Saggitarius or Spy?

This was an interesting read today for my horoscope...I don't know if it is coincidence or someone is stalking me and giving out personalized horoscopes...haha...whatever the case, it was one of those things that just makes you go hmmmmmm...

"You're likely aware of your writing abilities, Sagittarius, but you may not realize the extent of your talent. It would be worthwhile to devote more time to your craft. You can't improve much if writing time is interrupted by other obligations. Take some time to produce something of value. Why not give it a try, even if just for a week or so, to see what you can do?"

That's IT!

Two weeks ago, everything I owned fit into my van. Now I have an apartment full of furniture. Granted, I haven't spent a lot of money, but it all came together rather easily and quickly. The next door neighbor moved out and left me her ugly floral sofa and loveseat, and a large television, old style. Great location...she even helped me move it into my living room. So I ditched the ghetto sofa, and left it on the curb for the Salvation Army. I picked up the coffee table a few nights ago for $15. Solid wood, and huge. I love it. I also picked up the dresser/tv stand a few days back too, free, curbside after a tip was phoned in, ha ha. I painted it deep pink, ran out of paint, will finish another day. Now THAT IS IT. I don't want any more furniture. It will start to look like my mother's if I try to squeeze anything else in here.

I am enjoying life outside the van. I no longer have to go to another building to use the bathroom. There is very little traffic on my street, and my bedroom is set way back from the street. One of the things I hated most about the RV parks was the huge pick-up trucks people rumbled through the parks with day and night, and had them idling while they tried painfully to park their beast. The bathroom is much appreciated. Most of the private park bathrooms, particularly in the states were hideously filthy and run down, if they worked at all. The state parks were in better condition, but their campgrounds also did not have power, which I needed, so I stayed mostly in RV parks. I'm finding it much warmer in the apartment though, to sleep. It always cooled off quite nicely in the van, but my apartment holds more heat I reckon. I have the bedroom window open all the time, but can't leave the living room window open - it's ground floor with no fixed screen, just a slider I put in to keep the bugs out.

Aside from the bathroom joys, I am also enjoying cooking in my own kitchen again. I could cook in my friend's kitchens along the way, but to be honest, there's nothing like your own kitchen, your own space, and cleaning things up at your own pace. My new kitchen is so small, I can usually reach everything from one spot, ha ha.

I really enjoy being able to jump in the van and take off at a moment's notice, without having to dread packing up the camper and then later unpacking again when I parked for the night. I do try to walk somewhere every day, but when errands come up that are too far to walk, or involve carrying very heavy things such as furniture, I take Karma out. Sometimes I forget how much she stands out. People talk to me every single time I take Karma out. Today I was stopped in traffic when a couple of guys in a pick-up truck stopped next to me in the turn lane. One guy was half hanging out of the truck window, commenting on the van and informing me he was really drunk...it was 12:30pm. I still get lots of thumbs up, peace signs, honks, remarks, whistles, hoots, you name it. Karma soaks it all up...go Karma

The Writer's Life

So I've been in my apartment for 2 weeks now. Have mostly settled in, just waiting for the neighbor to move out this weekend and leave me her sofa and loveseat. I've rescued some curbside furniture and painted it up. All of the painting is finally done in the apartment, though mr handyman has been here nearly every day since, working in other units, or on the building itself. It hasn't been too distracting, but I do see him pass in front of my window several times a day. Not as much however, as the Brit next door. She paces the walkway and the driveway on the other side of the privacy hedge, smoking and chatting on the phone. My window is usually closed, so I don't hear her, thankfully. I just happen to notice her.

I've been getting some writing down, some research started, a fair bit of reading. I am finding the days fly by though, I wish they'd slow down. I checked into taking a sign language course this winter at the University of Victoria, however I have to take the first course, offered this fall. I can't do that as I'll be on the road for a few weeks, missing several classes. So I'm looking at taking some writing workshops in late fall from somewhere else. They have November dates, so that works for me.

Stormy has settled right in and I had him out for his first walk today. I hadn't taken him out before as I didn't have his harness. I forgot to ask my daughter to pop that in the cage with him. I picked one up this morning and let him get used to it before we went for a short walk. He likes to sniff everything, so it ends up being a lot of standing, not much walking. Almost like visiting a museum with someone who likes to take their time...hard on my back and not real entertaining.

I haven't been feeling up to snuff all week, mostly due to my fibromyalgia...got an achy breaky body...GAWD how I hated that Billy Ray Cyrus song...so I've been doing a lot of restless resting...can't get comfortable, too tired to sit all the time, and too sore to do much walking. I did walk over to my former host house last night for a couple of drinks, and paid for that on the way home. Thankfully it was cooler, so at least I wasn't overheated and sore. Just sore. It's what I love so much about Victoria's weather - cool nights. Always. Thank-you Victoria.

And now, with my writing put away for now, I'm going to sack on the ghetto sofa with Stormy and watch Ellen. She makes me laugh.

Thanks But No Thanks

Okay, I have had 4 visits from neighbors already today. 4 more than I was expecting or desired. First with the drill bits that weren't drill bits and now Anita has come pounding on my door with a blouse she thought I might like. I told her I stopped wearing clothes like that when I quit my government job. But thank-you just the same. She walked away, holding the so-not-my-taste blouse in front of her. I wear t-shirts and tank tops, not frilly-old-lady-office-manager-who-shops-at-Sears. Oh, and the Brit was back again. She's also shouted hello through the window where my desk looks out. I'm going to have to shut this down real quick or I'll be packing soon. I didn't realise that in being friendly with them in passing would quickly develop into "here are some clothes I thought you might like". Personally I think she was trying to get a look in at my apartment, as her neck near stretched off her shoulders while I was talking to her at the door.

I was looking for a quiet refuge to get some writing done. I may have to work at creating that. It might result in the purchase of some kind of window covering. I had wanted to be able to look out the window but that appears to come at a price. The view is so pleasant though, other than the neighbors...it's a beautiful tall green hedge with trees woven in and around it. Sigh...whine, whine, whine.

On a brighter note, I did get some writing done this morning, despite the interruptions and feel pretty good about that, and pleased with how easily it did flow when I got going. I was worried I would be facing some of the same block I had on the road. Nope - I'm off and running...to Walmart right now for something to cover the window...probably a sheet in a bright color that will keep nosy neighbors out but still let some light in.

Overly Helpful Neighbors

Okay, so we know about being left the drill without the drill bits last night. I failed to mention the two older ladies who thought they had drill bits for me. Both went digging in their apartments only to come up with screwdriver tips, and no actual drill bits. They both showed up at the door proudly showing me their find...Ladies, I need a drill bit, something to DRILL WITH, not something to put screws in with. I have that already, it's called a SCREW DRIVER. I need to make tiny holes through the planks into the bed frame so I can then use drive screws into those holes without splitting the wood. Apparently I must have been the topic of conversation today. I only mentioned it to my next door neighbor last night when I bumped into her as I was stomping down to the recycling with my empty boxes, fuming about the lack of drill bits. This afternoon, as I was just falling off to sleep in a good catnap with Stormy, the second gal came pounding on the door. I only got up because I thought it was mr handyman looking for his drill. I was planning to pounce on him and ask him for the bits. Sigh...no sign of mr handyman today, even though he said he expected to be here all day today.

There was also an older male neighbor who threw his hat in...and came up empty. Thought he had drill bits too, but came back with nothing. He didn't own a drill, but thought he may have some bits...If I have to go buy a damn drill bit just to put my bed together, I am going to be unhappy. The real irony is that my father's extensive collection of tools contains probably dozens and dozens of drill bits, in both imperial and metric sizes, with many duplicates. Dammit. His tool collection is about 6500 kilometres from here. I slept on the bed last night and while it was fine, it also feels like it won't take much stress, as the centre support is not in place yet - it also needs to be drilled and screws to position.

Apartment News

So, the painting is finally finished in my apartment. They still have to install a tub liner, but that won't be in for about 6 weeks or more. I picked up my bed frame today and attempted to put it together. 3 hours later and much swearing, I finally got the frame together and was ready for the support slats. I had asked mr handyman to leave his drill behind for me. I also showed him the screw so he could leave me the proper bit size. I should have checked to be sure. I was left with a drill and NO bits. Kind of like loaning someone your car but forgetting to put the tires on. Pointless.

Sigh...so the bed slats are laying on the frame, and I am hoping they won't slip. I don't have a box spring as the slats are the support, but if they shift, I may find myself on the floor...so no monkeys jumping on the bed I reckon. The bed is otherwise, lovely hardwood. Someone in the building gave me the little nightstand. It was battered and paint chipped when I got it, originally plain wood, then white paint, then black paint. I spray painted it 'plum preserve' aka purple. The pillows came from the van, the bedding was all less than $40 at Walmart, and the curtain is a sheet I bought at Value Village in Halifax for $3. The lamp came from the same guy as the table. The storage cubes also came out of the van. I reckon the bed will hold it's value should I want to sell it when I leave here. Otherwise, it's worth storing while I hit the road again in the spring. There isn't anything on the walls yet, not likely to be much as I don't own much artwork, just a few posters and small paintings, nothing with a frame. I reckon I'll just put some larger posters and cloth items on the wall to add some color. Funny how different the room looks with and without flash. The walls are apartment beige but look yellow without the flash.

The living room isn't quite set up yet. The next door neighbor is giving me her sofa and love seat next week, so I just need some kind of coffee table. www.usedvictoria.com is a great site to find stuff. I already bought a table for my desk last weekend off there. After that, there won't be much else I really need or want to have in here. It is the least cluttered living space I've been in, as I lost all that STUFF in the fire. I'm okay with not having as much STUFF to deal with. Empty closet space...empty cupboards...WHAT? Perfect.

Van Morrison's Moondance

I nearly forgot to post about the Van Morrison concert a couple of weeks ago. It was the first time I went solo to a concert, but it didn't matter. When I first arrived at the Gorge, there weren't many campers, but more arriving all the time and while it looked like a pretty tame crowd at first, it wasn't long before things were rocking at the campground, as people got jazzed up for Van. I met some rather interesting young folks who were from the Tacoma area, and leaving to drive back after the show as one of the gals had classes in the morning - dedicated I say. They camped there the night before, as I had considered but wasn't sure if anyone would be there, so camped at Walmart instead...I should have gone with my instincts, which was to go to the campground anyhow. I just didn't want to find myself out in the middle of nowhere and no one else is around...

I also met a couple who were spending their anniversary at the concert, while relatives watched the wee ones. They were such a cute couple, and though I risked being a third wheel, I linked up with them to head over to the concert and the line-up was almost non-existent - they had wayyy more people checking bags this time, unlike Tom Petty where two souls had to check 35,000 people...in any event, we sailed through quickly and went about searching for the best seats. We bypassed the concert gear table, although I had thought I should go before the show rather than later...I waited and when the concert was over, all the tour shirts were sold out. Dammit...oh well, I have my memories. Van did not disappoint. He was not at all friendly and rarely chatted with the crowd and when he finished playing he simply walked off the stage and left. His music, however, was awesome and sure jazzed up the crowd. There were lots of folks older than me, but also quite a few young folks who likely discovered Van Morrison in their parent's music collection.

He sang all the oldies that we all enjoyed, including Moondance. My favorite is still, and always has been, Into the Mystic...I just love those lyrics...I went to sleep late that night, listening to Van's tunes as they wafted through the campground, everyone else charmed by his music as I was. It was a good concert, and I have only grainy BlackBerry photos that I have not yet uploaded. That's okay...I have my memories...thanks Van, ya old curmudgeon...you still have it.

Changing Gears

I’m back in Canada. I’ve decided to try and extend my journey with a longer stop-over in Victoria in order to focus on writing something I could sell. I’ve been apartment hunting this week, for something small where I can hole up and do some serious writing. I have not been able to focus much on my writing while traveling, and I found I couldn’t keep both journeys going simultaneously. This doesn’t mean I won’t be continuing to travel, as I will be on the road again in a few weeks. Bob Dylan calls my name. My good friends here and I are heading to Seattle for Bumbershoot in early September. I’ll come back to Canada again for a while before heading south again in late September to meet up with my gal in Vegas for a few days. I also have two concerts in early October in California so will make a trip of it. I have a travel partner for that journey, as she has also decided to extend her stay in Victoria to build her own small pottery business. I’ll spend the winter here, and then likely head to Mexico to volunteer for a month or two, and traveling on from there through Central America for a while.

I will continue to post here, as the journey is ongoing, and I reckon I’ll have a few shorter road trips. Karma isn’t being retired, she is simply being given some time off. I am sending for Stormy as soon as I secure a place to live, hopefully later this week. I have missed him a great deal, and am looking forward to reconnecting with him. He had always been my sounding board, so now I don’t have to feel foolish for talking to myself, instead I’m talking to the cat. I believe I may have posted about conversations with Stormy some time ago on another blog. Stormy has evolved into a very vocal cat, and my daughter has been keeping the conversations going.

The weather in Victoria has been outright stunning. Only 2 days of rain since Canada Day, and such gorgeous temperatures at 22C-26C and sunny every single day, with very little humidity and a cool breeze most of the time. The evenings are perfect for sleeping, when the temps drop to about 13C or so. No more tossing and turning in a sweaty room. My asthma has been quite good during my time in Victoria as well as my fibromyalgia. I’ve been walking every single day, even if it is just to the supermarket a few blocks away, and often all the way downtown. There is much to be seen on these Victoria streets. The neighborhoods are eclectic and beautiful. The trees overhang the sidewalks much of the time, providing beautiful shade for pedestrians. I’m going to see a place this evening, described as “cozy” …we shall see. I am looking for the smallest place possible, and I am not looking to buy any new furniture. I reckon all I need are a bed, desk, sofa and television, second hand all the way. The apartment needs only to have a separate bathroom, a separate entrance, and windows for Stormy to look through, as that is his favourite activity. I want to be able to put my desk in front of a window, to sit and write. I will have to be disciplined if I am to succeed. I’ll need to structure my day in that each morning, for at least 4 hours, I’m at my desk, writing or doing research. I need steady internet access and phone access that isn’t going to break my wallet in order to work on much of my writing, and I found traveling was making that difficult, hindering the process.

So, I’m hoping that the creative juices will flow once I’m settled into a cozy apartment with my own bathroom, and not some filthy truck stop or state park…I’ve spent 18 weeks living in the van so far and while it has been remarkably comfortable, I am looking forward to having a night at home on a real sofa, watching Survivor with the rest of the world, curled up with Stormy. It will be wonderful not to have to move shit around to do nearly anything in the van. Cozy also meant cramped. Moving shit around has never been a desired activity of mine. Let the writing begin…

There's Something In The Fog

It’s been pretty foggy since I arrived here in Ocean Shores. Damp, misty ole fog. I think it brings out the crazies…a couple of travelers pulled in yesterday in their ramshackle truck camper that they claim they bought for $200 (the camper, not the truck) and it shows. Theresa (aka Teres) and Charlie hail from Washington state, and are just on the last days of a 3 week tour of the western states. Charlie was dressed in swim shorts, t-shirt, black socks and sandals.(see kite flyer in photo) Balding head, very few teeth, and a VERY LOUD VOICE, no matter how many times I asked him to turn down the volume. Teres was dressed in her pink valentine jammies all day, with huge blue plastic star earrings. Wanting to spice up the otherwise dull day, I invited them over for a couple of beers. Then I made the mistake of telling them what I used to do for a living…child protection worker. Seems I’ll never learn, as revealing this information is nearly guaranteed to bring forth someone’s pissed off version of events they want my opinion on. This time it was both something Charlie had been reported for, and something he reported, neither of which were real child welfare issues, but he was damned determined he was going to secure an endorsement for his views, which unfortunately, I could not give him. He ended up getting so riled I had to ask him to either give the topic a rest or leave because I wasn’t going to discuss it further. The topics were downright stupid, and I was starting to get a little pissy with him, so he finally left and came back later to apologize. Whatever…my own fault for being honest about my occupation. Next time I’m just using my friend M’s suggestion…she tells people she is a painter. So I am going to just tell people I’m a writer, or a cook, or an underwater basket weaver…anything but a social worker. Teres tried to rein Charlie in, but he was TOO LOUD and didn’t hear her. Once he left the camper, the topic turned itself to her desire to be married to Charlie, and her unfulfilling sex life…oh my fuck. Rednecks are funny. By the time she left the camper, she was pretty drunk, had lain on my bed to take a photo of my John Lennon poster over my bed, had cried a few times, and had given me some interesting gifts. The first was what she called a “yankee candle” which was simply a big jar candle with a lid. It was also half-used. She had what she called a bead skirt on the candle, which her sister made. The other gift was 6 camouflage bandaids. Yes, bandaids. Like I said, rednecks are funny, and a good substitute for cable.

I seem to have gained the affections of the creepy guy who lives in a travel trailer behind the RV park office. I’d seen him around the park, running around in a golf cart. He’s 63 and also started giving me gifts…what is up with that? First he brought by a campfire ring (aka old washing machine drum) and a bundle of wood. He just chucked it down and said “here you go”. I hadn’t asked for one, and really wasn’t interested in a campfire, but whatever. The next gift he brought was a two-line kite, something someone had left here, and he had been unable to make sense of until I explained it needed two lines and joining the parts of the kites with rubber bands and extra pieces of string was not going to make it fly for him. He only had one line. I didn’t particularly want the kite, as it looked broken, but he didn’t leave a lot of choice, just left it with me. So I thought, sure, I’ll root out my kite line and give it a try at the beach later. Turns out I do not have the patience for a two-line kite and ended up leaving it broken, tangled and stuffed under a log at the beach after swearing at it for 20 minutes. I don’t know what my suitor will think, but I doubt he remembers it. He was quite a burnout that made little sense when he was talking to me. He did say he really liked me, and my mystery (mysteriousness?) – was I mysterious? How can I be mysterious in this very obvious hippy van? I’m not sure. Creepy guy also mentioned he went to Woodstock, in 1963…too bad it took place in 1969…

I swear, there is something in the fog.

I took a stroll through the town today, strolling on the very pedestrian unfriendly roads. At some places, it was impossible to continue down main street without walking right on the roadway, as they had left absolutely no space for people to walk. There was nothing real impressive to see, and I ended up stopping by the Pirate’s Cove Pub for lunch. Another disappointment. I ordered the chicken salad. I asked her what kind of salad it was and she said just plain lettuce salad. Um, okay. When it came, it had olives all over it, and a boiled egg sliced on the side along with a package of crackers. WTF? So I picked out that crap, and ate some of the salad, surrounded by pirate memorabilia.The waitress was particularly over-attentive and got on my fucking nerves. First she forgot my appetizer and then about 3 minutes after she brought my meal, she brought me the bill and asked if I wanted the rest of it wrapped up to go…WTF?

I’ve been craving a real cooked meal, but after stopping at several restaurants to review their menu, not much struck my fancy. So tonight, wanting to escape the park again, I took the free shuttle to the casino down the road to check out their buffet, and try my hand at the slots. I did well enough at the slots, though I don’t know why they call them slots anymore – there are no slots and no coins plinking down. They are simple VLT’s. But whatever, I lost my first $5 in a machine rather quickly, about 2 minutes, then I put $10 bill into the Hollywood slots and played for about an hour and a half. I came out with $19.60 that time, so took my winnings to try the buffet. I should have kept my cash…it was a very shitty buffet. The roast beef was still mooing, the turkey was crumbly, and the seafood looked like it was ready to crawl back into the ocean. Not that I would eat it, of course as I don’t eat seafood. The potatoes were cold enough that the butter didn’t melt on them, the rice was very dry and also cold, and the salad dressing was watered down. The roast beef was that damned chewy, I had to spit it all out on my plate. Gross. I spooned up some sautéed mushrooms, thinking they would go great with the beef, but they were ice cold. Maybe dessert would be better…the chocolate mousse was good, but the hot apple pie crust was that tough, I couldn’t cut it with my knife, so I gave up. Sigh…

I’ll be hauling out first thing in the morning, heading to the Gorge. The only thing I may miss about this area is the cooler weather as the Gorge has been blasted by hot sun this week and the venue is merciless with little shade…oh please let me be really drunk by then…

Traveling the Gold Coast Highway

It’s been an interesting few days since my last post. I left the northwest coast of Washington and headed south along US 101, otherwise known as the Gold Coast Highway. My first stop was at the Hoh Rain Forest, which is just a few miles off the highway. I was expecting something more impressive, but it was really just a lot of mossy trees. It was interesting to see how more quickly the trees grow there than elsewhere, and the roots were pretty interesting, however there wasn’t much WOW factor. While I was hiking the trails and left Karma in the parking lot, a fellow Canuck wrote in the dust of my rear window “Cathedral Grove on Van Isle is much better – a fellow Canuck”. I’d have to agree! I fell in love with those giant trees. I did see some very large trees along the highway though, where they post simple signs like “Big Pine Tree” or “Really Big Tree” and when you drive in, that’s just what’s there, one really big tree. When I stopped at the huge cedar, a couple of rushed Americans remarked “well at least we didn’t have to walk a ½ mile to see another dead tree” and they hit the road without really making it up to the tree and took no photos. They passed up on a really cool tree. It had hollowed out quite a bit at the base, and I went right into the tree cave…kind of reminded me of a book I read years ago about a young boy who lived inside a tree one winter, called “My Side of the Mountain”. Look for the Tim Horton’s cup in several of the big tree photos…you can barely see it in some, but be sure to click on the photo to enlarge it and then look. And no, there have been no Tim Horton’s along the way in the US, I just found used one I had from Friday before I went south of the border. I may keep it for a while for perspective. Hint - it isn't in the photos of the mossy rain forest trees...

I camped at the Hoh Rain Forest, although it was rather hot and dry…apparently they get the most rain in the fall, winter and spring. From the Hoh, I traveled south along the 101, stopping at Ruby Beach to see the “stacks” which are much like the Hopewell Rocks in New Brunswick, very picturesque. I took one of the photos from inside a small cave I climbed into. From Ruby Beach I drove along the 101 to the Moclips highway and headed for the beach. I found a gorgeous beach at the bottom of a rather steep hill, and the cool thing about the beach was it was hard packed sand that everyone drove on. I was a little leery at first, but then realized the sand was very hard packed and it was unlikely I would get stuck in the sand. I parked Karma and set up for the afternoon. I read, I wrote, and I swam…well, I waded. The water was significantly warmer than the frigid waters off the west coast of Vancouver Island, however the surf was very rough with row after row of cresting waves crashing down simultaneously. So I went in as far as my waist, and let the waves wash over me. Very refreshing, and the sun came out for just a short period, pretty much while I was in the water, and then went into hiding once again.

After a lovely day at the beach, I packed up to head to a campground for the night, and headed up the hill. That’s when trouble started. It was a rather steep hill and not being able to thunder across the beach to gain momentum to get up the very steep hill, I had to drive in low gears. First was too low, and second was still a bit low as the engine revved at about 3500 rpms or more, so I chucked it into third…big mistake. Big friggin’ mistake. The van stopped dead and stalled out on me and I started to roll backwards down the hill. HIT THE BRAKES!! Uh-oh…the brakes are not nearly strong enough to stop the van going backwards downhill. Karma went flying down the hill backwards like a god damned freight train! HOLY SHIT!!! The van was pretty much out of control and careened down the hill towards the beach. Not wanting to take out whatever was behind me, I tried to veer off to the shoulder at least and before I knew it, Karma SLAMMED her ass into the grassy bank of the ditch next to the shoulder, stopping just a few inches from a large tree. As we hit the bank, everything on the dash went flying towards me and everything in the back shifted all over the place. What a mess. I shakily got out of the van, checked out the damage, which didn’t appear to be too bad, but could have been much worse. Then the realization hit me that Karma could very well have slammed into another car coming up the hill, or worse, some people walking up the road from the beach. That would have been utterly disastrous, and this journey would have come to a screeching halt. Thankfully none of those things happened and I collected myself and called AAA for a tow. I sat in the van to wait for the tow truck and it was unbelievable how many Americans drove by without stopping and worse, how many drove by, slowed down to rubberneck, and then kept on going without even asking if I needed help. Assholes. The first car to stop was an Asian couple who offered their help. After that, a few cars did stop and offer their help, including one gal who said there were some boys with some pretty big ass trucks on the beach who could probably pull me out. Thanks, but AAA was on its way.

Karma was towed out of the ditch pretty easily, and once we took the mud out of the exhaust pipe, and assessed the damage, it didn’t appear to be too much, just the plastic corner guard on the bumper was ripped off and another dent in the chrome bumper. Phew, no big deal. Only we couldn’t get the van started, and there appeared to be gas dripping out through the exhaust system. Okay, maybe you better tow me to the top of the hill and we’ll try to start it, but no go, engine was too flooded. I was towed to the nearest campground down the street, and he dropped me into my site. It was 7:30pm by this point and no auto shops were open. The tow-truck driver felt it might start in the morning once the gas that flooded the engine evaporated. It didn’t, and I called AAA again for a tow to a repair shop in Ocean Shores, about 22 miles away. Moclips is just a tiny little town with few services. The repair shop was busy so Karma and I had to wait our turn, parked in the back. I stretched out on the bed and read for hours until the mechanic came to fetch us. He couldn’t find any real significant issues, but went through the system methodically, checking for air supply, gas supply, spark, etc. He cleaned the plugs, and put a charger on the battery as we had tried to start it so many times, it was beginning to labour. And then it started. He didn’t see any damages under the van, so the only real damage was the bumper…big whoop. Phew, it could have been so much worse, and I was getting out of this mess with just an $87 bill. He noticed my alternator belt was quite worn, so I had him replace that as well, and then I drove off. I had had visions of a huge bill because I ripped out the transmission, careening downhill backwards in first gear (which I wasn’t even sure of as it all happened so fast). I also had begun planning what I would do if the van was a write-off, fearing the worst. Thankfully, we both came out relatively unscathed, but I have to admit, I was pretty shook up about the whole thing, mostly over what COULD have happened, not what did happen.

So here I sit in my van, writing this post, as the misty Washington fog lays a thick blanket over the town of Ocean Shores. I’m parked at a run-down RV park next to the beach. Checking in was interesting to say the least. The RV park office was in a steam bath of a mini-home(trailer), and the campground owners were an aging overweight drawling bald white guy, and a very aloof Mexican gal carrying an ugly dog in her arms. It took forever to check in, as he asked me the same questions over and over again, and at one point, answered the phone and was talking to both of us at the same time. The dude on the phone didn’t quite know what he wanted and bald white guy had him on speakerphone so we all heard his humming and hawing. Bald white guy apologized for being so scattered, stating that he and the missus had not had any sleep in the last 24 hours…I didn’t ask why…

The park is pretty run-down, with filthy bathrooms that appear to be falling apart. They claim to have internet access, but not at my site, which is not very far from the office. I’ll have to go back to the steam bath and post from there I reckon.

So next stop? I booked into this dump until Saturday when I leave for the Gorge again. Van Morrison plays on Sunday night, but my camping pass is for the whole weekend, so I thought I might go a night early and meet some folks who might be there for the Van show. The weather forecast for the Gorge this weekend is stinking hot at 30C and absolutely no shade at the campground. Good thing beer and ice are dirt cheap in the US…

The Next Chapter of the Journey

August 1st brought a new chapter to this journey of mine. I’ve left the relative comfort of my homeland and am now south of the border in search of music and adventure. I left 4 months ago tomorrow, and I honestly don’t know where the time went. I had been planning this journey for years, and as the time to leave came near, time seemed to crawl…now it is flying by.

I left Victoria on Friday with my hostess, A. and we crossed the border into Washington state that night, and found a space to camp at Walmart. Yes, Walmart. It was safe (so we thought) and easy to find, had open bathrooms all night (24 hour Walmart) and best of all, it was FREE. Just as we were pulling in though, this crackhead idiot came racing over to our van, and said he was hoping there was a man in our van…that conversation could have gone soooo many ways…except he was drunk, disgusting and clearly a crackhead. He wanted help starting up his generator. He also was trying his best in his drunken cracked out state to charm us…it was never going to work. I finally had to tell him to LEAVE ME ALONE and I rolled up the window. Of course, the van chose NOW to not start again….I gave it a couple of tries as asshole was still nattering at my window, and finally had to take a breather, wait for asshole to return to his camper and try again. It started. Phew. We didn’t want to look for another camping place, so drove around the parking lot and parked elsewhere. As expected, the parking lot was full of campers, so we could park far enough away that the crackhead asshole could not see us…and so we popped the top and settled in for the night. We didn’t hear from him again. Phew.

The following day we headed for Chateau Ste Michelle Winery where Ringo Starr and his All Starr Band was going to play that night. We checked out the venue – quite small and intimate – perfect. There were also people lined up to get in, rather early in the morning, camped out in their chairs with their coolers. We left again in search of camping space, liquor and food. After coming up empty with respect to local campgrounds or RV parks, we finally found ourselves in a ball field parking lot, just down the road from the winery. Well, we thought, hmmm, let’s just camp here. We didn’t set up for the night as we didn’t want to be obviously camping in a parking lot, so we had our own little tailgate party for the afternoon, pounded back some liquor and then headed to the concert. Unlike the line-up to get into Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers where we waited for hours for 2 (yes TWO) single people to screen 35,000 people, the winery was smooth and swift. The Sheriffs checked our bags (not very well) and sent us on our way to have our ticket scanned and in less than 5 minutes of line and screening, we were in the concert. They should talk to the Gorge staff…in any event, the show was amazing as expected. The only alcohol available was wine, so we picked up a bottle and settled in. We were to the right of the stage, and had a clear view of everyone, particularly Ringo. I knew every song that was played, and sat down for very little. We left our patch of grass for most of the night to dance just off from the right side of the stage. Not many were dressed up, but there were some Beatles t-shirts and tie dye. And two members from a Canadian Beatles tribute band, wearing Sgt Pepper outfits – they looked awesome. There was also a strip tease from a very drunk fan that was soon cut short by the long arms of the Sheriff. A gal came up and recruited A. for a dancing tour of the audience, but I wanted to stay exactly where I was and was enjoying myself where I was. A. did get noticed, as she found herself in the reserved seating without a seat…Ringo said – “I see you lady!” or something like that. At one point before she left, Ringo was talking to the audience, and there came a short lull in the noise, so I hollered out “I LOVE YOU RINGO!” not realizing how it would carry and not expecting it would stand out that much…but it did and the crowd roared, and Ringo heard me! Sometime later, Ringo left the stage briefly, and exited out the back of the stage, right onto a small balcony that I could see VERY CLEARLY and it was just about 50 feet away or less so I did it again “I LOVE YOU RINGO!” and he turned, and gave ME the peace sign…I cried. I surely did. What an epic moment! I have been a Beatles fan for many, many years and while my heart belongs to John, my second favourite Beatle was Ringo. It was quite a pleasure to hear him drum in person, and to see him truly enjoy what he was doing. He said he goes on tour every couple of years just for fun. He was on the microphone a bit, singing out front, but he doesn’t seem to be as comfortable there, and seemed awkward, rocking from one foot to the other as he danced. When he was at his drum kit, he was very comfortable looking, particularly as the second drummer seemed to be overacting, although it was cool to see them drum in unison, leaning down into the drum kit at the same time.

We walked back to the camper after the show, stopping at the public washrooms on the hiking trail that ran right next to the ballfield. Good call, as there were insane lineups at the concert grounds. Once we came out of the bathroom, A. spotted a young man sitting at the picnic table, writing poetry. It was dark, but he was able to write by the light of the bathrooms, his bicycle leaning against the table. We sat with him for awhile, discussing the meaning of life when it began to rain big fat drops. We excused ourselves as he needed to head home, and returned to the camper to set up for the night. By this time, the parking guards had left the lot (I think others who came after us were charged for parking) and we were alone in the lot. We rehashed the concert for a bit before putting our wine-soaked heads to bed. We packed up in the morning and I dropped A. off at the ferry in Port Angeles, where she took the ferry home to Victoria.

I spent a few hours in town, picking up supplies, and looking for a next destination and finally decided to head west on the 101, and my GPS led me to a beachside campground not too far from town, facing Vancouver Island. The sites are small, but face the beach, which has a beautiful surf to listen to. Unfortunately it is rather expensive, so I won’t be staying long, and booked in for just two nights. There are also some pesky kids who have chosen to play rather loudly in the woods directly behind my camper. They have been at it for hours and hours and after a little break for supper, they are back at it again. I’m very close to becoming a bitch and telling them to find somewhere else to play – like the HUGE DAMN BEACH that is completely empty, or the many OTHER forests that surround the area, anywhere as long as they were not RIGHT BEHIND ME, yelling and screaming. If they were playing quietly, I wouldn’t care, but they have been playing some sort of battle game with some plants they have been ripping up all day, so very aggressive yelling and hollering after each other. Sigh…I just want to listen to the ocean surf, not 8 or 10 kids yelling…

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There is however, electricity and internet, although the internet is PAINFULLY slow, and intermittent. I have taken to writing the posts in Word instead of live on the site, too painful to lose all my work if the site bumps me off.

Gorgeous sunset tonight, and on the way back I stopped at the office and mentioned the noisy children to the staff and they acknowledged that the kids were indeed noisy, and they would speak to their parents as I hadn’t been the first to complain today. Apparently the girls are sisters, and come every summer for a month here, and typically play quietly, but the boys arrived today and as we all know, they change the equation. Suddenly games of “house” or “school” turn into KILL KILL KILL or be killed. In any event, I am hoping for a quieter day tomorrow, or I shall be pulling out.

So there you have it…the next part of this journey will be mostly by myself, going from concert to concert, and taking time to write in-between, and explore the many beaches of the west coast. I’ll be driving down the 101 aka the Gold Coast Highway. Once I get to California, after some time in San Francisco, I plan to head to Malibu in search of Matthew McConaughey…three weeks in a row so far, he has been spotted at Malibu beach, shirtless…I can hardly stand it.