WiFi vs. WiVi

Lake Tahoe could be the bluest lake in America.  The atmosphere around the lake is incredible.  There are amazing hikes within a stones throw of our RV.  With that as a basic backdrop, the quote of the day is worth your attention.

“I like our WiFi at home much better than in the RV.”  Evidently WiFi stands for Wireless Fidelity.  Webster defines fidelity as the degree to which an electronic device accurately reproduces its effect.  Mostly what WiFi produces on the screen is actually animation.  There are some reproductions of real images from time to time, but mostly animation.

In a nearly 15 minute walk directly in front of the RV, I was standing on an amazing boulder with an incredible WiVi.  Keith defines WiVi as Wide View.  Above the tree line there was a opening that allowed a view of Lake Tahoe surrounded by the Sierras.  The view was awesome and the sound was as peaceful as you could ever imagine.

Next time you have the choice between an amazing WiFi and an incredible WiVi, choose the WiVi.  You won’t be sorry!

Darwin Had A Point

Charles Darwin might have been right about natural selection.  It seems like he believed that certain elements in a species have attributes that allow them to survive when others might die.  For example, if one rabbit is faster than another, the slower one will become dinner before the faster one will.

I don’t know scientific methodology well enough to be able to justify any conclusions I might make.  But national parks, specifically Yellowstone, could make a strong case for the elimination of the weaker species.

Nearly every piece of paper the park distributes emphasizes the need to maintain a distance of 100 yards from bears and wolves and 25 yards from all other animals.  The literature points out the speed of the animals and the frequency of goring deaths by elk and buffalo.

So we come to a traffic jam with people standing everywhere.  In a moment’s notice, a monster elk darts like lightening across the street.  Not only were the people with small children way too close to the elk, but they followed it along the way. 

Although I disagree with much of what Darwin stood for, I can’t help but believe there are instances when the population probably needs a little thinning.

The Great River

Tradition has it that the Mississippi River name meant the "Great River" to the Chippewa  Indians.  A mystery to Native Americans for years was the source of the Great River.  They journeyed thousands of miles by canoe along the river in pursuit of the headwaters.

All of their pursuits were strenuous and time consuming.

Today, we landed visual evidence of the source of the Great River.

And now you know why they spell it, M.I.S.S.I.S.S........I....P.P.......I,  and the rest of the story!

Recycling Saves Lives

It only took three weeks out west for me to change my religion.  I officially believe in certain situations, recycling is best!  I know, some of you might wonder about the kinder, greener Keith, but people change.

The great beauty of the west is enough to change anyone with an open mind.  And I pride myself in my ability to think beyond my preconceived ideas.

Yesterday, John and I made a discovery that helped me better appreciate the benefits of recycling.  Take note of exhibit 1, the dump station at Grant Village in Yellowstone National Park.  We emptied the BLACK tank (that is the stinky one for you inexperienced RVers) according to procedures.  To our shock and dismay, the scat began to pour back into the concrete overflow receptacle.

About an hour and a half later in our journeys north through the park, we discovered what the block was.  Enter exhibit 2, the Mud Volcano.  I know what you are thinking, “please, do you have to revert to junior high humor?”  But trust me, there was a large pump and a whirring sound down around Grant Village and the smell and the color of the evidence at Mud Volcano gives me great confidence that the recycling efforts at Yellowstone are not only saving lives, but an American Treasure.

Think about it on your next trip west.  And don’t forget to recycle!

Rubbin' is Racin'

It is a normal day at work for Jeff Gordon or Kyle Busch to have someone else's paint on one of their quarter panels or to find themselves spinning around the end of a race track after pushing the limits of their car.  I find it a bit unusual for me to ever push the limits of the possibilities of life.

I don't know if that is because of religion, education, the way I was raised or fear of the unknown.  But what I do know, is that life is short and it ends.  Allowing the fear of possible negative results to cause you to avoid all possibilities with incredible opportunities is a foolish way to live.  I am not suggesting you throw caution completely to the wind, but most of us aren't going to race 200 miles per hour around an oval anyway.  But would you take a day off work and say pay for everything the entire day during your adventure with your change jar?  Or would you drive to Chicago and not have a hotel reservation for the night?  Or would you quit a job without having one lined up?  None of these things in the big scheme of life are really that huge, but can often be the unusual, maybe awkward things that can limit us.

On this trip and others, I know things that limit me are tight spaces, the fear of tight spaces, parking in the dark, the possibility of wrong turns that will land me in a dead end.  But I have worked through this fear as insignificant as it really is in life.  Kelly has helped direct me in a number of spaces and we have maneuvered through some very tight areas.  For example, the Helmcken Falls is arguably one of the most beautiful falls in British Columbia and I am fairly confident in years gone by I would not have risked taking the big rig to the viewing area.  But not this year!

Then there was Coquihalla Canyon Provincial Park in Hope, British Columbia.  Exit 183 off of highway 5 would lead you to expect to hear some Dueling Banjos playing in the distance and the road was narrow and seemingly not one any large trucks or RVs had recently traveled.  The entrance to the park was equally as intimidating with low hanging limbs and the description I was given in advance was "if the fence is chain locked, park and go in anyway!"  But once we turned the final corner, it was a normal park with plenty of RV parking.  Connie even said this was her favorite place on the trip so far.  If you are ever in the area, go see the Othello Tunnels, they are a special treat!

I can read your mind.  "Oh yeh, you pushed the envelope and everything worked out just fine.  Just wait, your time is coming."  Well, you are probably right, but I wonder what, "my time" might really mean?  Quite possibly I might get stuck somewhere, maybe have to back up and block traffic, possibly even see a body shop.  But are these the kind of possibilities that would keep someone on the interstate their entire life?  I am telling you, life is not on the interstate.  Life happens off the beaten path and staying with the crowd may cause you to miss it!

So less than 4 hours after the amazing Othello Tunnels, we landed at Tynehead RV camp in the dark.  Not only was it in the dark, it was packed as tight as a can of sardines.  Ever the expert, I had help pulling in the camp site.  It was 90 degree left hand turn with little space to swing wide into it.  We moved the picnic table over to create a little more space on the right and I swung over to the newly created area.  As I inched forward, I heard the dreaded sound of crunching metal.  It was not on the right hand side, but the left.  The power post was positioned fairly close to the back of the space and I didn't turn wide enough around it and rubbed paint with it.

You might guess, my anxiety level peaked momentarily, but given time, I was able to let my emotions settle and begin planning our next day in Vancouver.  The fear of that dent might have caused me to avoid Vancouver, but it wouldn't have been worth it!

(As I was sitting here writing this, our neighbor at the campsite, Collins Maxfield, introduced himself to me and reinforced everything I just said.  He took his rig on California Highway 1 with a tow car and pushed his muffler up on one of the turns.  The rig he is in has a feature that on occasion it heats up to clean out the diesel and once he pushed up the muffler, the next time it heated up, it melted a bunch of the fiberglass.  He didn't say it, but he is probably fortunate they didn't get carbon monoxide poisoning.  He also had a stroke last year and was thankful he has lived as he has.)

Belly Flops

Kacie spotted the sign:  “Free Jelly Belly Tours”.  We were still in San Francisco traffic at 9pm and the idea of circling back 20 minutes was not appealing to me at all.  However, after a good night’s sleep, I felt invincible and ready to do a belly flop back into California traffic.

A stop at Camping World for a hand proved futile, they were too busy, and so we moved onward to Fairfield.  Once at the Jelly Belly factory, we were welcomed by one of my favorite aspects of life, a Disney like snake line.  It would only be 45 minutes to discover how a Jelly Belly was actually made.

 

We were reminded of President Reagan’s love of Jelly Bellys and discovered many fun insights.  The kids were thankful for the tour and enjoyed some candy.

Then we belly flopped back on the I-80 which resembled downtown Indianapolis traffic after a Colts game.  It was only about 45 miles of traffic to Sacramento.  I finally took highway 50 out of Sacramento to approach South Tahoe.  To my enjoyment another 40 miles of traffic loomed before I entered winding, ascending roads into the Sierra’s for another 50 or so miles.  The views were incredible and then we entered the Gatlinburg like traffic of South Tahoe with no camp ground in mind.

We crept out of South Tahoe towards Reno before landing at Zephyr Cove RV Resort.  This place is awesome.  It is a 5 minute walk to the Tahoe beach and has a peaceful campsite with plenty of activity for all of the kids.  Caleb particularly likes the big boulders.

He scaled some of the biggest ones before skinning his knee on a seeming pebble.  As we explored the boulders we discovered the reality that a forest fire had swept through these parts at one time.  A conversation with a waiter explained the source of the fires, Gondola Fire.  Evidently someone tossed a cigarette butt from the Gondola and set about 40 acres on fire.

But more interesting than that was the Lizard Tail Fire.  Any guesses of the origin of that particular fire?  Supposedly a hobby of some of the bored area youths is to dip a lizard’s tail in gasoline, ignite it and watch it scamper around in the dark.  (I am fairly sure the Midwesterners who have cow-tipped have no reason to accept the condescension of westerners!)  This particular lizard ignited the forest and I am sure left some teenagers with some explaining!

The crew agreed to spend another night at this peaceful location!

Honey Badger aint afraid of No 40 Miles

It was only a 40 mile drive!  We left the Petaluma, CA KOA early and pointed the rig at the Wharf in San Francisco.  Most of the advisories I found on the internet suggested this was a foolish and futile endeavor.  But this honey badger isn't afraid of six lane traffic, big bridges, fog, narrow roads, hills that cause Lance Armstrong to quiver or going the wrong way on a one way street!



We had the advantage of having parked at the Wharf a year ago and knew an early morning arrival would allow a parking place for an RV.  However, last year we approached the parking lot from the south without the obstacle of the Golden Gate Bridge.  This morning's approach was from the north and involved a foggy approach across the Golden wonder and a huge amount of faith in the GPS not leading us to the famous Lombard Street drive.

Believe it or not, Lombard Street was on our approach, but thankfully we dodged before the big one was an issue.  We arrived at the Wharf parking lot early enough to find a nearly empty lot and a parking place with our name on it.

Next we were off to the Haight-Ashbury area.  We opted to enter this area through the San Francisco public transportation offerings.  The street car ride lasted all of 3 blocks before it ended at the bus stop.  We boarded the waiting bus and arrived at 3rd and Market in time to jump the 71.  The 71 landed us at Haight and Maonic and we walked to lunch from there.  The give away to this event was the meal.  The public transportation was far from lightening quick, but what it lacked in speed it more than covered in educational value to the Tyner kids.  It is difficult to know if the lessons they learned during this adventure will soon be removed from their memories or whether the scars will go with them all of their days.

The shopping frenzy that was expected in this hip part of town was a flop.  Not a single piece of awesomeness was added to anyone's wardrobe although Caleb did have his eyes on a groovy fedora.

Since the snail like delivery of the public transportation would likely have expended the rest of our day, we opted for a taxi ride back to the Wharf.  As I flagged a passing cab and asked how many he could fit in his car, he replied, "how many are there of you?"  There were legitimately 4 seats and amazingly all 7 of us landed in this limo.  He was an entertaining driver with a natural distaste for leaf blowers, who took the initiative to take us down Lombard Street on our approach to the ever popular Ghiradelli Square.

Ghiradelli is always a hit when in San Fran and after an ice cream break, we stopped back at the RV for a break and additional clothes; the Bay Area wind was a little much.

The girls went one direction and the boys another.  The shopping had begun in earnest at this point and the knick knack shops around the wharf  were at war with one another for the Tyner kid's bankroll.  A few T-shirts and sweatshirts later and we rendezvoused back at the rig.

This time we had a surprise guest, Brian McGuckin.  We shared some war stories with him, admired some of his photos and grabbed a quick bite for dinner before parting ways.  It was enough time for Brian to get a good smell of Caleb though!

We departed the Bay Area on the Bay Bridge and took a short drive to our campsite.  Ahhhhh....rest after a busy day!  Really, I think it was those 40 miles that wore me out!