Homeward Bound……..
North to Reno with one night in Hawthorne enroute – at an old casino, El Capitan whose RV parking area was teeming with other homebound snowbirds. A short drive the next morning took us to Reno, a shabby and rundown city, with more resident homeless than gambling tourists. I remember when the sidewalks were full of people waiting to cram into each casino – there was raucous music and the clang of machines emanating from the open doorways and the blare of car horns from folks impatient to get parked and start playing. Now it’s a ghost of what it used to be and it’s depressing.
So we stayed at The Nugget in Sparks, three miles from downtown Reno; the downside is that the RV lot is right beside the mainline railway tracks and the tooting and the screeching kept us awake most of the night. Fernie had the surprised gratification of playing Texas Holdem at a table with a professional poker player. After three hours of play, he rated the nine players at the table and he appraised Fernie as number two. However, with discussion he discovered that all the other players were locals that played together frequently and that Fernie was the only newbie. With that, he changed his rating of Fernie to number one. He’s a moneymaker!
We were up early the next morning with the help of the trains and were on the road by 7:30am. We didn’t intend to drive such a long day but we ended up driving all the way to Seven Feathers Casino in Canyonville, Oregon – 365 miles. We had planned to phone our new Rogue River friends to see if they could meet us but we were exhausted when we got there so instead we had an early night.
Our favourite place in the world beckoned – the Sea Perch RV Park right on the Pacific Ocean 20 miles north of Florence, Oregon. I phoned and made a reservation for three days. We had been in the desert for so long, we’d forgotten how beautiful the Pacific northwest is especially after a rainy season. The drive from the freeway over to the coast by Highway 138/38 was spectacularly beautiful and 
the sporadic misty rain didn’t detract from the splendour. A mosaic of colours lined the winding road; icy green moss dripping from the barren tree branches; hanging vines of varied greens clung to tree trunks; emerald green lichens covered the areas missed by the moss and vines; the stately bottle green elegance of the tall dark evergreens towered above while masses of ferns covered the banks and the forest floor. Here and there, a dogwood would appear in full immaculate white blooms. Willows drooped their long wispy fronds over the wide deep, dark Umpqua River. The dark green river of unfathomable depths circled with duelling currents would periodically change to a gurgling, gushing mass of rapids.
Deep gorges forced our road into narrow confines and then we’d turn a corner to a scene of pastoral enchantment; hilly mounds of velvety green grass; sheep grazed serenely, their bodies sleek after shearing; horses frolicked in the cool air behind spotless white fences; dappled clouds spread across green clad hills; white clapboard farmhouses with green or red shutters made me imagine the cosiness inside beside a smouldering fire; lily pads developing after a long winter covered mirror-like ponds After driving beneath a tunnel of filmy tree branches, a bright red azalea would pop a blast of colour, causing me to gasp. I slid the window open and I could smell the pungency of the moist earth and foliage and could feel the dampness of the cool humidity on my skin. The last stretch before we reached the ocean was deep dark rain forest. The ferns and mosses covering every branch and trunk were thick and fur-like. In the last deep canyon, my GPS struggled to catch a satellite signal – we were in a nether land. Elk meadows, vast and green, offered comfortable roofed viewing areas to spy on the graceful giants. Arbutus trees, (known as madrona in the USA) their peeling bark exposing shiny red trunks started to appear – a signal that the ocean was near. I was experiencing rapture – it’s as if we’d never seen such a sight before. After four months in the arid desert, our senses were arrested by the scenery and overwhelmed.
The rain abated and the clouds thinned to display an occasional spot of blue as we arrived at the glory of the seashore. Yellow gorse dazzling like golden sunshine was in full bloom along the shore. 
The waves crashed relentlessly on the rocks and sand – a cacophony of sound. I had forgotten the smell of salty sea air and how the sea mist shrouded the horizon and crept into the shore in an instant. But the sun kept trying to force its way back through the mist.
We pulled into Sea Perch early by 11am and settled at the front just a short distance to the wild sea. Ecstasy! That first day, we didn’t do much more than watch the scene out of our huge front window, sipped wine and I caught up some blogging. A storm had blown in and our cozy nest was welcomed. The following morning, we awoke to a sparkling clear and warm day and we couldn’t wait to walk the length of the beach. Caesar behaved like a puppy dashing along the sand, through tide pools, being caught by the occasional wave. He too was happy to be back.
We prowled the coast south on a Geocaching afternoon – discovered some wonderful hideaways, learned about the flora and fauna, and drooled over some of the houses overlooking the ocean. It was Easter Sunday, and families were out on the beaches enjoying the warmth. Our last day, we organized some Geocaching in Florence, 18 miles south and ended with an early dinner at the famous ‘Mo’s’ – a seafood restaurant.
We’re ready to head home now – not that our wanderlust has lessened, but there are people we miss and home is the next stop on our rambling lifestyle.
Sun, Sand and Casinos…..
Laughlin is like Las Vegas was fifty years ago and today it seems to really appeal to the ‘golden-agers’ (hmmm, is that me we’re talking about). There are lots of 2-for-1 buffets and drinks and the River Palms gave us two free tickets to see an illusionist/magician/juggler show, which turned out to be really good – our expectations hadn’t been high but it was free……….We ended up staying there for a week. 
River Palms had allocated large RV parking spots high upon a bluff overlooking the length of the strip and the Colorado River with Bullhead City and the mountains forming a backdrop. It was a perfect place to settle in for the week. A cool breeze wafted across the high land keeping Maggie’s temperature moderate for Caesar while we fooled around. Some Geocaching, a day visiting friends in Needles, a day each for Fernie and I in bed with a stomach flu/condition (probably related to one of those 2-for-1 buffets), some poker for Fernie, a day to do laundry and RV cleaning, maintenance and dumping and before we knew it, it was time to hop on up to Las Vegas.
Our friends (L&J), who live in the Summerlin area of western Las Vegas, insisted that we park Maggie outside their house. We resisted at first not wanting to impose, but then agreed with gratitude and stayed for four nights. We plugged in to their electricity so that we could leave Caesar in the cool comfort of an air-conditioned home while we traipsed around Las Vegas. The lure of the ‘Strip’ has abated with us having visited LV every year for the last decade and so we spent much of our time in the locals’ casinos. The new Red Rock Casino and resort just a few miles from L&J is situated on the far western end of town, a stone’s throw from the Sierra Nevada Mountains and Red Rock Canyon.
We took L&J out with us one morning to introduce them to Geocaching because describing it doesn’t do it justice. They agreed to join us with amusement at this pursuit that has taken over our lives. We didn’t hunt down any adventurous caches but stuck to some urban hides. I don’t think we convinced them to become Geo-addicts like us though.
One morning, Fernie and I headed out early on our own to geocache. It took us to a long stretch of parkland, Puebla Park which winds through the suburban neighbourhoods for miles, mostly desert but interspersed with cool shady green oasis’s where we would stop to rest under a welcome tree. A geocache labelled ‘Hysterical’ made us clamber up steep rocks and we zeroed in on the coordinates. We lifted stones away to hopefully uncover the cache container. “SHRIEK!” and it wasn’t me that screeched. 
I jumped two feet off the ground but my reptile-hating partner did a hundred yard dash that was Olympic in its speed. We had uncovered the resting place of a coiled up medium sized snake…..it wasn’t moving so I first of all figured that it was dead, crushed by a rock but then realized it was a rubber snake…..I was totally ‘Hiss-terical” – couldn’t suppress the giggles as Fernie was gesturing from below and yelling “Get outa there!”.
Each day became subsequently hotter and we enjoyed the cool of their grassy palm-fringed yard and the azure pool with its gurgling waterfall - then cocktails, appy’s and dinner at a different restaurant each evening.
Wednesday morning arrived and it was time to leave and as we drove away we felt sad that we wouldn’t see them again until next year.
"Ta-i ke-mo sah-bee" ("Greetings trusty scout")……….
The Navajo Nation stretches from New Mexico all across the north of Arizona. It’s 
the largest reservation in the USA. Parts of it reminded me of the South African townsites, with the rows of tumbledown huts but here they all had high-priced pickup trucks and autos parked outside and the children were skidding along on skateboards in their expensive label clothing. There is really no comparison to life in South Africa – it’s insulting to the Africans who have absolutely nothing. I really do think that the ‘reservation system’ in North America has mostly been a failure – it hasn’t promoted education or ambition and the resulting society has degenerated.
Ominous purple-black skies were cut with sharp slashes of lightning as we headed southwest. The storms were all around us but miraculously we always just skirted them. We saw lightning hit just to the east of us and that gave us the willies; I kept my eyes peeled for tornadoes. I’m terribly afraid of them.
We stopped overnight near the Petrified Forest National Park in 
northern Arizona and visited the park the following morning. There are acres and acres of petrified wood, which is strewn around haphazardly on the arid wasteland. The millions-of-years-old logs still look like wood before they are cut up; then the most brilliant colours are unleashed. 
Large warning signs notify that it is an offence to remove anything from a National Park….. “But can’t I please have one little bit of petrified wood?” Beside the walkways, cameras were trained across the viewable area to catch those who’d dare to put a rock into their pocket. I’m afraid enough of ‘Big Brother’ to not attempt to snafu even a tiny bit and I was glad when we reached the park exit and another sign warned ‘Be prepared for your vehicle to be searched’.
As we travelled on, we heard weather broadcasts of the areas we’d left behind. Tornadoes had levelled a small town in eastern New Mexico. We had originally planned on going as far as San Antonio, Texas but thought we didn’t have enough time and that area had many tornado warnings, so we made the right decision.
We roared right up, over and through Flagstaff all at a high elevation and then west of Flagstaff, slowly descended way, way down to not that far above sea level. The temperature soared and when we reached Laughlin, it was almost 90 degrees.
It Takes a Village (Pueblo?)…..
Our visit to Bandolier National 
Park and the Pueblo Indians cliff dwellings just west of Santa Fe had left a taste for more exploration of the Anasazi civilization. Interestingly, Anasazi – meaning ‘The old ones’ is not the native’s chosen term. They prefer to be referred to as Pueblo Indians. On our quest for more knowledge of the ancient civilizations, we ventured south from Farmington, New Mexico about fifty miles and west 
for another twenty one miles on a mostly dirt road to Chaco Canyon National Monument. It was well worth the rough drive. The wide canyon had obviously once been heavily populated by an advanced and skilled civilization. It’s a puzzle why they only stayed there for a couple of hundred years 
after building such sophisticated pueblos, several stories high. The stonework was intricate and artistic and it’s amazing that the original walls still stand a thousand years later – it speaks well of the construction. Pueblo Bonita was the largest of the villages and it was well preserved but for the huge boulders that separated away from the cliffs under which the pueblo had been built. Kivas, round subterranean rooms were used for ceremonies and social gatherings. Weaving circles used these cosy rooms and other crafts were fashioned 
probably in the cold winters and hot summers. All kivas were constructed in the same fashion though they varied vastly in size. Some pueblos had many kivas. There was a firepit and ventilation shaft at one end; seats circled the room; four huge posts supported the roof and in the centre was a depression which was supposed to indicate an entry to the underworld.
Pockets of ancient ruins surround the Chaco Canyon area up past Four Corners into Colorado. ‘Four Corners’ is the only location in the USA where four states intersect – New Mexico, Arizona, Utah and Colorado. It is on Indian land and we were charged $3 each to enter and view the plaque depicting the conjunction – WHAT A BIG RIPOFF!
We visited a couple of smaller 
pueblo sites in New Mexico – in the town of Aztec and the Salmon ruins near Bloomfield and then ventured further north into Colorado to Mesa Verde National Park. A paved road curves steeply up from the highway round and round the high butte that 
marks the entry to the park and winds in for over 20 miles at an extremely high elevation. The views over the vast deep valleys took our breath away. But the ‘piece de resistance’ is at the end of the road. The cliff dwellings were built under massive overhanging rocks and the pueblos remain amazingly intact. The vistas of the many cliff pueblos were superb but just one of them was open for us to explore. Only pictures can really describe these marvellous dwellings. I climbed down a ladder into a dark kiva restored to its original condition and was able to imagine what life was like a thousand years ago.
In my younger years, history made no impact on me, but now I’ve lived well past half a century, I have a framework in which I can comprehend times past and I consider how our lives will impact future generations – at least I hope that global warming will be curtailed and not result in the possible dire circumstances. I would like to think that my ‘pueblo’ will be around to be discovered and explored.
That’s What Friends are For…….
Several weeks ago, when we were traversing the hills of Bisbee, we stopped for a coffee and tea at a little coffee bar in the centre of town to give us energy to continue our explorations. Fernie was reading a local newspaper and from behind him we heard “does it give the weather around Albuquerque?”. That’s how the conversation began and it was an hour later before it wrapped up. We immediately hit it off with this couple L&A from Rogue River, Oregon – so much that we swapped contact info. We were travelling in much the same direction so we parted with hopes that we’d cross paths again.
Just before leaving Santa Fe, I emailed them with our projected route for the next week and ‘lo and behold’ got an immediate reply. They said they’d return to Farmington, New Mexico for one night after a weekend in Durango, Colorado just 50 miles north. They recommended an RV Park, Mom and Pop’s and that’s where we met up again.
It was like meeting old friends when we pulled up – you’d never have known we’d just met. We sat outside sharing wine and beer and experiences throughout the sunny afternoon. When I checked in ‘Pop’ of Mom & Pop’s RV Park gave me a rundown of what to see and where to go around Farmington. He even suggested that if we went to Red Lobster, we could order the ‘lobster special’ for $27 and it was so huge we could share it.
“For only $13.50 each you and your hubby can have lobster” he exclaimed, peering at me over his half glasses to see if I was paying attention to his soliloquy. It made my mouth water and back at our campsite, I mentioned it to L&A – they thought it a tremendous idea and joined us for dinner at the Red Lobster. With a bottle of Chardonnay, it went down very well. I think Fernie and I were starved for some social interaction as we’d been alone for quite a while by then, so this night was definitely desirable, delectable and delicious. We parted ways the next morning – L&A heading home – but definitely plan to keep in touch.
Baskets, Turquoise and Silver, Blankets, Rugs, Pots – For Sale………
I can’t believe it, we’ve been in Santa Fe for a week – Guess it’s time to move on!
Albuquerque, 70 miles south is 1,000 feet lower in elevation than Santa Fe and decidedly hotter. It’s still cool in the evening and morning though. A proprietor in a jewellery shop in Old Town Albuquerque told us that the weather is a month ahead of itself – unseasonably hot.
I was really surprised to see a lot of flowering trees around Albuquerque – there must be an abundance of water. The muddy Rio Grande flows right through the 
middle of town and with the snow melt from the north, there was plenty of water flowing. A small city with not much of a city skyline, it’s nevertheless full of cars and the resultant smog. Hugging the western border of town is Petroglyph National Park. There are so many prehistoric rock engravings on the large volcanic stones. I find it amazing that this 1,000 year old graffiti is still visible but also wonder why their artistic skills were so childlike. I guess there were no DaVinci’s or Michaelangelo’s in the tribes. The area of the park we visited is so accessible bordering suburban tracts that some of today’s youth have added their etchings, and some of them have just taken guns and shot at them, damaging these pieces of history.
We walked miles and miles and miles along the Rio Grande on the quest for geocaches. We started early when it was cool but by noon it was getting exceedingly sweaty. We met some people walking their dogs along the Rio Grande Bosque Park trail and stopped to chat. “This weather is one month ahead of itself” said one, wiping the sweat from his brow. . I thought it was awfully hot – turned out it was in the middle 80’s. They were fascinated when we told them we came from Canada because I don’t think that anyone other than locals ever walks these trails..
Georgia on my Mind….
Ghost Ranch was the part time home of Georgia when she moved to New Mexico in her later years after her husband, Alfred Steigletz died. Fifteen miles down the road is the tiny town of Abiquiu where she had her other home, an adobe pueblo-style house high on the ridge overlooking the valley.
But Ghost Ranch was where she got most of her inspiration. 
Today it’s a conference centre and resort. An old log cabin sits near the front of the large property - I wonder who lived in it. Georgia’s house was set further back near the mountains, but perhaps she sometimes stayed in the cabin. I was mesmerized by the sight of Pedernal, the mountain that she painted in several of her pictures. I had a real sense of ‘déjà vu’ when I saw what she had seen all those years ago.
Compare the actual photos taken by me in March, 2007 to the Georgia O'keefe paintings.
Northern New Mexico is still native Indian territory and many of the reservations still have traditional pueblos that they open up to visitors at certain times. The Taos Pueblo was closed to the public while we were there, but the San Idelfonso Pueblo on the road to Abiquiu welcomed us in ------- for a fee of $5. They wanted another $10 if we wanted to take photos – not likely. Many of the pueblo women were selling pots from their homes – another source of tourist income. Things don’t seem to have changed all that much from the old days – if we took away automobiles and booze anyway.
Bandolier National Park has opened up ancient remains of pueblo Indians from 1,000 years ago, adobe brick foundation walls and amazingly intact cliff dwellings. 
In a beautiful long and narrow verdant valley, water running through it and huge trees creating shade, the Pueblo Indians once resided with a population of 1,000’s. The steep limestone cliffs were full of holes like Swiss cheese and the Indians fashioned rooms by shaping and enlarging the caves to room size. Some of the rooms / caves were accessed by ladder and it was rather like a high-rise condominium building.
We hadn’t forgotten the restaurant recommended to us by Jorden, the art consultant at Shidoni – Rancho Chimayo in the little town of Chimayo and we looked forward to some authentic New Mexican cuisine. It was in a large remodelled ranch house and it was filled with genuine artefacts. Our room looked out onto the patio where more tables were set for lunch. The food was Mexican, as we know it with a twist. I had shrimp in blue tortillas with black beans and Pico de Gallo while Fernie had a tower of tortillas, cheese, chicken, beans, lettuce, tomato, guacamole, sour cream, etc. All was extremely delicious and Fernie discovered Santa Fe pale ale, a beautiful sweetish tasting amber beer.
The pueblo of Chimayo is famous for the sighting of the Virgin Mary by a farmer many years ago. He saw a light in a field and a church was built there, the Santuario Chimayo. People go there from far away to be cured and in a small room beside the church, the wall is lined with cast-off crutches and pictures and stories of those that have been restored to health.
'Taos' means 'red willow' in the Tiwa language.
Taos, 63 miles north of Santa Fe has a totally different vibe. While it’s still an artist’s colony, it’s also a ski destination and it sits beside the famous 1,000-year-old Taos Pueblo. The residents are younger, rougher and it has a bit of a ‘hippie’ environment. It’s about 1.000 feet higher than Santa Fe at 7,900 feet elevation, so it gets more snow and is much colder in the winter. This day that we visited – March 13/07 – the snow had disappeared from town but the mountains ringing the town were still cloaked in white. As in Santa Fe, all buildings are constructed in adobe, Pueblo-style by city ordinance. So the city hall, convention centre, hotels … don’t stand out – the style remains consistent.
The author of Lady Chatterley’s Lover, DH Lawrence made Taos his home. Dennis Hopper bought a property in Taos after making “Easy Rider” some of which was shot here. He doesn’t live here any more but I can imagine while he was here, it was party central. Julia Roberts also made her home here for a while.
After 
we rambled through the obligatory “Historic Old Town Walk”, we took the 87 mile ‘Enchanted Circle’ drive, north out of Taos, up and through the high mountains and alpine meadows, past ski resorts where skiers shushed down the slopes in shirt sleeves – it was over 70 degrees F.
Our favourite place in the world beckoned – the Sea Perch RV Park right on the Pacific Ocean 20 miles north of Florence, Oregon. I phoned and made a reservation for three days. We had been in the desert for so long, we’d forgotten how beautiful the Pacific northwest is especially after a rainy season. The drive from the freeway over to the coast by Highway 138/38 was spectacularly beautiful and 
the sporadic misty rain didn’t detract from the splendour. A mosaic of colours lined the winding road; icy green moss dripping from the barren tree branches; hanging vines of varied greens clung to tree trunks; emerald green lichens covered the areas missed by the moss and vines; the stately bottle green elegance of the tall dark evergreens towered above while masses of ferns covered the banks and the forest floor. Here and there, a dogwood would appear in full immaculate white blooms. Willows drooped their long wispy fronds over the wide deep, dark Umpqua River. The dark green river of unfathomable depths circled with duelling currents would periodically change to a gurgling, gushing mass of rapids. 
The waves crashed relentlessly on the rocks and sand – a cacophony of sound. I had forgotten the smell of salty sea air and how the sea mist shrouded the horizon and crept into the shore in an instant. But the sun kept trying to force its way back through the mist.
