In my early school years I was informed by a well-meaning teacher that I was wasting my time daydreaming and building castles in the air, and I needed to do something more productive with my time. It wasn't until many years later that I realized there's nothing wrong with building castles in the air; that's where they should be. The trick is to build a sturdy foundation under them and transform them into reality. After all, you have to start somewhere; and for that matter, is daydreaming all that different from planning?

   We hear all the time how life is a journey not a destination and that is very true as far as it goes. The part that particular maxim leaves out is how we have to accept that when we reach for the far horizon we will never quite grasp it because the horizon is always just a little further ahead of us, and that's o.k.; it keeps the journey fresh and exciting. If we accomplish every goal we set for ourselves, what is left? Do we sit around gloating for the rest of our lives? Is that really what you want to spend your Golden Years - the only ones to really belong to you since you ran barefoot and carefree through the backyard sprinkler - doing? Me either! I want to always have at least one more thing I want to accomplish in life. I don't want to MAKE a bucket list, I want to LIVE it!
   I  leave you with a quote from the great Hunter S. Thompson (although I've seen various versions of it attributed to others) from his "Gonzo Papers", later published in book form as "Gonzo":

   "Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up , totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a ride!"

   Some of the alternate versions will have you holding a glass of whiskey, a cigarette, or chocolate; whichever version you prefer, let's all get out there and mix it up a bit. I've done my level best to prove that long-ago teacher wrong, but I could use some help.
 See you peeps out there somewhere near the distant horizon!        -Lynn


     
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   Earlier this month, as I sat in our coach in Bedrock City (in Valle, AZ) listening to raindrops tapping on the aluminum roof, it occurred to me that precipitation in the desert southwest is viewed very differently than on the coast where I am from. Even after years of drought in California the rains, when they finally came, were at best regarded as inconvenient and at worst, as a complete disaster. Granted, the central coast sustained devastating damage from the continual deluge this past winter, but it seemed like everyone looked right past the good points; our reservoirs were finally full and the central valley farmers could once again grow the crops that feed us all. 

But no, most of us grumped and grouched about the closed roads and longer drive times to work and shopping.

   Things are very different in the desert; the residents, both human and animal, view the rain in a very different light. They wait anxiously for the start of the summer monsoon season because they instinctively understand that rain is the harbinger of life in this arid region. Rain is the difference between a creek and a dry wash; the difference between a crop and dried-up stalks; the difference, quite literally, between life and death.

   The sound of thunder over the distant mountains and the sight of pillow-soft clouds rising up over the jagged peaks, forming into lavender colored thunderheads which slowly roll towards you across the valley; these are the sights and sounds that make a desert dweller's heart race just a little bit faster. People there watch the darkening skies in eager anticipation of the first few cool drops hitting the hot pavement with a hiss and sizzle; the sound of life returning to the dry earth.

   That smell of that first minute or two of cloudburst is something you will never forget. The air around you is charged with brimstone and the aroma of the rich red dust being kicked up by each individual raindrop as it hammers its way into the earth is the sweet damp smell of life itself. 

 Enjoy every day of it My Friends, for it is Life...rain or shine!

There was a time in America when a family road trip was a very different thing than it is today. There were no concerns about connectivity or cell phone coverage. Heck, you were lucky just to have a t.v. in your motel room and cable was almost unheard of. Drive time entertainment consisted of fighting with your siblings over comic books and actually looking out the windows at the landscape you were passing through, and having control of the window-winder handle made you a King or a Queen. That was also the golden era of the roadside attraction. People would drive miles out of their way to see the worlds tallest thermometer or biggest ball of string. Your job as a child, of course, was to convince your disbelieving parents that a two headed rattlesnake or a shrunken mummy head was actually an educational experience not to be missed.

Even more difficult was getting them to pony-up for a tour through Dinosaur Land or Christmas
Village. More often than not, you watched these wonders pass by with your face pressed to the window, vowing someday to return to Frontier Town to ride in the "Stage Coach Adventure of a Lifetime".

That was how it happened that Joe and I watched with dismay as we zipped past Bedrock City in Arizona so many, many years ago. It was just too much money to spend for something that would only disappoint us, our parents said. Besides, we still have the next museum to see yet today!

Many years later, on our honeymoon in 1999, Joe and I did return to the scene of the crime, only to discover that the attraction was all but closed. A gift shop remained, and a few somewhat sad remnants of the original park were all that was left. We bundled up our disappointment once again and continued on our way to the Grand Canyon. While we did enjoy the rest of our trip, that visit to the scene of Fred and Wilma's demise just seemed to stick with us all these years.

  This year we finally had the chance to renew our old acquaintance with the Bedrock City of our childhood dreams when the first monsoon of the summer season chased us out of our boondocking spot in the mountains near Williams, AZ. Dirt roads, a sudden deluge of rain, and a low-slung GMC motorhome do not play well together at all! We quickly flung things into drawers and closets and made a dash down the hill, only to have the cloudburst catch up to us while refuelling in Williams. What to do now? We decided to visit Fred and Wilma, and Barney and Betty, because they lived just off the highway on a well packed gravel road. So, we called and made a reservation to stay in the small RV park at Bedrock City for two days, which would allow us to hook up to shore power (electricity) to charge up our house batteries. The approaching storm clouds had prevented us from getting a full charge with our solar panels, despite having re-positioned the coach for the best sun.

This change of plans turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip thus far; we had a blast! The park, located in Valle, AZ, has been restored to its former glory, without taking away from the vintage feel of the original. The prices are very affordable, the store is well stocked, and the food at Fred's Diner is good and reasonably priced. Who could resist ordering the Bronto Burger? Certainly not us! The staff is friendly and even cheerfully helped us locate the correct adapter we needed to hook into their power, as we had neglected to bring one. They sent us to the gentleman at the local hardware store, who searched through his entire inventory to locate the correct one for us.

Fred and the Gang will truly make you smile!

On the second day, we took the plunge and decided to purchase the park tour. The entry fee (a reasonable $5.00 when we were there) includes a ride on the train through a "volcano", entry to the theater, and the dinosaur slide (yes, I did!). There are numerous cleverly furnished buildings and characters throughout the park. What a fun day; next time we pass this way, we'll re-live our childhood yet again!

Bedrock City is located on Highway 64 north of Williams, in Valle, AZ, right on the way to the Grand Canyon. They have a laundry, showers, a dump station and potable water available. Don't disappoint your kids or your inner child; just pony-up and go do it!

Five Dollars To Get Into The Park and it's worth every cent!

Many years ago, as a sixteen-year-old on a summer adventure in Utah's Escalante  Wilderness Area (now part of the Grand Staircase - Escalante National Monument) I asked my Uncle Fran if we were lost. Without even a pause, he replied "How can you be lost if you don't care where you are?"

 As an adult, almost forty years later, I still remember that defining moment vividly. In fact, I find myself pondering that question a lot lately. At our age, Joe and I have quite a few friends just a year or two older than us who are looking seriously at retiring soon, and are asking themselves "What now?". 

They have realized, like so many of us, that their whole life has been spent in pursuit of something that doesn't make them happy. What seemed like an important goal when young, whether a career, a successful business, or a big house with a white picket fence and a pool, something seems still to be missing when the target is achieved. Family and friends are vitally important of course, but I'm not referring to that aspect of our lives here. Rather, I am talking about the material things we all seem to crave to mark our success.

So, whether you are still young and just starting the journey, or young-at-heart and further down the road, ask yourself this question; "If I am going to spend the rest of my life chasing something, shouldn't it be MY dream?"... and then listen, really listen, to the answer.

 Happy trails, my friends!                                               -Lynn

A Video Update , And more to come

Our Final Video Before We Leave for the road!

Meet Alice !

This is my friend Alice. She will be 40 years young just about the time Joe and I follow her down the rabbit hole; and now you also know why she is named Alice. We were conceited enough to think we could select her name ourselves when we first brought her home, calling her Sugar Pie after Sugar Pie DeSanto, the reigning Queen of West Coast R&B and Soul.

 Why would we do that, you ask? Because we bought Alice from Ms. DeSanto’s manager Jim and his lovely wife Lo, who purchased it to use as a tour vehicle. They hadn’t used it much in the last five years, so decided it was time to pass the coach on to someone else. We were not only lucky enough to be adopted by Alice, but gained some wonderful new friends as well. We talked music and the old days of the jazz and blues scene for hours; what a great time! Jim included a copy of Ms. DeSanto’s “Sugar Is Salty” CD in the deal, which we will frame for the wall of the coach. We are firm believers in keeping something of the history of a vehicle with it going forward into the future. We are only the third owners of Alice, with Jim and Lo before us, and a northern California GMC dealership owner (also named Jim) before them. It seems that a lot of these coaches were originally purchased by dealers for their family, which says a lot about the quality of the vehicle.

Gosh, where are my manners? I introduced you to Alice but didn’t give you her stats! She is a svelte 26-8-9 (27.9-2.4-2.7 for our European & Canadian friends). That is, she is 26’ long by 8’ wide at the waist by 9’ high at the top of the rooftop air conditioner. She is a stunning honey blonde, which is to say a warm beige color of Imron (aircraft) paint. Her shell is a two piece (the top half fits over the bottom half and seals at the waist) aluminum and fiberglass for lightweight strength without the leaky roof issues so common with modern coaches. Her interior is also beige, with mahogany stained cabinets (which I am warming up with a thin top coat of red oak stain to bring it more in line with the cherry wall panels we installed in the living room area). Since Joe and I are not really beige people, we will liven her up inside with some wonderful retro orange and lime green accents as an homage to the the era she was designed and produced (1977). Alice rocks a front wheel drive system that allows her to sit low for easy entry and puts on her high heel sneakers (an air-bag suspension) to gain height for travel. She is powered by a 455 Oldsmobile engine and a turbo-hydramatic 425 tranny.

Think of her as a big-boned Toronado with an attitude and a lot of class! The best part is, she averages between 10 and 13 mpg, which is kinda awesome for a motorhome. We are still putting some finishing touches on her, but Alice is lookin’ pretty slick!

Now, about the Rabbit Hole. Those of you who know us know that Joe and I have a tendency to run away and join the circus every now and again. To translate, we tend to do things that everyone tells us won’t work out well for us, but somehow they do. For instance, very few people thought we could make a living photographing short track stock car racing, which we did for 12-plus years. We just prefer to make a living doing something we enjoy and which fulfills us, which usually isn’t the typical 9-5 sort of gig (are you humming that song too? I just can’t help it!). So, we are going to go down the rabbit hole with Alice. And like her famous namesake, we think we know what is down there, but we really have no idea. And so we will begin the grand adventure full of hope and enthusiasm, and secure in the knowledge that life is really all about the experience and not the end result anyhow. Here’s to the experience, for all of us!
                                                              -Lynn