CLAFC – Creativity, Learning, Adventure, Freedom & Cessation

We spent the last couple of days at our campsite in the Sonoran desert doing some hikes, enjoying the birds and coyotes, and trying to stay warm over night. This desert definitely is growing on me. It’s starting to almost feel lush, if that can be said about a desert. The saguaros are big and green and almost human-like. And despite the fact that everything wants to stab you and poke you and grab you, I will miss leaving this place.

 

   

We finally did pack up our bags and bikes and headed into the big city to meet Laird and his family. Astonishingly, it’s been about 20 years since I last saw Laird. We have stayed in touch via email over the years, but I was a bit nervous as to how we would mesh after all this time. I needn’t have worried. From the first moment it felt like old times; hanging out together, yakin’ away, telling old stories, learning what each have been up to, and just feeling the warmth of an old friend. I think Ann and Shannon were amused (or bemused), and his kids Emmeline and Annabel were equal parts impressed and appalled at some of our childhood antics.

Laird was the consummate tour guide, taking us to the final standing ICBM (that’s InterContinental Ballistic Missile) site in the world just outside of Tucson. The Titan Missile Museum turned out to be an amazing romp through OUR history. The site is a testament to the insanity, and deadly logic, of MAD: Mutual Assured Destruction, which defined the tightrope stability of the Cold War.

But the museum is definitely what us hip people would call “Cool!” We got the full tour, from how crews entered the silo site, and then the underground infrastructure, all the way to how to receive and launch the missile. The whole site is protected from a near-blast, and is geophysically isolated from the surrounding area. All this is to ensure that if those evil Soviets should launch a first-strike, that “we” could still devastate the other half of the planet. The tour was impressive from a technological and logistical sense, and there was the occasional joke tossed in, but I kept returning to the idea that we were sitting at ground-zero of global destruction. Cool … and deeply disturbing.

 

On the way home from the Missile Museum we were feeling a bit peckish from all that global destruction contemplation, so Laird took us on a slight detour to the Mission San Xavier del Bac, which is a Christian church built (or started) in 1864 for the Native population of the area. The cathedral’s interior is all hand-carved and hand-painted. It’s beautifully grotesque and stunningly ornate without any European pretence.

They also sold some pretty tasty Native fry bread 😉

The following day Annabel decided that Ann, me, and Laird were going to visit the Desert Museum just outside of town. I’d already pooh-pooed the idea earlier, but Annabel is not to be ignored or dissuaded. So we all piled into the car and headed off to the desert. The museum turned out to be an absolutely stunning attraction; a mix of zoo, wildlife habitat and natural science museum. It was great! So thanks Annabel!

From the mountain lion that was trying to eat the two toddlers, and the ferocious hummingbird enclosure, all the way to the snakes, spiders and bat cave, it was just great. The afternoon culminated with a raptor show which saw trained birds swooping and hunting right over top of the gathered crowds. The Harris’ hawks in particular were truly amazing, hunting in packs as they do. 

Our final day was spent relaxing, doing laundry, listening to poetry-by-Emmeline, and trying to be helpful around the house. A final dinner of curry and fine wine, and it was over … all too soon. We packed our bikes, said our goodbyes, and headed off again.

We’re aiming to camp for the next few days at a cheap/free site right on the border of Arizona and New Mexico. To get there though we first drove through Tombstone — yes, THAT Tombstone. We had to stop, and were greeted with what you’d expect from a goofy tourist trap. But it was still kinda neat. We had lunch at Big Nose Kate’s Saloon, and then headed off to the little mountain town of Bisbee.

Shannon had highly recommended we stop, and she was right. The place is a former mining town turned artsy community. The shops are quaint and interesting, and the whole town is neat to wonder around in. We drove through, and stopped in front of this old Inn attached to a saloon. Without much hope we inquired about the rates, and they weren’t crazy, so we said the heck with the budget, and checked in.

That night there was live music in the saloon, and copious amounts of good local beer. Three pints in I was wondering why the world kept spinning … only then did the bartender tell me it was actually a DOUBLE-IPA, which basically means it has twice the booze. Ann suffered a whee bit that night, but has lived to tell the tale.

   

After a great breakfast we packed up with plans to camp for the next few days. There is snow up at this elevation right now, but the forecast looks acceptable. Hopefully the cold means only crazy people will be tenting, which is good b/c the campsite only has a few places. We’ll see how it goes…

 

We arrived safe and sound back to our desert friends in Black  Canyon City. Cheryl & Pat have been incredibly kind to us, playing host three times now. It sure has been a joy spending all this time with them … OK, mostly it was for Harper (their cute little dog) 😉

Our days at BCC, deep in the heart of the dry Sonoran Desert, were  anything but dry. Just like our luck with the Canadian dollar (which continues its lemming dance off the cliff), our luck with  weather has been equally dismal. Our whole journey has been colder and wetter than seasonal norms, so it’s no surprise the Sonoran was getting some pretty hard rains during our visit. Washes were actually washing, roads were closed,  and we were house-bound for days.

Luckily out hosts had the cure for what ailed us: beer … a solution Ann took to heart when we visited a local tavern. The place had great food, even better beer. As is common for many businesses around here, they are civilized  enough to ask that you leave your guns at the door. For some reason they think copious amounts of booze and firearms aren’t a good idea?!?

After one more night at BCC, that included a killer game of crokinole (Ann and Cheryl lost, and I pretty much just watched as my partner Pat won the game for us), we packed up and said goodbye.

Actually, we almost didn’t get out of there b/c Ann discovered her bike battery had been drained over the two-weeks+ that we’d been in Alberta. Turns out an LED does use power. Pat came to our rescue by tracking down a charger, and luckily the battery came back  to life after a few hours.

We packed up and headed on our way south, aiming for Tucson. B/C of the late start we only made it 1/2 way, stopping in a small town and yet another cheap motel.

Our plans are to stay in Tucson through the rest of the week so we can get our bikes serviced, and then visit with my oldest friend Laird. The servicing went great. Scoot Over is a shop that specializes in all things scooter. They knew both our bikes intimately, and were duly impressed with our journey so far. Unfortunately we both needed new rear tires (my second one of this journey), but other than that the bikes appear to be in good shape.

Our campground is a 1/2 hour out of Tucson, on the other side of the smallish Tucson  Mountain range. The drive over was a bit reminiscent of some of the gnarly roads of California, so lots of fun. The campground we’re in has five dedicated tent sites (and probably 100+ RV spots). Our home for the five days was on the edge of a wash (very dry now), overlooking a cacti forest of saguaro and numerous other prickly plants.

BTW Monique, Ann loves her pink tiera:

We arrived in Calgary to warm hugs and warm coats from Donna. It was a bit of climate shock to go from
warm desert to freakin’ cold Canadian winter, but at least it looks like christmas. We spent the next few days preparing for the holidays, and trying to be helpful to Sam and Donna. OK, mostly I tried to stay out of the way, but it was great to be back with family.

In addition to babysitting Ann and I, and welcoming their youngest daughter back home for the holidays from Vancouver, Donna & Sam were also charged with looking after their grandchild: Walden, or Wally for short. Wally is a Nova Scotian tolling retriever, a rather high-strung, cute, fun and incredibly intelligent breed of dog. Wally’s mom (Monique) and dad (Chris) went off to BC to spend x-mas with Chris’ parents, so the gramps were asked to babysit. We all got to share in Wally’s exuberance and enthusiasm over the following week.

The big day came, and despite the clear message: NO PRESENTS, Jolly old St. Nick still visited us with a stocking full of goodies. In addition, Momma O’Reilly and sis Kathy surprised everyone with a mail-order basket of goodies. Very yummy. Thanks guys!

Peggy and her gang of wee little ones 😉 all came over for the big dinner, with everyone pitching in. OK, I didn’t really do much, but I was happy to help with the eating part. It was really wonderful to be with family, and to re-connect with everyone.

The next days were spent relaxing, getting some work done (I had a magazine article to write), exercising on the tread mill and stepper (OK, only Ann did that), and just hanging out with everyone. Ann also found a fun way to stay in shape by hiding under the kitchen table while wearing her funky and shiny exercise shorts.

The holiday season is special here, not just for a deity’s birth, but more importantly b/c both Natasha and Sam AND my sister Kathy were all born on Dec. 27th. And just this year there was an additional birthday added to this illustrious date: Phil’s new grandson, Theodore was born. So Ann and I got to celebrate two birthdays during our visit. This meant going out to some pretty fancy and yummy restaurants in town. We were forced to eat amazing food and great wine with fun people — it’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it 😉

The holidays are also a time to feel the pull of the Light Side, and sometimes the Dark … OK, cheesey way of saying we went to see the new Star Wars movie. It was a great romp. Lots of fun. And the 3D was pretty amazing. The next day we ended up at a pub to sample more good beer, good food, and good times.

 

New years’s eve we drove down to our cabin on Beauvais Lake … OK, technically it’s Donna & Sam’s cabin, but after spending much of September living there, arriving there felt like coming home. We were joined by Peggy and Phil, and later in the evening by cousins Kevin and Barb. The drive down was a bit snowy and blustery, but we all arrived safe and sound.

We rang in the new year with a cut-throat game of crokinole. After a round-robin and Page playoff the teams of Ann-Mike & Peggy-Phil brought up the rear while the teams of Barb-Kevin & Donna/Knuckles-Sam played for top honours. The results speak for themselves:

 

New Year’s Day was spent staying warm and writing (Mike), ice fishing (Sam) and skiing (Donna & Ann). Ann, who hasn’t been on skis for over a year, so naturally she decided to try downhilling with her cross-country skis. A visit to the Emergency was avoided … just barely.

We spent the last few days relaxing (Mike), recovering (Ann), and enjoying our time in Calgary. Ann’s going to miss the morning crosswords with Donna and Sam, and I’m already feeling the withdrawal from my constant discussions with Donna. We are ever so lucky to have such generous family. Donna and Sam once again opened their home, and their hearts, to us two wayward vagabonds. I am deeply appreciative.

We spent over two weeks in Calgary, then hopped a flight back to Phoenix. The flight was a a bit bumpy, but uneventful. We actually flew over Waterton Park . We arrived back in Arizona, and were generously greeted by Cheryl and Pat, who once again welcomed us back to their home in the desert. We arrived to cloudy skies and rainy conditions. True to the screwy weather we’ve had during our whole trip, Black Canyon City was doused with unseasonably heavy rain. Roads were flooded and closed, and “washes”, which are usually dry gullies, lived up to their name.

 

We’ve decided to head to Tucson to get our bikes serviced early next week, and to visit with my childhood friend. Until then we’ll hang out here in BCC.

Our last morning on the Colorado River (at least for now) was a cold one as we woke up to frost on the ground and the bikes. We broke camp and headed into the nearby town for breky and a bit of warmth. Then if was off for the final push to visit Pat and Cheryl and Harper Lee. Our friends from Kamloops were once again taking in these two homeless vagabonds, giving us a warm place to stay, and treating us royally with good food, beer, and tours of the area.

Their place north of Phoenix is in the heart of the Sonora Desert. They’re house features a huge windowed wall that looks out onto their yard containing cacti of all sorts. Prickly pear, agave, hedgehog, velvet mesquite, and of course the massive Saguaro.

Two things you learn very quickly in this desert. One is how stunning, amazing and other-worldly it all is.  The other is that everything wants to kill you; the animals like the spiders, snakes and scorpions , but even all the lovely looking plants. Everything has huge spines and hooks and barbs. If you ever tripped and fell into a bush they’d be pulling spines from your body for weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We spent a few days with Cheryl and Pat and their little cutie dog Harper Lee . We got the grand tour of the area, including a day trip up into the foothills to an old ghost town of Cleator. According to Wiki, Cleator was originally called Turkey Creek, and was established as a small gold mining town. It was renamed Cleator in 1925 after James P. Cleator took over the place.

Today there is little more than a bar up in Cleator, but what a bar! It’s even home to the Cleator Yacht Club, complete with boats and docks and surfboards.

    

We finally said a temporary goodbye to Harper and her keepers and hopped a flight back to Alberta to spend the holidays with family. We’ll be back in Arizona early in the new year to carry on our journey. There are more friends to visit, and plenty of places yet to see. But until then it’s back to the wintery north for a couple of weeks of festivities and family.

 

We said goodbye to modern day Sodom and Gomorrah and hit the road heading south. Unlike most of our journey so far where deadlines are nonexistent, we are flying back to Alberta to spend X-mas with the Phillips Clan, so we have to be settled in Phoenix in time to catch a flight north. We’re staying with our friends who put us up (put up with us 😉 ) back in Kamloops. They have a place just north of Phoenix, and have once again said we are welcome. So we want to arrive in time to spend a few days with them, and perhaps to arrange some basic scooter maintenance in the big city.

Heading south from Vegas we passed by Lake Mead and the Hoover Dam. Ann wanted to see the area, but we opted not to visit the actual dam b/c they wanted money. “To see a damn dam? No way!” says I. Poor Ann… But we did drive by the Lake, and got a good view of the reservoir. Two things jump out. Firstly is just the presence of a large body of water. We’re already used to desert conditions, so seeing any amount of water is odd. Seeing a massive lake in this landscape is actually a bit jarring. But it certainly saves this part of the region from suffering the same drought that is affecting the areas we’ve travelled through so far.

But the second thing that you notice is just how far down Lake Mead is from its high water mark. Apparently the Lake is now at a record low level. The average height is approximately 175 ft above where it currently sits. This is clearly visible even from our view on the highway. I’m not sure what this means for the future, but it can’t be good.

Our destination for this day was a national park campground further down the Colorado River system on Lake Mohave. This campground is nothing like I’m used to in the Boreal Forest. It is desert now, complete with large tumbleweeds (one that almost tumbled in front of me while driving!), lots of palm trees, sharp prickly things that grab and tear clothes and skin, and the oddest assortment of critters I’ve ever seen. This includes the real life roadrunner. And yes, we even heard coyotes in the area.

Like so much of our route, this campground is obviously insanely busy during the peak warmer months. Huge numbers of houseboats, fishing boats, and racey boats are all tied off to extensive docks. There is even a dedicated boat launch driving lane that starts more than a km away from the water. It must be absolutely crazy during the on-season. Right now though everything is quiet and calm … all except the wind which was blowin’ a gale.

Despite the intense wind we decided to head into the nearby Bullhead City to pick up some additional provisions. The Colorado River marks the border between Arizona (where we are) from Nevada. Across from Bullhead is the sister city of Laughlin, but despite being separated by a small stretch of water, the two sides are worlds apart. Bullhead is a pretty normal looking place with shops and motels and parks. It’s a small place, with no building over three of four stories. But right across the river are massive casino resorts, with some hotels towering 20 or more stories. It’s a jarring clash, and speaks to the wealth and seduction that is Nevada gambling.

We spent four nights at this campground. Days were cool and nights even cooler, but we managed to stay warm by bundling up in fleece and toques , and burrowing deep into down sleeping bags . We met some really interesting people here, including a couple from Ohio who had sold their house and were now living the good life, exploring the countryside, while living out of tent and CRV — yes, not an RV, but a car. Too cool! We also met a few motorcyclists, and a few other campers in the area. Everyone has a story to tell. It’s great.

After four days we pulled up stakes and headed south again, this time stopping at a state park further down the Colorado River system. On the way there we passed by London Bridge — yes, THE London Bridge. Turns out some kooky rich dude decided to buy the bridge from London and bring it to Arizona, piece by piece. Why would anyone do this … that is a good question, but one never asked or answered despite the expansive tourist trap that has been built up around the reassembled bridge.

By mid afternoon we made it to just south of Parker Dam, to a nice little state park with campsites right next to the Colorado River. Looking at the topographical maps shows that this is the last area where the River is of significant width. Below this it becomes much smaller, and is increasingly diverted off into a series of canals and irrigation channels. The mighty Colorado is no more.

Camping right next to the water was pretty enticing after our previous site in the desert. It also came with a handy cabana which was great for food storage, as well as getting out of the cool wind that was blowing down the valley. Funny thing happened overnight though. We had just crawled into the sleeping bags and were reading when I heard water splattering. “It’s raining!” says I. How can this be?!? We haven’t seen rain since leaving the coast. Turned out we had pitched our tent in the midst of some underground water sprinklers. The tent got a good cleaning that night.

 

 

The next day was to be the final push to Phoenix and to Cheryl and Pat’s place just north of the city. Here we enter the Sonora Desert; the land of mighty Saguaro Cactus.

We left Death Valley and headed for another kind of hellish place, this one purely made by Man. Las Vegas is gaudy, dirty, tacky and busy … all the things I crave in life. But it is cheap, and it does take us in the right direction. We found a room on the south side of the city in a casino resort.

Gambling is everywhere, so everything is a casino. The hotel is pretty nice, and the complex has movie theatres, a bowling alley, a dozen or so restaurants and bars, and of course lots and lots of gambling tables and one armed bandits.

We ended up on the 20th floor with a glorious view of the freeway, the smog, and the distant hills/mountains. We could even see our little bikes down in the lot below. 

The hotel is fancy in a cheaply tacky way, but the food and beer is good and fairly inexpensive, and the room is quite comfy, so I can’t complain too much. We’ve wondered the gambling halls, and I was somewhat tempted to try my hand at blackjack, but I couldn’t find a table with a low enough minimum. Apparently my ¢25 isn’t enough for them 😉 .

We’re spending two nights here, and then heading back to the land. Ann has found us a campground on the Colorado River, in a National Park. Will be great to get out of this city, and back into a tent.

 

Happy Birthday to You
You live in a zoo
You look like a monkey
And you smell like one too.

😉

Guess who’s birthday it is today? Annnnneeeeeeeeee, my love! Ann turns a ripe old age of the finest whiskey today, so what better place to celebrate than in a valley where hints of mortality surround. The Furnace Creek Ranch is a pretty ritzy place for our modest lifestyle, but you only turn 53 once, so we checked in for three nights to celebrate and to explore the valley.

Ann’s only wish was to drink good wine from actual stem glasses, and given that we have almost no additional space to carry anything on the bikes, this became her present. Unfortunately no glassware was to be had (aside from stealing it from the kitchen), but I did find these lovely onyx goblets for sale, along with some descent California wines. I think she was happy.

The next day we headed off to Badwater, the actual lowest point in Death Valley. Like all the rest of the area, it is a strange and outlandish place. The area is a salt encrusted basin at 282 feet below sea level. When the torrential rains come, as they very occasionally do, all the water eventually ends up here. The water table itself is not too far down, so the water lifts salts from the land and deposits it as vast salt beds as the water recedes. The effect is stark and otherworldly.

   

After Badwater we drove back to where we had passed the sand dunes the day before. These are honest to goodness, Lawrence of Arabia/Tatooine style desert dunes right here in Death Valley. We walked for miles (OK, Ann walked for miles, I walked for a kilometres 😉 ), exploring this unexpected find.

   

After exploring the dunes we headed back to the Ranch to carry on the birthday girl’s celebration with a fine dinner, and then more wine on our deck. Our last day was spent relaxing, searching for what to do next, and then exploring the immediate area on foot. We found an old date palm grove that had seen better days, and revelled in the good beer, pizza and funny X-mas mood of this oasis in the desert.

 

     

 

Tomorrow we head for (gulp) Las Vegas. I was really hoping to avoid it, but weather is still cold (lows around 0C) and it has the cheapest places around. So I shall gird my loins and enter into yet another valley of death.

We left our comfy motel in Bakersfield and headed east into the dry hills and mountains that lead to Valley known as Death. In our usual attempt to avoid big, fast freeways, we took the path-less-travelled, up over the ranges that led first to a Lake Isabella. The signs of California’s long drought are all around us now. The Lake, which is a major reservoir for the area, and was once a large recreational waterway, has shrunk to 5% of it’s total capacity. You can clearly see the high water marks way up the valley, and compare it to the puddle of lake that now remains.

Our journey that day took us through some of the most stunning vistas and stark landscapes I have yet known. Of course, this is but a warm up for the big show of Death Valley, but it is all amazing, harsh and beyond anything I’ve seen before. On our way down from Lake Isabella we started to see the funniest looking stout trees … or are they cacti? Turns out there are known as Joshua Trees and are type of yucca plant. Named by Mormons after some bible guy, these are yet another bizarre addition to the strange and disturbingly alluring landscape we are now passing through. That night we ended our journey in the town of Ridgecrest.

 

        

The next morning we truly began our climb up, and then down, down, down into the lowest place in North America. Death Valley is 282 feet below sea level at its lowest point. But to get there we had to drive up and over a mountain pass that topped out at over 5,000 feet! It was a long steep and chilly climb up, and then a fun and fast drive down to the bottom of the world.

Our first stop was Stovepipe Wells, which is little more than a gas station and gift shop. Great place to refuel the bikes and ourselves though. It was bizarre to see the altitude signs drop from 2,000 feet to 1,000 to Sea Level, and then beyond. After a lunch of bread and Tillamook cheese we headed off for our final destination of Furnace Creek. Along the road there we passed by strangely coloured cliffs, sand dunes, and a bizarre landscape shaped by wind and flash floods. We arrived at the Furnace Creek Ranch and took up residence in the only oasis of this huge valley. 

 

We finally pulled out of the Monterey area and headed south once again. We passed through Big Sur, famous for big vista and big surfable waves, and made our way down the coast to San Simeon State Park. After nearly a month of motels we finally pulled out the camping gear and found a small spot under a tree in a state park.

The landscape has truly turned foreign and weird. Palm trees are now common, and I spotted my first of many real live wild cacti. The trees in the campground were all unknown pines … and they were short. Too short to hang our food bag from. Luckily the hiker/biker campsite had a food box, which kept the racoons, skunks and other small critters from eating our dinner.

Although the highway separated our campground from the ocean, there was a short path under the road which led to the beach. As usual, the view was stunning, and hard to put into words. Instead, I’ll let the  Ann-o-rama (thanks Arin 🙂 ) speak for us:

While at the campsite we met some interesting people, including a young couple who are bicycling to Argentina from BC. She was from Quebec and he from France, and together they were peddling their way down in the cause of sustainable agriculture. Fascinating and fun folks. They even expressed some appreciation for our little journey (humouring the old folks, no doubt). Check out their website. http://www.semeenselle.com.

This area of the California coast is amazing, not just for its beauty, but also for being the location of Hearst Castle (a la William Randolph Hearst, the 19th and early 20th century newspaper magnate and inspiration for the classic, Citizen Kane). But the real highlight is the hundreds of elephant seals that have come ashore to begin their birthing and mating season. It was an incredible sight to see these massive animals in their actual habitat, doing what they do. For females it was mostly sleeping, birthing and nursing, barking, and fending off the unwanted advances of teenage males. For the younger males it was a lot of growling, displaying and practice fighting.

I was all excited to see the young males, but then one of the volunteer guides explained that those were just kids playing. Then she pointed out a real Alpha Male. He was massive, with a and huge trunk that put the youngins to shame. We learned the alphas can weigh in at  5,000 pounds. The mature females are a tiny 1,800 pounds in comparison.

While we were there we got to see a scene right out of a nature documentary. At one point an uppity male tried to put the moves on one this big guy’s females. He came charging over, growling and displaying his full form. He then proceeded to scatter the whole beach of all the lesser males. Everywhere he dragged his massive bulk all the other seals, both male and female, would scatter. We spent a couple of hours just watching and being amazed by these bulky water denizens. We were even treated to the view of the first newborn of the season.

As we were getting ready to head back to camp a volunteer asked if we had stopped to see the zebras  … Err, what now!?! Apparently the same maniacal builder of castles, also had a thing for zebras. Hearst had a bunch brought over from Africa, and then now roam the area ranch land, mixing with the cattle. Low and behold, as we drove back to camp what do we spy but a bunch of black and white stripped horse-like things in amongst the cows. Had to stop and take a picture:

The time along the coast has been spectacular, but new adventures call, and it is time to turn our backs to the sea and start heading inland. We spent one last evening smelling the salt air and enjoying the surf and animal life.

    

We packed our tent, our bags, and our bikes, and after one more short run along the coast we turned east and headed into the dry California hills. Our route took us right over the infamous San Andreas fault line, which is the likely location of the west coast’s future shoreline after the next Big One comes. It also took us through what will no doubt become the norm for a while: a dry, dusty, and almost alien landscape.

We arrived in Bakersfield, and not finding any suitable campsites we checked into yet another cheap motel. We’re working on getting up, and then down into Death Valley. This is no small feat at this time of year for those of us on motorcycles. We have to get up and over a couple of mountain ranges, before we can take the deep plunge into the deep dry valley. A weather window is opening on the weekend though, so we’ll linger here till Saturday. We can catch up on laundry, and enjoy the pub that is within easy stagger distance. It has $3 IPA on tap, plus great food, all at cheap prices. Gotta love happy hour!

 

We left San Francisco and headed back to the coast. Although we had to suffer through about a 1/2 hour of freeway travel, we quickly got back onto more sensible and interesting roads. The highway turns slow and twisty as we climbed up, and then rode down, the smaller coastal mountains all the way to the sea. It’s almost redundant to keep saying, but the scenery was once again breathtaking. A short stop at no place in particular gives just a small taste.

With temperatures still way below normal (record breaking lows for around here), we once again moved into a cheap motel. And with American Thanksgiving the next day, we decided it wise to stay put for two nights. This motel is like all the others; perfectly acceptable in function and cleanliness, with just a wee hint of a cat-pee smell. Ah well, you get what you pay for 😉

We got checked in, and after a short chat with one of the other guest couples who were in the middle of a round-the-world tour to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary, we headed off to explore our surrounds. A short walk took us to a nearby park, and then eventually down to the beach.

We’re now far enough south that the flora and fauna are becoming increasingly weird. Lots of palm and cacti-type plants are around, and there are odd birds of all sorts. Even the not-so-odd ones look a bit different. We saw

 

long-snouted plovers , dark coloured pelicans , and odd-ball ducks . And lots of palm trees:

Turns out American Thanksgiving is a BIG DEAL, with lots of travellers and visitors. Campgrounds threaten to be busy and hotels/motels are both loaded and expensive. After some online snooping we realized the motel we are in was our cheapest option, so we got comfortable, and booked in here for a few more days. Our room has a fridge and microwave, so we cooked our second Thanksgiving dinner of the year. Yum, yum.

 

The forecast calls for Freezing Warnings, and Hard Freezing Watches, which around here means two hours of temperatures of -2˚ to -3˚C. They warn to cover sensitive vegetation and not to leave pets or animals outside. It may not sound that cold, but this is around 10˚C below the normals, which makes it still a bit too chilly for camping. In fact, it looks like we’re even breaking some record lows.Temperatures are slowly returning to normal over the coming few days, so hopefully our tent will see some use soon. Meanwhile, we enjoy the surroundings:

       

Folks are friendly and warm here. We had one guy pass us by and comment, “You look like you’re contestants in the show Survivor.” I think he was referring to Ann. What do you think?