Pictures...Finally!

These are just links to all our pictures from the trip, we finally caught up on them all! They are in order if you want to see the month's progression.

Andersen's On The Beach, WA
Lewis & Clarke Campground/North Bonneville
River Rim, OR
Skull Hollow, OR
Cold Springs, Camp Sherman, OR
Crescent, OR
Lake Lemolo, OR
Crater Lake, OR
Southern Oregon
Del Norte Redwoods, CA
Stealth Camping, Eureka, CA
Caspar Beach, Mendocino, CA

Californ-I-A

Stopped off at a roadside 30's style curio shop

I am finally in the mystical lands of California. I've had mixed feelings about getting here. While I was travelling through Central America, I found California Americans were among my least favourite people. I can't remember exactly why now, but the accent was definitely part of it. So far, no problems. The Californians actually in California don't seem so bad, but we haven't hit the cities yet. There is still time to hate...

We had a bit of a scare just after my last entry. As I was typing it, we could smell gas in the cabin. We kept thinking someone around us must have a leak. And yes, the spoiler, it was us. We finally located the problem to the fuel line leading to the generator. The end of the pipe attached to the generator was split, and we were pretty sure this was the culprit. Being a little nervous of fuel lines etc, we stopped in at a Cummins warehouse we happened upon and got their advice. They looked at it for free, which was awesome. They confirmed our diagnosis and said it was a problem we could easily do ourselves, which we did! We got a bucket, pliers, scissors and all sorts of fun tools and just snipped the end off and reattached. We were rather proud of ourselves, we seem to be learning fast!

Before making into CA, we travelled through Southern Oregon on the 101. This road takes you don't the coast and through the redwoods. It also takes you round some hair-raising bends and learned that "winding road ahead" means half an hour of beautiful hell. For the passenger, the ride is beautiful. For the driver, deodorant and someone to mop your forehead are a necessity. A quick check in your pants every now and again is warranted as well.

We were prepared for these kinds of roads though. The road around Crater Lake felt like it was designed for roller coasters. Just before we left Oregon, we stayed in another place in the passover town of O'Brien. We were going to stay in a place called Cave Junction, but upon arrival at the campsite, we decided to move along and see if we could find anywhere better. Neither of us got a good feeling from it, and the police car behind us patrolling the area wasn't necessarily comforting. When we arrived at a much more friendly place, they looked at our rig and told us it was probably small enough to make it up the hairpin bends towards the Oregon Caves National Monument. But we were told we could check our own tail-lights on the way round

the corners. It was pretty damn bendy, but it was completely worth it. We went in the cave on a guided tour, unusual for us as it costed $8.50 each. It was our guide's last day and last tour, and he was brilliant. Funny in an understated way and dealt with the guys who thought they were funny really well. The cave itself was fascinating - lots of bending and contorting around rocks. The lodge, which is a functioning hotel right outside the cave, had been decorated in tree bark and was impressive in itself. It helped that it was a rainy day and we weren't missing out on any sunny fun.

Then we were on our way to California. We saw a hitchhiker, and decided to pick him up. I wanted to get a picture of a funny sign anyway, so we pulled over and waited (pulling over a 30ft RV isn't something you can do anywhere!). He turned out to be a treehugger called Spirit. He was a cool guy on his way to Humboldt County to get some 'gardening work,' which is prolific in the area. He told us about the roads we were to
 encounter, and shared the ride through some of them with us. We came upon an accident on one of these bends. We were some of the first on the scene and were told what had happened. Trucks often cut corners off when going around these sharp bends, and a car had been coming the other way. The car got stuck under the truck's back wheels as they came at the bend from opposite directions. The guy was fine, but considering the drop that could easily have swallowed them both, they were both counting their lucky stars.

We finally got to the campsite we had chosen when they told us it was $35. This is for dry camping in the redwoods, no hookups, just a spot to park in. Fuck that. We went down the road about 15 minutes and found another little campground, completely empty (bar the camp host) for $15. We were going to do a bit of hiking, but didn't want to pay $35 for the privilege. So we made do with a walk to a nearby lake. We got the camera ready and bam! I'm not sure what the lake was called, but I dub it Lake Disappointment. There was some facility doing scientific testing, and they were taking up the only spot there was to sit. This spot was a concrete 'boat launch' amongst mud and reeds. I wish we had taken a picture, but we were so underwhelmed we just sort of, turned around and walked back. Our campsite was far more picturesque, so we just walked around that instead.

Our next port of call was to be a Walmart in a place called Eureka for a night of free camping. Of course nothing is ever that simple. That Walmart was one of the few that don't allow overnight parking because they rented the land. After much stress and umming and aahhhing, we settled on parking up in an industrial part of the town. We went out on the town and had some amazing beer from Lost Coast Brewery. My favourite was the tangerine beer, Dave's was the watermelon. Both tasted surprisingly of their namesake, which I find is rare. We went back to the RV and covered all the windows in stealth style. We were parked up next to an old railroad and a seafood factory, and were left alone the whole night. We were as clandestine as someone can be with a 30ft RV - sort of like that nimble fat guy you see from time to time weaving down the aisles of the supermarket. The experience was a lot of fun, and now we've done it once, we are a bit more confident about getting in some free roadside parking.

We headed out bright and early the next day towards the coast. We were paying a bit more for this campsite, but it was right on the beach, so we thought we'd treat ourselves. It was meant to take 3 hours. It took 5. The first half was relatively fine, mainly straight roads, dual carriageways. My hip started to ache after 3 hours, so Dave took over. The the fun began. It almost felt like the road had a vendetta. It curved and winded relentlessly. The problem with windy, hilly roads in an RV is you have to pull over to let faster vehicles pass. If you have more than 5 cars behind you and you drive past a safe pull-in, you can get a ticket. Of course stopping and starting in a vehicle this big and heavy takes it toll on everything, including the driver. This was a busy road, with 1 motorhome for every 4 cars. It would be a great road to drive in a car, if it weren't for the motorhomes. We blazed petrol, the transmission, the tracking, not to mention the
organisation in the cupboards and our good moods. But we got there, with the tail-end of our good moods still intact. But as with every trip we have made to the seaside on this trip, it was raining. We were told it was the first rain they'd had in ages - the weather had been glorious until about 2 hours before our arrival. So, we did the British thing and took a can of beer and a waterproof mat and sat on the beach.

Luckily the next day was beautiful. A storm was scheduled, but it went right past us. The coastline was akin to Cornwall. Tall, imposing bluffs and dramatic outcrops of rocks. We walked along the bluff to a lighthouse, which was surprisingly bustling with tourists. We didn't go in (you had to pay) but appreciated its epic location. We sat and watched a squirrel for quite some time - it was a California ground squirrel. The only reason I looked this up was because it was burrowing, and I've never seen a burrowing squirrel before, but low and behold, they exist. On our little walk we also saw 2 deer, a heron and multiple birds of prey!

The campsite itself was over-priced. We were crammed in with the least amount of space we've had since the trip began. We have decided to stay away from pricey places - our favourite campsites so far have been the cheapest ones. Mo money, mo problems! However, we had been on the beach since the afternoon of our last day, and decided we would have a fire and have dinner on the beach - hotdogs and left over mac n
cheese. We saw a pretty immense sunset and got the beach all to ourselves. It was a picture perfect moment.

We are now on our way to see Dave's uncle. We are camped out in a casino RV park, nice and cheap. We took a quick walk yesterday to get a feel for our surroundings. This is an Indian Reservation, and we wandered into territory we weren't welcome in. Someone came over and told us this as nicely as someone can that people in the area wouldn't appreciate our presence and to be careful. It made us feel awkward all over and we hastily made our way back to the park. We were stopped by one local native american, drunk off his box, asking if we'd seen a red car.

We decided to ease our adrenaline in the casino. I had to get someone to explain how to use the bastard slot machines. We got $20 free to gamble with as it was my birthday month. I won $33.43!!! I still have $10 left to gamble with, and I still only have a rudimentary understanding of exactly what it is I'm doing. But eh, I'm not gambling with my own money, and I'm hanging on to the money I won - I will not spend it on their beer or food, which is what most of the sorry looking cases in the casino seem to be doing.

I forgot to mention in my past blogs that we were pulled over by the police fairly early on in the trip. He just wanted to check that we weren't tired as we had done something wrong (neither of us can figure out what he said to this day). Having never been pulled over by the police, I must have looked like a wanted fugitive. I got all flustered, and I don't know why. They make me feel like I did when I was a kid and my mum used my full name. You know you've done something wrong, you just need to figure out what is was before they asked. But the copper was nice enough and let us on our way.

And the adventure continues - still not sure where we're going next, we just know we need to be at Dave's uncle's by Wednesday. Don't you just hate deadlines?

Boondocking Fun

Lava Caves

We have been motoring around a bit since my last entry, and haven't ended up staying in any one place for too long.

It was my birthday on the 8th, so we decided to splash out a bit on the place we stayed. To compensate for this, we stayed in some cheaper sites on the way over. We stayed in a campsite with no hookups (boondocking as it shall be called from now on) for $5. It was great - it was one of 6 campsites that you could still have a fire in as there is a big drought at the moment causing raging fires throughout national parks. There weren't
many people around so we could play our music without worrying we were upsetting the neighbour's chihuahua. It was our first boondock too, and apart from the fridge not working, it went great. We have come to realise that this RV is temperamental. If it doesn't feel like doing something, we don't push it. It is made by a company called Damon, which has inadvertently become the name for the vehicle. Well, more precisely, Matt Damon said with the inflection of a special needs deaf child. Anyone who has seen Family Guy may know this reference, if not, it's not the slightest bit funny, sorry. Any time we refer to the Rig, it is said with that inflection and we know it's a vehicle only a mother could love.

NOT our private creek

After Skull Hollow Campground (cool name, huh?) we made our way to Camp Sherman. We had booked an RV site that said it had its own private creek, which sounded lovely. There was also a highly recommended restaurant nearby with a menu that was screaming "eat me!" to both Dave and I. We got to the park and realised the spot was not quite as private as we thought, and our private creek had a bunch of white trash floating in it. Despite being the most expensive campsite, oh, sorry, resort, we stayed in, it had the least amount of character. It was pretty, but that was about it. We hiked a bit, which has become our new favourite pastime (because it's free!), and then went out for dinner. It wasn't everything we had hoped for unfortunately. My Dad had been kind enough to try and pay the bill for us, but he was a day too late, and I'm glad his money wasn't wasted. It may just have been the night because the menu was incredible, really well thought out with some unique ingredients. It just lacked love and attention to detail. The steak and potatoes were undercooked, the mash was undermashed. The cocktails were fantastic though! Luckily they forgot to put these on our bill, and we didn't rush to tell them of the error. My actually birthday was spent hiking and drinking, with a dinner of roast potatoes and neither of us can remember what else. So, obviously more drinking and potato consumption. We realised a couple of days into travelling that we had a combi-microwave, which pleased us no end because we can still cook in an oven. And a combi oven makes fucking amazing roast potatoes. Just saying.

Guns AND Liquor!

After this we stayed in a little RV park just off the road in a place called Crescent. The camp host told us that everything in the town shuts down at 6, so if we needed anything, make sure to get it before then. She pointed us in the direction of a liquor and ammo store and said it was a must-see. Dave had already clapped his eyes on this shop and had every intention of giving it a visit. So, we went to a local bar, had a beer, and then off to the guns and liquor shop! Walking into these shops is always a bit of a gamble. Gun enthusiasts have very little time for people who aren't serious about guns and they make no bones of giving the look of "What the hell do  you want?" Luckily, this shop was nothing like that, and they were extremely friendly. They had a great selection of liquor and an even better selection of guns. They had beautiful rifles and a very scary looking handgun that could take bullets from a shotgun. Hunting with a handgun anyone? The guy behind the counter said that he is one of two left in the country who sell guns and liquor. The other one is in Arizona, if anyone wants to have a look.


We stayed in Crescent because it was on the way to the Lava Caves, which we visited the next day. We stupidly didn't bring coats with us to the cave, and thought we would be able to handle it. Which we did. But
we dutifully complained at decent intervals the way any good English folk would. It was an impressive cave and took about 40 minutes to walk to end of. We had our lantern and a torch, neither of which provided enough light to look into the nooks and crannies, but we had fun.

We went on to Lemolo Lake, thinking we would be able to get wifi to send a bunch of emails etc, only to find out that there was not only no wifi, but no phone reception either. It was a beautiful lake which was distinctly unpopulated. We went for a swim on
our first day and waded through algae which were later told was a bit toxic. But eh, we're still alive! We hired out paddle boats the next day and took a couple of beers and a packed lunch for the paddle round the

lake. We made our way around most of it before losing steam (running out of food and beer) and decided to head home. Some very kind neighbours gave us watermelon that they couldn't get through. Being just two of us, we couldn't get through all of it either, so we made a cocktail. And you know what? A watermelon+mango+vodka=very good. I seem to be giving the impression, however, that all we do is drink. I would like to correct this. Our day may be punctuated by a well placed/timed beverage, but it is not the topic of the day. It is merely a moment where we take a break, take stock of our good fortune, and relish each other's company during a contemplative sit down.

We moved just down the road to a site with no hookups, but half the price and our actual own private beach and a view of the lake. We wanted to hike a bit more and were told about some waterfalls along a trail. We found the trail, and kept coming across little waterfalls, and the English in us thought that was it. We forget that America does everything on a grander scale, and I'm glad we continued walking until we found Lemolo Falls - just  small waterfall by American standards. When we got back we had fun feeding the most precocious chipmunks I have ever seen. We had baked some rolls that were going hard, and I had started feeding this to the little guy. When he wandered off I put the roll down and went in the RV. He came up, grabbed the whole bloody roll and managed, with great difficulty, to run off with the offending article. It had me in stitches, but to get back at him, I got a picture of him licking his balls. So there, mister chipmunk, loads of people have seen you licking your nuts! 

All of this was leading us toward Crater Lake, where we were hoping for some hookups and some internet. I've been quite excited about visiting Crater Lake, and it didn't disappoint. The roads literally skirt the rim of the crater, and I was driving. I was sweating as I could see the sheer drop with no wall and a tiny road ahead. It reminded me of the buses I took with my parents on the Greek islands. You're sure you're going to go over, and the only comforting thought is that the bus does it every day and hasn't had an accident. Or has it? We filed up behind cars to get up to overlook points and all that fun herding stuff. But we finally made it to the lodge and started searching for a parking space. The second time round I tried to squeeze in between 2

other RV's with little success. A guy comes bounding over saying he will pull forward - he was from the trailer in front. We parked up and got our hiking gear on. We were going to take one of the 'moderate' hikes, but, after talking to staff, ended up on a strenuous one. If Americans consider it strenuous, it couldn't be that bad! We saw the same guy who pulled the trailer forward for us about to start a run up the same trail. While the trail wasn't bad, it was strenuous in places, and I certainly wouldn't be able to run up it. But it was a good hike, and the 360 degree view was well worth it. We saw the same guy at the top and started talking. He was incredibly knowledgeable and really interesting, so we said we would meet up at the bottom for a drink in the lodge. We got down there and he was on his second beer. We got to chatting more and went for a drink in our RV - a bit of an I'll show you mind if you show me yours kind of deal.

In the end, we decided to get over to our camp, try and find his 55 ft total length tow, a place to camp as well. After much kerfuffle, we each got a site - not the sites we were meant to be in, but who makes a tent site big enough to fit a 55 ft tow trailer? Besides, Paul, our new friend, had balls bigger than either Dave or I, and seemed to be able to reason  out anything he wanted with officials. It's a handy talent to have, I only wish I had it! We had a great night in the end, and we just spoke and drank. It turns out he hauls trailers from one place to another, making good money on it. He just stops off on occasion for a hike or a run in beautiful areas. He spoke a lot of his son, and the term 'apple of his eye' could not be more fitting. 

Paul knew a lot about RVs and mechanics, having been an engineer in many different capacities. We raided his brain as much as we could without being annoying and learned a few good lessons from him. He really was great company, and the first friend we have made on the journey. I can only hope we come across more like him. We may even see him again. We have exchanged numbers, and if he's in the vicinity, we will hopefully meet up again. 

We are now in some campsite, somewhere. We were very hungover yesterday and wanted nothing more than to turn the AC on, sit and watch crap on a screen. Which we did, after a visit to Walmart and an annoying detour provided by our GPS. We will be heading off tomorrow once we get our affairs back in order (cleaning, bathing, emailing, oh my!).  The other major task of the day is deciding where the hell to go next. It really is a hard life.

Dave in a bear locker

Me in a log

Oregon & Deserts

We are slowly making our way through Oregon. It is a beautiful state and so far the people have been mostly friendly.

Our first scenic stop was just up the road from the park we stayed at. Crooked River Bridge is quite impressive and one of the better tended viewpoints. It's a green oasis in
the middle of the desert and the sprinklers were a welcome treat on a hot day. Dave was a miserable bastard and just took pictures of me having all the fun!

We pulled up at the RV park and surveyed our surroundings. They were quite different from our previous stop - the trees were replaced with scrub brush and mountains replaced with craggy rock and gorges. We had chosen the RV park because we have a juvenile sense of humour and River Rim RV Park sounded

funny (it turns out they own another RV Park called Big Horn...). But it turned out to be the best RV park we've stayed in yet. The owner, Dave, was an absolute legend. He had an excellent sense of humour, and treated us like he'd known us for years. He gave us a discount on our stay when we told him of our plans. I think he may have also taken pity on us and our vehicle. While we were there, the toilet blocked up. Twice. The first time took us 2 days, a toilet snake, a plunger, sceptic tank waste dissolver and boiling water to shift. It only took a day to amass another blockage, but this time we were prepared! Dave told us not to bother flushing toilet paper. We didn't listen to him the first time, figuring our issue lay in not using toilet paper specifically designed for RV toilets (yes, it does exist). After the second blockage we

heeded his advice. We still have to throw hot water down it a couple times a day, but it flows down! We figure there must be some pooey remnants stuck in the piping, and by throwing water down there, the hardened fun stuff should shift down. Dave will be waiting at the end of the pipe when this happens and we shall make some fine jewelry out of it!

The first day in the park we went down to a bar tucked into a golf course. We thought it was the only one around, and with the name Sandbagger, our juvenile senses were appealed to once again. Shame though, should have realised anywhere with a focus on golfers was going to be a bit rubbish. The staff were awful - loud and abrasive, but not in a charismatic way, more in a "I'm not pretty enough to make it on looks alone, but have fooled myself into think I am" kind of way. They spent more time joking and flirting with the older men who would tip them well for their show of breasts and attention. Fair play I guess. I certainly wasn't going to tip them for their breasts. And believe me, if they were worth it, I would have done. But anyway, we had our drink and left. We had thought that this place was just at the end of our road, but it was about a mile down the road. If we had had more than one drink, we probably would have left them a steaming present on one of the paths we weren't permitted to walk on. Lucky they were bad enough not even alcohol made us stay! On the last day, we found the Big Dog Saloon, which was much more about the locals. While we got eyed with the usual suspicion a city looking folk type gets when entering an establishment like this, they were all very friendly with each other. I got the impression the same camaraderie would have been shown to us had we attended more than once.

Everyone in the Crooked River Ranch area seemed friendly. Everyone waved to us from their vehicles, a lady from another trailer in the park had grown too many tomatoes and offered us some for free. We made salsa with them, and fresh tomato salsa is just delicious. Dave came over to us at least once a day and regaled us with stories and advice. He had led an interesting life, and we do envy his persistent happiness in everything he does. He told us the story of a meth head who went climbing down the gorge (which is a minute walk from the park) and got stuck there. So Dave (the owner) went down with a ladder to try and help him out, against the wishes of the police ("I don't listen well!") and they managed to get this idiot up after many hours of hard labour. But, you really should visit the park and get Dave and his wife to tell you the story - it's much better coming from them!

The next day we decided we were going to stay in this spot for a while, so we went into Bend to float down the Deschutes River. It was a lovely afternoon, and we brought beer with us (of course). But I was amazed that this activity was a) free and b) unsupervised. All you need is your own rubber ring (which we now have!) and the ability to block out the cold water stun which stays with you most of the way. There is a point where you get to a dam and a mini waterfall - here you have to dismount and walk around. This is why they couldn't do this unsupervised in England. Both Dave and I were tempted to hurtle down the waterfall despite all the signs saying "death" and "danger." If this had been England, you'd have found a bunch of drunken lager louts at the bottom of this little waterfall all scrabbling around trying to find the last beer.

Afterwards we took a walk around Bend, the major town through which the Deschutes flows. It's a lovely town, lots of taunting restaurants and restaurant smells everywhere. Cafes galore, bars aplenty, and a second bookshop that had Dave foaming at the mouth with its comic selection. We had intended to go back for an evening of drinking, but weren't in the mood for it when a convenient time rolled around. That's the great thing about this - we don't have to do anything we don't want!

The next day we decided to hike down to the river in the gorge that surrounded the RV site. David told us the way to get there, and told us to look out for the guy living in the cave just above the river. Well, of course we forgot his directions, but managed to feel our way to the crucial bits of the directions. It required going down an old sheep path and down a rancher's ladder. When Americans say "hike," I'm always dubious. A
hike can mean anything from a paved walk around a lake to an Everest style climb. This one was definitely more towards the untrodden kind. It was a little hair-raising at times, and there were points where my poor little legs didn't want to drop me down the precipice, but we got there. David had cleared a path to 2 beautiful waterfalls. We then went down and had our picnic lunch by the river. The beauty just around the campsite is spectacular, and we only had to hike 20 minutes to get up close to it.

We had a couple of lazy days in between these things, but I'm sure you don't want to hear about how we did the laundry, repainted the shelves in the fridge to take the rust off, or tidied up the pantry cupboard to make more space. But there's an idea for you. On a more interesting note, we visited the Painted Hills. This trip nearly cost us our sanity. The roads were gravel, and shook our RV all over the place. The fridge stopped working, the steering wheel got an almost vengeful squeak on it. But, the Painted Hills
were amazing. We
found a longer path to hike across the top of them. Of course, no one else was on it. Everyone else just 'hiked' up to the sign and then trotted back to their air-conditioned car. Unfortunately the drive home was a little fraught, and it really did seem like the steering wheel was having a little joke with us, one that it enjoyed so much that it actually got worse every time Dave complained about it. I was nearly having a breakdown trying not laugh, but Dave had not seen the funny side yet, and I don't blame him.

The next day we knew a storm was coming in, so we did more boring house type stuff and waited for the inevitable. I was looking forward to a storm - England just doesn't do them right. The clouds in the distance didn't look like they would disappoint, and when the wind whipped up in a matter of seconds, we had battened down the hatches. The storm was really impressive, somewhere else. It just teased us with wind and dark, swirling skies. We got a few heavily impregnated drops of rain and then blue filled the sky again. But watching David run across his park putting things away, still managing to stop and chat with various people along the way, made it worth it.

We have since left, celebrated my birthday (thank you to my family for my messages!) and have been in 3 different campsites, but this entry looks long enough already! If you are ever in the area on Central Oregon, stop in at River Rim RV Park. It has amazing views, it's quiet without feeling like a cemetery, and the owners are great people. They really made us feel at home, and David is the kind of guy who always has something interesting to talk about. While he does love to talk, it's nothing but a treat to listen to.

Farewell, Washington!

We have officially been on the road a week and we have already met some cool people and had some very cool experiences. We have started to upload our pictures to dropbox, so if you want to see them all (be patient as we add the backstock) then click here.

Cape Disappointment...

We left Long Beach and the rain behind and set off for North Bonneville. We first decided to stop at Cape
Disappointment, primarily due to the name, and it lived up to it. We had to pay $10 to park, so we turned around and found a spot by the side of the road to take pictures. Screw you Washington government!

Mount Hood

We went to the North Bonneville area in hopes of getting to Mount Hood, but it didn't transpire that way. Instead we found ourselves nestled along the Columbia River Gorge - an absolutely stunning area surrounded by rivers and rainforests. We found ourselves a cheap (and available as we left it a bit late to book for labor day) campsite just off the Lewis and Clark Trail. Since this was only our third ever campsite, we were rather confused when there was no front desk, no one in the office building and a sign telling us to help ourselves to a site. But I had made a reservation?! I had requested a back-in space?! We drove around and saw that they had kindly put up a reservation sign for our site, but we really had driven most of the way around the site and reversed into another spot before we saw this sign. But this spot felt much more like camping - surrounded by trees and not packed in so much like sardines. It was deathly quiet. We were afraid to talk too loud it was so quiet. The park also had a permanent trailer park attached to it, and even this was shrouded in cemetery silence. But that was to change the next day. We settled into our site on the first night and had a fire and a beer (or 2).

Beacon Rock

The next day we decided to take a hike up Beacon Rock. It was a couple miles down the main road, so we tucked ourselves over and huge lorries trundled past us. We got there and the view was amazing. The climb up was eased by little stops to appreciate the views over the Columbia River. We were lucky, we seemed to be in between two gluts of people,one going up

View from Beacon Rock

and one going down, so when we got to the top we got a whole 5 minutes of uninterrupted viewing time. We searched out some more little hikes and then continued on back to the campsite.

Since the park didn't have a shop or internet we decided to check out North Bonneville. This is an experience I shan't forget anytime soon. It turns out the town had been relocated just down the road, and whoever designed the new town layout thought they would try something new. It was most surreal. In the 'downtown' section, all the houses were set on a green with big concrete paths going between them. There were no driveways, just an area off to the side that looked like mall parking. Then we saw a sign - it was what we were looking for - cold beer. A menu was up and it was scrawled on a piece of poster paper. Another scrawled sign told us the place was called 'Sweet

Outside Sweet Ricky's

Ricky's'. We were a bit unsure as it was pointing to one of the apartments on the second floor. We went back to the campsite with the idea to build up courage for the next evening to check the place out. I got back and had a much needed shower, at the end of which I realised water was no longer going down the drain. I molt pretty badly, so I presumed my hair had blocked the drain. We tried a gentle plunged - nothing. So we went to look at the pipes underneath and noticed a joint was loose and decided to tighten it. Which of course loosened it . Water started to flood everywhere under the shower and we couldn't get the bloody pipe back on for love nor money. After a lot of panic we realised the grey tank was full, there was no blockage, and we were turning the joint the wrong way. We sopped up the water as best we could and left towels down. We had tested the grey tank by emptying water into a bin, which always sends out a little bit of the black water as well. But all of the water wasn't removed from the waste pipe, so I had to follow along behind to the dump site, carrying the waste pipe with either end up and our pooey water sloshing around in the middle of the pipe. To be fair, Dave got it all over his hands, so we were at an even score. One thing we did notice as we dumped - our shit stinks of garlic. Like, concentrated minced garlic in a jar kind of strong. Even the grey water smells that way. I'd hate to imagine the French sewage system!

That night the campsite was raucous. You know when all the hicks on South Park get drunk and start yelling 'YEAH!' and 'WOOOH!' and high fiving each other? I have now learned that this representation is just that - not an exaggeration but a merely accurate representation of a certain kind of folk. It was extremely funny to listen to, and we hoped to find the culprits passed out in the grass in the morning, clutching an empty beer can. Alas it was not to be so.

We awoke the next morning and decided to take a small walk to a nearby hot springs resort and see if there was anything to do there. On our way out we saw a few people stood around, one holding a stubby fishing pole. We went over and asked what they were doing, and, in short, they "cat fishing." I had seen some

"Cat Fishing"

kittens who had taken residence under the main building and had tried to coax them out with cheese, but these guys had a catnip mouse toy on the end of the fishing wire, trying to tease out these feral kittens. But they weren't just feral, they were smart, and managed to outwit them every time! So, on our way we went, and a small walk turned into a bit of a walk which turned into an epic walk trying to find our way back. The springs was elitist and nouveau riche tacky, so we just kept going, hoping the road would loop around. Luckily it did, but not after a few moments of self doubt. We then decided on another 'short' walk to find somewhere to

swim as it was hotter than we were used to. This took us on another hiking trail trying to find the Columbia River. We found it, after a time, and found water we could wade in after bruising our feet on rocks. All of this was done in good spirits. It was long and tiring and convoluted, but we had nowhere to be and nothing but time, and the thought of this made it all the more enjoyable. That and the incredible scenery everywhere we went.

By this point we definitely deserved a drink, so we prepped ourselves on the approach to the 'bar.' "Just look like we belong there, just look confident, and we'll be fine" "yeah, just don't be awkward." None of this prep was necessary. The bar tender, who was sat outside, greeted us in warm, slurring speech. He was about our age and had a great sense of humour about himself. He was from our trailer park, known to the locals as 'the LC.' There were tables, air hockey, some other arcade games and a karaoke set up that commenced pretty much the moment we stepped through the door at ear drum piercing volume and treble. We were offered BBQ chicken, just out on the bar on offer like chips and peanuts. And it was delicious chicken. We stayed for a couple and said we would be back for dinner and more drinks. Live

Inside Sweet Ricky's

music was just being set up and we wanted to check that out too. We came back and sat out on the porch listening to live music. We ordered a burger each, and they said it was on the house as they were left over from a do that afternoon and would only go to waste anyway. We were feeling all warm and fuzzy inside for this quirky little find. As we sat on the porch, locals came out one by one to talk to us and check us out. We must have been talk of the town, and were considered a very cute couple by all accounts. The night waxed on and we started talking to a group of lads. It was all going well until a joint was produced and passed around. Then the conversation turned to hunting. The guys got a little defensive (even though we were supporting hunting) and the conversation abruptly ended. Lesson: do not smoke a local's weed or discuss hunting. Overall, it was a very cool experience only slightly marred by the abrupt ending, and we all shook hands a wished a good farewell.

It was my turn to drive the next day, so we were out early as my stomach was churning with nervousness. Driving your home around is awesome, but also mentally taxing. If anything happens, it's not just your mode of transport, it's your home. But, I managed to navigate a small bridge, a toll booth, a town, winding roads
and the highway. Once you get used to it, it's great to drive. Better than the pontiac predecessor! So we are now in Oregon, in the high plains desert. More stuff has happened, more cool things to write about, but I'll do that another day. This is enough adventure for one entry!

Overall, still loving it. We find ourselves constantly saying to each other, "This is what it's all about!" to the point where it has become a bit of an in-joke. But in all seriousness, we are constantly reminded why what we are doing is so, well, absolutely awesome.