are a biker’s paradise. You can wind through wonderful back roads with little
traffic and appreciate the piney woods and stunning vistas. Both the back roads
and the highway lead eventually to La Grande, where there is an annual biker’s
rally that is held in response to the Pendleton Rodeo. I went a few years ago
and had a blast.
Heading
southeast from La Grande, I-84 runs through the hilly plateau of northeastern
Oregon, a most beautiful area. It loosely follows the Oregon Trail, and there
are many historic markers detailing interesting facts about the folks who used
it or incidents that happened along it. You pass through or around Baker City
and through the Walt Whitman National Forest, which is a very pretty area.
Eventually you pass Ontario and then you’re into Idaho.
If
you’re so inclined and are not driving a big ole rental truck, you can head
north at this point and visit Hell’s Canyon. It is very spectacular, and
probably best seen in one of those jet boats that roar through it daily. I
continued southeast.
Southern
Idaho seems schizophrenic to me. Parts of it are breathtakingly beautiful,
while other areas are mind-numbingly boring.
As
I got closer to Boise, I got more serious about fiddling with the radio, since
I was passing through a very boring area. I was pleased that I could find an
NPR station from a university in Boise. But as anyone who has traveled a good
distance with only a radio can remember, the pleasure of a good station is
fleeting. Within an hour, more or less, you are out of range of the good
station and searching for a new one.
My
observation, confirmed by this trip, is that when you’re more than 50 – 75
miles from a city, the last types of radio stations that serve the real boonies
are Hispanic Stations (they play excellent music along with incomprehensible
talk if like me you don’t speak Spanish), County Music Stations (they vary –
some are good and some give me a toothache) and Religious Stations (not my cup
of tea – I’d prefer to meditate in silence). When you are at the extreme edges
of the boonies, the last stations remaining are the Religious Stations. I guess
you can say that in the end, God wins.
Boise
has finished the loop around the city, so passing it was no big chore. As you
head Southeast towards Mountain Home and Twin Falls, to the north and out of
sight is the Sawtooth Mountain Range. There are some wonderful roads that go up
through this area, and you’ll find a whole lot of great campgrounds, including
some very primitive and scenically rich camps and parks.
I
stopped for the night in Twin Falls, and went for a nice walk in the evening,
enjoying the warm weather and a fine sunset. A little later, the full moon came
up. It was quite spectacular, burnished gold as it came up, then bright white
and stunningly huge. It got cold that night, though, proving that autumn is
coming fast. It was 37 degrees in the morning, and as I waited impatiently for
the truck to warm up I watched the sunrise.
Food
is another challenge when traveling in the rental truck, rather than the Six
Ton Suitcase. I have it down to a science in the rig. But in the rental truck,
I am at the mercy of the highway eateries. You have two basic choices: Fast
food or local/chain restaurants where you get better food but need to devote
more time to a sit-down meal. I varied between the two depending on my mood. My
diet suffered. And the last decent cup of coffee I had was back in Pendleton.
Out in the vast stretches of America, Espresso is still considered a quaint
habit of the folks on either coast. The places in the heartland mostly serve
mud. So I drank mud. Sparingly.
Shortly
after Twin Falls I-84 cuts down into Utah. This stretch of road is one of the
more bleak and boring you’ll find. And there are a number of signs warning of
the high likelihood of blowing dust storms. I didn’t encounter any on this
trip, though I have before.
In
northern Utah, you travel further south passing Brigham City, finally seeing
the Great Salt Lake as you enter Ogden. The percentage of Religious radio
stations went up dramatically. I stayed on I-84 heading east and jumped off
onto I-80. The scenery got a whole lot more interesting here. You drive up
through canyons that take your breath away, following some small rivers and
seeing sandstone cliffs on either side of the road.
Yet
the climb is not terribly steep. This is why I chose this route. Though you go
over the Rockies, you do it in a civilized fashion. Once you have ascended out
of Utah, you enter Wyoming and drive across the Great Divide Basin. This is an
area of the Rocky Mountain Range that does not go up and down over a long
series of mountain grades. So it is much more suited to a rental truck. Some of
the areas are spectacular!
The
area around Green River and Rock Springs are truly awesome. Then you go through
a relatively boring stretch of range land, with large herds of cattle and
bison. As you go somewhat down-slope in Rawlins, the scenery once again gets
more diverse and interesting. The highway between Rawlins and Laramie is on the
outskirts of the Medicine Bow National Forest. This is an area I’d like to come
back and explore in the Six Ton Suitcase.
I
stayed overnight in Laramie. It got cold again overnight. But the weather was
still dry, fortunately. This time of year it is not unusual to encounter snow
in Wyoming, Colorado or New Mexico, so I was pleased with the sunny skies.
I
left Laramie and headed towards Cheyenne, once again picking up an NPR station.
There I hooked onto I-25 for the long drive south. Entering Colorado I passed
through more rangeland until the outskirts of Fort Collins. From there
southwards, you go through a long series of suburb cities serving Denver, the
megalopolis of Colorado. During most of the 300 mile drive south through
Colorado, the spectacular Rocky Mountains are on your right and the high plains
of the beginning of what used to be the great American grasslands are on your
left. Despite the encroachment of countless urban cities along the way, it is a
most beautiful drive.
After
making it through Denver, I continued south into Colorado Springs, where I
spent a year while serving my hitch in the Army at Fort Carson. I took a little
time to meander through Colorado Springs, trying to find some of the places I
frequented and lived in while I was there. It had been too long. About 30 years
will change some places, and Colorado Springs had grown aplenty. I saw little
that I recognized, though trying to do so in a big ole rental truck is not the
ideal way to do it. The bike would have been better.
I
got back on I-25 and headed south through Pueblo, tempted to take another side
trip up to the Royal Gorge. The way the rental truck handled convinced me to
postpone that trip. I continued south, seeing the Sangre De Cristo Mountains in
the distance as the Rocky Mountains tapered out.
The
truck and I passed through Walsenburg and finally Trinidad where I stopped for
a fine lunch at a local restaurant serving some excellent Mexican food. The
family doing the cooking and serving were most hospitable, despite the fact
that I was the only gringo in the place and I spoke no Spanish and they very
little English. With a bit of pointing and guessing, I got served a great meal,
although the salsa was WAY too hot for me.
South
of Trinidad, the highway climbs up to Raton Pass at 7,800 feet. The climb up
and down the other side was the high point of the drive that day. Pine-studded
hills crowd close to the road and the scent of them is dizzying. After cresting
the pass, you enter New Mexico and are treated to a splendid view of the high
plateau of the northern portion of this fine state.
The
drive south is very pretty, making up for the lack of any decent radio
stations. I drove in silence, appreciating the lush desert scenery. You slowly
descend as you head south, eventually getting down to about a mile-high. You
pass through little towns like Wagon Mound, where I gassed up the truck.
At
the town of Las Vegas, New Mexico, I took another fork in the road. I wanted to
hook up with I-40 east bound. I could continue on I-25 down through Sante Fe
then all the way to Albuquerque, then double back on I-40. This would be about
a 150 mile jaunt. Or, I could take SR 84, which would get me to I-40 in a mere
35 miles. But I had no idea whether this road was “rental truck friendly”.
I
took the short cut. And not only was it conducive to driving a 40 foot truck,
it was a very pretty drive. And there was very little traffic to divert my
attention from the scenery. The rolling hills were covered with bunchgrass and
large collections (groves?) of prickly pear cactus. A very nice drive, indeed!
Hitting
I-40, I headed east through Santa Rosa and Tucumcari. The scenery wasn’t
particularly interesting, but it was a nice afternoon, and there was a
preponderance of Hispanic radio stations playing wonderful music. I was
enjoying myself!
I
consulted the map and decided to push on to Amarillo. Not because there was so
many things to see and do there (as Elthea would affirm), but because I was tiring
of staying In motels and wanted to get home. I knew it would be an easy drive
from Amarillo to Austin the next day, so I pushed onwards.
Seeing
Amarillo again in the early evening, I confirmed my memory of this city. While
it is bustling with activity, it does not seem to have the right soul for me.
And it gets nasty cold in the winter! I found a decent motel and relaxed for
the evening.
I
headed south on I-87 the next day, arriving in Lubbock by mid-morning. It was a
spectacular Texas morning, bright and sunny and in the high 70’s by 10:00. I
continued south which took me through the flat, treeless north Texas plains
through Lamesa, Big Spring and eventually San Angelo.
South
of there, the terrain very gradually started changing. It became slightly more
hilly, and there were more shrubs and eventually live oak trees. I could smell
the Hill Country! I was nearing home. At the small town of Brady, SR 87 heads
southwards and I saw the first Hill Country Trail sign. Ah, what a welcome
sight.
I
made it into Fredricksburg, which meant I was close to my destination. I headed
east on SR 290, seeing sights I’d last seen on the bike a couple weeks ago. I
got to Johnson City and stopped to pick up some provisions. Then I drove the 15
miles to my home.
It
was a wonderful sight to see everything as I’d left it. The bike was safe and
sound, locked up securely in the trailer and the camper had survived my
absence, as had the house and property. It was good to be home!
The
next few days consisted of moving in. I emptied the truck with the assistance
of some bikers from Dripping Springs. Before I’d left we had gone a nice little
ride, and when they heard I would be arriving with a full truck and an empty
house, they insisted on coming by to help. I was most grateful for their strong
backs, but they brushed off my thanks saying it was the neighborly thing to do.
For
the next few days, my world was boxes. Some were still full, and some had
disgorged their contents all over the place. It seemed to go slowly, yet I plugged
away and my household began to take shape.
As
I sat in my chair on the screened-in front porch on the second evening, I was
enjoying the utter quiet of the ranch. Suddenly a noise came to my ears that
brought the feeling of being “home” directly to my senses. It was the
refrigerator, of all things. It is a very mundane sound, yet it was the sound
of my fridge. It was the sound of my home. Hearing it gave me a
contented feeling of peace.
Being
here in Texas Hill Country does take some getting used to. There are species of
birds that do not exist in the Pacific Northwest. Included among these are the
Turkey Vultures, known commonly as buzzards. These birds soar majestically
through the skies with as much grace and style as bald eagles. And there are a lot
of them! It is quite a sight to see as they use the thermals and breezes in
their daily journeys. Of course, their beauty is somewhat offset by their diet,
which consists of dead things that make you hold your breath as you drive by.
Maybe that’s why they aren’t really able to give the bald eagle much
competition for being our national bird. They are beautiful from a distance,
but truly butt ugly up close. And they probably have hideously bad breath.
The
road runners are really fun to see. They look exactly like the cartoon
character! As they race across the road or field, the top of their body, from
head to foot, is a straight line. Hilarious! And there is another bird, perhaps
a mocking bird or magpie, that possesses a very loud call, and seems to imitate
other bird calls. In fact, I believe they imitate other noises of all sorts. I
was sitting in a park in Dripping Springs, when I heard a cell phone go off
nearby. But there was nobody nearby! Only one of these birds. It made that
sound again sounding remarkably like a cell phone. I can only assume that it
heard one long enough to learn to imitate it. No one “answered the bird”.
The insects are a whole other matter. Having
spent so much time outdoors in the Pacific Northwest, I pretty much knew all
the species, including the few that might pose either danger or discomfort.
Here in Texas, there is a bewildering variety of strange looking insects. And
at the moment, I have no idea which ones are innocuous and which could do me
bodily harm. Until I find out, I am wary of them all!
I
have spent a few days doing the mundane things as well. It is amazing how
tedious and time-consuming it is to get plates for the vehicles, get a driver’s
license, insurance, etc. But I make slow progress along with getting serious
about the job search. That goes slow, but I am patient. I’ve talked with a few
recruiters who are saying there is nothing happening in Austin. When I point
out that this is not supported by the want ads, they shake their heads sadly.
These kind of folks I don’t need. I have found a couple others who have a much
more positive outlook, and am working with them to try and find a company that
would be a good fit for me.
So
now that I am back in Austin, and am starting the process of getting settled in
my new hometown, I am reflecting on the 3-month trip that led me here.
This
is an intriguingly diverse and stunningly beautiful country we live in.
I
traveled through 41 states. Many I saw thoroughly, some I saw fairly well, and
some I saw just a bit of. I missed California, Nevada and Montana, all of which
I have traveled extensively through before. I missed Indiana, Illinois and
Kentucky, states I have been through before and wish to see again sometime. I
missed Oklahoma.. Alaska and Hawaii don't really count in this summation.
One
gauge of the scope of this journey is my road atlas. It was brand spanking new
at the start of the trip. Now the vast majority of the pages are dog-eared,
stained with coffee, and marked up with notes scrawled in my incomprehensible
handwriting. It has become a grizzled veteran, documenting the crossing and
re-crossing of America by this wayward traveler.
I
traveled 13,000 miles in the camper. I traveled 15,000 miles on the bike. A
pretty good balance, I think.
Actually,
Over the last six months I have done quite a bit of traveling:
3,000
miles in the camper
1,500
miles on the bike
2,000
air miles
13,000
miles in the camper
15,000
miles on the bike
3,000
air miles (Austin – LA – Seattle)
2,500
miles in the rental truck back to Austin
That’s
a total of 40,000 miles in six months!
The
Six Ton Suitcase performed the entire trip without a single problem. I am so
grateful to the manufacturers of the truck, camper, trailer, and of course the
Harley. The fine machinery allowed me a trouble-free journey.
Of
course, this is in part due to having taken the care before I left to make
certain that everything was ready for the journey. Remember the Five P's: Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance!
I
also did the prudent thing and had preventative maintenance done on the truck
and bike during the trip, even though this was a mild hassle to do this in
strange cities. It was well worth the hassle.
Oh,
I did forget one equipment problem. An interior camper light burned out way
back in South Dakota. I had a spare bulb (of course!), so it was a problem for
about all of about 30 seconds.
I
met a lot of extraordinary and wonderful people during my travels. With
extremely rare exceptions, the folks I met were friendly, helpful, informative,
and went out of their way to show this stranger from Seattle that the vast
majority of people in this country are most wonderful.
I
believe it speaks volumes about the hearts of Americans that such friendship is
offered to complete strangers from faraway places. I have not a single doubt
that had I chatted with these wonderful folks long enough, differences of
opinion would come to light. This is why I studiously avoided two topics -
Politics and Religion. There is little
point is seeking out areas where I know for certain that fundamental and
irreconcilable differences will be exposed.
Baseball
is the closest I came to treading on controversial subjects. And since I had
the Mariners in my hip pocket, I was dealing from a position of strength! In
general, the baseball fans out in this wide country are grudgingly dazzled by
the Mariner's incredible season.
So
I found that most Americans are pleased to put aside differences and celebrate
the good things that make life in this country so wonderful.
Throughout
the summer, the weather cooperated most wonderfully. This was in part due to
luck and the season. However, I intervened daily on this matter by studiously
watching developing weather patterns on the Weather Channel. This allowed me to
adjust my journey's path to "go with the flow" of the weather
patterns that surrounded me. And allowed me to remain by and large in sunny,
dry weather.
If
you’ve read most or all of the narratives of this trip, you’ll realize that
there is a vast variety of things to see in this wonderful country. If you ever
get the chance, go see it! I guarantee you will come back home with memories
that will last you a lifetime. I know I have.
Until
the next time, adios!