Author: mchazen

The last two days were spent cleaning the coach and running errands.

Yesterday was workout day and it was nice doing morning Pilates outside without freezing.  It was probably about the same temperature as a Florida morning but without the humidity.  At the end of the run our clothes were almost bone dry.  Maybe we should soak our t-shirts in water before running to keep cool.  What a difference 3,000 miles can make.

We were only somewhat aware of how dirty the motorhome was.  Although Jeanne regularly cleans the inside, opportunities to clean the outside and few and far between.  Our visit to the Monaco plant in Indiana was the last time the outside was washed and it was much dirtier than expected.  It seems the brown color does a good job hiding the grime.  Anyway, after running some errands yesterday morning, I got out the bucket and brush and got after it.  The day was warm, over 80 degrees and it was a hot, sweaty job.  At the end of it all, the coach looked brand new.

Jeanne and picturesque sunset on a January evening in Indio, California.

Rear of the coach after washing and waxing. Notice reflection of Jeep.

Front of the coach after cleaning.

A clean coach and Jeep in Indio, California.

In the one-thing-leads-to-another department, during an oil change on the Jeep a technician discovered the serpentine belt had a major split running through almost a quarter of its length.  It was not a major repair, but we are glad to have caught it before getting stuck in the middle of nowhere.  If this one-and-only belt breaks, the Jeep stops running.  Period.

In the sometimes-things-work-as-promised department, the Alcoa-brand bottle of polish for aluminum wheels we bought at the FMCA rally worked perfectly.  Our aluminum wheels are so shiny, they will blind anyone foolish enough to look directly at them.

Jeanne took some time one afternoon to defrost the other side of the freezer.  We had defrosted the one side in Santa Paula but discovered the other side had also frosted up.  The back of the freezer had a glacier stuck to it.  This is something we’ll have to pay more attention to, especially if we return to humid weather.

Readers of this log might wonder what the big deal is about cleaning our equipment.  The deal is that the constant use of travel exacts a heavy toll.  Our vehicles are always outdoors, usually in a dirty environment and maintenance is a constant problem.  If either vehicle goes out of service, it can tie us up for days.  Now I know why the military spends so much time, money and effort maintaining equipment.  Even if it is something small, it needs to be addressed immediately.

All this maintenance was suppose to have been done our last week in Santa Paula, but the weather just didn’t cooperate.  At least the pause here in Indio was put to good use.  We now feel ready for another year of travel.  Hopefully, we’ll have a day or so to explore this area before moving on.  The weather here is nice this time of year, but this is the low desert and it turns into a furnace around the end of May.

To be sure, cleaning the equipment is moderate physical labor that doesn’t take a lot of thought.  Eventually your mind begins to wander and reflect.  The irony is both Jeanne and I were somewhat successful in our corporate careers.  We had the opportunity to work with very talented and motivated people.  It was rewarding, exciting and challenging.  Some people might say I was an executive of sorts.  It didn’t feel like it at the time, but maybe attending endless meetings and marginally helping guide an organization from a financial perspective may qualify.  At least Jeanne and I tried to give a good effort at work.  Now, here I am washing my motorhome on a sunny Wednesday afternoon in Indio, California.  My how things change!  I’m king of the bucket and brush and for the first time in many, many years, I can see a tangible result of my efforts.  How can you stand back and admire accounting records maintained by some corporate general ledger system?  Today, I can see the aluminum rims gleam in the January sunshine.  What a sense of accomplishment!

How long will this last?  Will this hold our attention for the next 20 years?  Will the day arrive when we will long for the challenge of the working world?  Who knows?  I can only conclude that what we are doing is o.k. for now and for the next 45 days that Jeanne has already scheduled.  It feels strange.  The fact is we achieved our lifetime goal of independence — but what now?

When we figure it out, dear readers, you’ll be the first to know.  For now, I’ll go back to cleaning the coach.

Another beautiful day.

From sunup to sundown we were cleaning.  For Jeanne, it was cleaning the inside of the coach and ironing yesterday’s seven loads of wash.  I washed and polished the outside of the Jeep and washed the top of the coach.  The buffer we bought at Sears worked great and the Jeep looks almost as good as new.

The last time we washed the coach was in Indiana, which was August.  The top was so dirty, I was slipping around in the mud.  The several layers of dirt, dust, road grime, bird droppings and pine needles was a mess.  I even ran out of Simple Green.  Eventually it came clean and the sides are ready to wash tomorrow.

Jeanne scheduled us out for the next 45 days.  This is harder than you would think; some is art, some is luck and some is intuition.  Somehow it is reassuring knowing where we will be living for the next month and a half.

At the end of the day, we were tired.  Once again we grilled some fish for dinner.

The evening was spent updating the computers and planning our route.

We woke early and the day was picture perfect blue skies.

No more excuses – the workouts resume TODAY!  After two cups of coffee I got up enough oomph to get started.  It was the first time in a week for me and several weeks for Jeanne.  It wasn’t pretty, but we did get through it and vow to get back on a regular program.

After cleaning up, Jeanne got after the laundry and I headed to blast the last of the mud off the Jeep and stop at Walmart for some car polish.  Over the past few days, we were amazed to find there was still mud in many of the nooks and crannies of the Jeep.  I even blasted the floor mats, liberating waves of mud and rocks.

Returning to the coach, Jeanne was still getting through seven loads of laundry.  I got after cleaning the inside of the Jeep, which was not done since we left Arkansas.  We finally bagged it around 5:00 PM to grill some salmon for dinner.  The fish was a real treat.  Again, thanks to Walmart, we’re back on our regular eating habits.  We were sick of fast food.

We settled in for the night and watched a program on the History Channel on the French Revolution.

We woke to another sunny day in Indio, California.

Today was the last day of the rally and rigs started pulling out as soon as the sun came up.  Since we were located at the front gate, for most of the morning we were under a great cloud of dust.  It can’t hurt us any more, the rig is covered with mud from our Escape From Ventura episode.

We needed to hang around until 11:00 AM, which is our appointment to have the coach weighed.  The process is simple: you pull into the level area where the service is set up, drive onto four scales – one at each wheel position and get your weight recorded.  The big moment arrived and we were happy to find we were both underweight and the load was well balanced.  In fact, there was less than 75 pounds difference between the real wheel positions, which is about as close as you can get it.  Bottom line: we can add over 2,000 pounds of weight and still be within specification.  This includes a full water, fuel and propane tank.  The report was good news and a great relief.

The RV park is almost within walking distance of the rally and the drive took only a few minutes.  We quickly set up and the first order of business was blasting the mud off the coach wheels.  It was almost two inches deep in places.  The process left one hell of a mess on the asphalt.  Later during our stay, I’ll see about removing the mud from the inside rims.

The park has full hookups and cable TV.  What luxury.  After our Ventura experience and FMCA rally, we’re ready for some easy living for a while.  The three pools, kept at a tepid 85 degrees, were put to good use.  January 16 and we’re floating in a pool.  Life is good.

We went to bed early, anticipating a busy day tomorrow.

When we finally rolled out of bed around 7:00 AM, the sun was shining and the day promised to be clear and warm.

After a quick breakfast, I found Ray and spent some time discussing the finer points of wireless internet connections.  We then took a walk around the area to determine exactly where we would get the coach weighed tomorrow morning.

In much of the RV safety literature, the importance to load balancing and tire maintenance comes up again and again.  The bottom line is tire inflation is dependent on the load they are carrying and overloading, overinflation or underinflation can be dangerous in extreme situations.  It turns out the only way to properly check the weight of the coach and adjust tire pressure is to weigh each wheel position independently.  Normally this is difficult and expensive, but the FMCA provides a co-pay for the test at their rallies.  We took advantage of the program and will get the coach weighed tomorrow.  In view of all the stuff we off-loaded during our stay in Santa Paula, I don’t anticipate we’ll be overloaded.  It will be interesting.

After a quick lunch at the coach we attended a seminar on satellite TV dishes hosted by the maker of our unit, KVH.  It was informative and we learned a few things.  Most interesting was the impact of moisture on the dish dome.  I had no idea how much a little morning dew could degrade a satellite signal.

We also spent about two hours with Bud, Joanne and Steve at their coach.  They are great people and we really enjoyed the visit.

Every day has it’s challenges and today was the motor-mouth at Starbucks.  We located a Starbucks for our internet connection and set up at one of the tables to download messages.  Shortly after arriving, a man and woman sat at the next table and began to visit.  This gal just couldn’t shut up.  It was incredible.  Miss jaws-of-steel jabbered nonstop for an hour and literally drove us out of the cafe.  Once in a while I would shoot a sideways glance at the poor guy who was politely listening to her blather and he would return a rather pained look.  For his sake, I hope it wasn’t the blind date from hell.  Wow, our ears are still ringing.  How could there be that much drama in anyone’s life?

The rally entertainment for tonight featured John Davidson and Jeanne was looking forward to the show.  We arrived to find a packed house.  Unfortunately, we were underwhelmed by his performance and left early.  It was a disappointment.

We spent the remainder of the evening reading and working with the computers.

The FMCA rally is great.

First of all, we met up with friends from the hunting and fishing club: Ray and Donna; Jim and Joyce; Dennis and Susan; Bud, Joanne and Steve.  It was good seeing them all again and we caught up on things over dinner at a local Indian Casino.  Everyone seems to be doing well.

With over 1,700 rigs attending, this is a huge rally.  With some of the rigs literally parked in mud, we realize how lucky we are to be parked on grass with an electrical hookup.  Even with the sprinklers going on every night, it’s not bad.

We finally got the chance to spray-wash the Jeep.  What a mess.  The picture on this site doesn’t do it justice, there were two layers of mud added the day we left Santa Paula.  In the dry desert air, the mud dried and was hard to get off.  It looks clean in comparison, but we’ll have to get after it again.  At least passers-by have stopped commenting on it.

The classes we attended are interesting.  Alcoa is here and the seminar on aluminum wheels was informative.  So was the seminar on awnings, which I will now pay more attention to.  The Allison Transmission class quickly fell apart when the audience off 350 cranky old guys started shooting questions at the presenter.  The Allison guy was knowledgeable, but he lost control.

A roadrunner visits our spot at the FMCA rally in Indio, California.

Float' in the '50s parade at FMCA rally.

Has anybody seen Elvis?

Jeanne with slightly annoyed look, posing for pictures at FMCA rally.

Somewhat less annoyed, Jeanne poses for picture.

Our friend Ray driving water truck.

The theme of the rally is the Nifty 50s and various FMCA chapters participated in a parade.  Although everyone was fully clothed, some of what we saw was not fit for publishing on this site.  There are a few pictures out there for anyone interested.  Elvis seemed to be a big hit.

Now that we have attended a few of these rallies, Jeanne and I feel we are on the leading-edge of the baby-boomers about to retire.  Flashing on this, we speculated on future themes for FMCA parades.  The Summer of Love?  Woodstock Revival?  Flower Power?  Maybe the factory representative from Zig-Zag will host a seminar.  One thing is certain, I won’t have enough hair to pull into a ponytail.

Nirvana!  There is a brand new Walmart Supercenter in Indio and it looks like the locals haven’t really discovered it yet.  We went shopping and what would have cost us $150 at Vons we bought at Walmart for $96.  Ever so slowly, Walmart is moving into Southern California.  Best of all, it will be only a few blocks from our campsite over the next ten days.

We woke to another sunny day.

After a quick cup of coffee, we jumped into the Jeep and scouted the way out.  Bottom line, the road out was barely passable but worth a try.  On our return to the coach, we saw a crack had developed about 15 feet from the edge of the cliff.  Yep, another section would soon be on its way to the Pacific, but we weren’t going to wait around to see it.  Time to leave.  C-Yah.  Adios.  We’re outta here.

It is strange how things work out.  Today was the day we were scheduled to leave; our departure date had been set almost three months ago and our destination was an FMCA rally in Indio, California about 200 miles due east right through the worst traffic in Los Angeles.  I wasn’t looking forward to the drive and the road closures from the storm would only complicate matters.  By 7:00 AM, we were ready to leave.  I would be driving the coach with Jeanne following behind in the Jeep.  To distribute the weight, we didn’t want to hook-up the Jeep until we rendezvoused at the K-Mart in Santa Paula.  We would use the walkie-talkies to communicate.  I thought about writing my social security number on my arms and legs in case the coach crashed into the river and I was dismembered.

Here were the obstacles:  The sharp turn getting out of the too-small emergency campsite; the infamous cliff; the undermined country road; the shaky-at-best bridge; the one-lane-is-gone highway; the unstable ready-to-break-loose hillside; the hub-deep suck-your-shoes-off mud.

With no alternative and a turn of the key, 330 horses got ready to move the coach.  One last look at the gauges, especially the pressure in the air-brake system, and we started to move.

I stopped to say goodbye to the campground manager.  We wished each other well, but I was shocked to hear he not only decided to stay, but was moving to a spot near the edge of the cliff.  What the hell was he thinking!?  There is only one solution — get the hell out of there asap.  The rainy season ain’t over.  Well, most problems in life are self-inflicted.

We took it slow.  Each obstacle was fraught with danger and worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind.  I was ‘feeling’ the wheel for anything unusual – like a sudden loss of all directional stability.  One by one, we got by each section.  I can’t say which was the worst since they were each equally bad in my mind.  At our glacial velocity, it took about 30 minutes to reach safety.  Finally it was over.  We were out of danger.  What a relief!

As planned, we met at the K-Mart parking lot basking in our good fortune.  We dodged the bullet this time.  We could reflect on our adventure later, we had a long drive ahead of us.  After hooking up the Jeep, we were on our way.  Little did we know the day was far from over.

With many of the major highways closed, all the traffic heading our general direction ended up on Highway 101.  The drive across the San Fernando Valley as awful.  It was a good reminder why we left Los Angeles.  After stopping for fuel, finding a place to dump the tanks and driving around road closures, we finally got to the rally around 4:30 PM.  Lo and Behold, many of the parking areas were flooded from the rain and coaches were lined up trying to get in.  We were last in line.  Finally, we caught a break and they parked us on the lawn right at the front gate.  We even had power on a 30-amp circuit.  We set up for the night under date palms gently swaying in the desert breeze.  The place certainly had a Baghdad look about it.

That night, we slept the sound sleep of the redeemed.

Contemporary Note:  After thirty years of marriage, I realize Jeanne is a realist that confronts challenges.  There isn’t much that she can’t deal with and she took the flood scenario in stride.  I am truly fortunate to have such a life partner.

Driving to Indio we talked about the ordeal.  When she asked “What would we do if coach fell into the river?”  

I envisioned the coach floating down the river towards the blue waters of the Pacific and responded “Call the insurance company”.

We woke to bright sunshine and blue skies.  There wasn’t a cloud anywhere on the horizon and a light breeze was blowing.  What a relief!  Shortly after sunup, we could hear the sweet sounds of CalTrans working on the road.

We scouted the area and found the bridge still standing, but the narrow road to the campground looked dangerously undermined in several sections.  Some of the mud would have to be cleared before we could get the coach out.  Looking across the river, we could see CalTrans clearing the highway and setting cones around the narrow sections.  Around noon, another part of roadway fell into the river and was swept away.  I didn’t like the idea of driving a 31,000 pound vehicle over what was left.

Looking across the river from our campsite, people walking over section of roadway washed out by the river. Notice how high the water was at the time of the washout.

Closeup of the walkers, notice how much of the road was undermined. This is typical for the roads in this area.

Wide angle view of the river and road. It is still a pretty area despite the damage.

Jeanne relaxing by the side of the coach on the first sunny day in weeks.

By the end of the next day, the Jeep got one more layer of mud.

Scenic picture of the campground, you would never know it was almost washed out by the flood.

Around noon, the campground management announced they had ‘stabilized the cliff’ and asked everyone to return to their original campsites.  The needle on our bullshit meter went into the red zone and we decided to see for ourselves.  You could see the cliff from a remote part of the campground reachable on foot.  After a determined hike, we reached it to find the river was washing against the cliff at the worst possible spot.  Taking one last look before heading back, Jeanne saw a sizable portion of the cliff break away and fall into the water.  In an instant, river washed away every molecule.  At that moment we decided to leave asap; if any more of the cliff broke away, it would take the road with it and any hope of us leaving before April 2007.  The only thing holding us back was how long it took CalTrans to clear the way.  One thing was certain, we were not returning to our former campsite nor were we going anywhere near the edge of the cliff.

Returning to the coach, we prepared to leave.  All we had to do was air-up, pull the slides and get rolling.

That afternoon, a really scary-looking guy appeared on a motorcycle covered with mud.  When the rider removed his helmet we were relived to see it was Andy.  He told us the road was not passable yet, but would probably be ready in the morning.  Farther up the canyon, the road was impassable and repairs would be a major effort, taking months to complete.  Also, all the major highways through the area were closed except Highway 101 heading south to Los Angeles.  We thanked him for his efforts and asked him to be careful on the way back.

By this time, the Jeep was a muddy mess, inside and out.  The mud had been applied in layers and was beginning to dry into a crackled pattern where the sun dried it out.  Without a doubt, it was the dirtiest vehicle I had ever driven.  We now appreciate the qualities of Jeeps and their 4-Wheel Drive capabilities.  The Jeep never let us down.

We spent the night restlessly listening to the boulders rolling down the river and hoping the cliff would hold out for one more day.

Andy woke us about 5:30 and said he needed to get his three kids staying with his ex-wife in Ventura.  The area his ex was living in was close to the river and was being evacuated — the kids would be safer with Andy in Santa Paula.  We left for Ventura in his work truck.

It was raining hard, but the freeway was still open.  After arriving, Andy’s ex asked if we would also take her daughter who was a half-sister to the grandkids.  Making room in the truck, off we went with the four kids.  On the return trip, one of the drainage ditches was clogged with debris.  Right before our eyes, in the space of just a few minutes, the orange groves flooded and water cascaded over the freeway.  Without seeing it firsthand, I wouldn’t believed it could happen that fast.  We were one of the last vehicles through before the freeway was closed.

The day passed slowly.  We watched the kids use the PlayStation, play with Yo-Yos and surf the internet.  From time to time we would get news updates and it seemed the rain was slowly leaving the area.  When we heard that Santa Paula was cut off in all directions, we headed to town to fuel the Jeep and buy some groceries.

That afternoon, Jeanne and I decided to scout the route to the coach.  A CalTrans truck blocked the road, but after explaining our situation we were allowed to pass.  The driver warned us the road was marginal at best and that we were on our own.  We were about to find out just how bad it really was.

The road was a sloppy mess.  The narrow path that had been plowed through the mud was filled with a half-mud/half-water mixture that reminded me of the liquid clay used cast pottery.  It was slick as snot and we put the Jeep in 4-Wheel Drive Low to get through it.  We almost stuck the Jeep.  A little way past the mud, we discovered half the road had washed into the river.  We carefully picked our way through the section; just inches between rushing water and an unstable hillside.

After what seemed like hours, we turned onto the road that would cross the river.  Was the bridge still there?  Would we have to try to turn around and get back out?  Was the road behind us still passable?  One thing was certain, if we slipped off the road into the water, we were good as dead.  We kept this thought in mind as we neared the bridge.

Salvation is at hand!  The Bridge Still Stands!

After scouting the bridge on foot we determined the bridge was safe for driving.  We drove across, careful not to linger a moment longer than needed.  Arriving at the campground, we discovered the river had changed course and was washing directly into the foot of the cliff at the campground.  A huge section of the cliff had already broken off and slid into the river forcing the evacuation of several campsites along the edge.  There was only about 40 feet between our rig and the watery abyss.  It was decision time.  With the water receding, we decided to stay put for the night.  Jeanne said “if those three trees along the edge go over, then we’ll move”.  I agreed and we settled for the night.  We were nervous and every boulder rolling down the river put us on full alert.  Around 8:00 PM, there was a tremendous crash that shook the coach.  Bottom line, another 15 feet of the campground broke off and the three trees were on their way to the Pacific Ocean.  It was time to move the coach – immediately.  Right Now!  Despite the rain and darkness, we were out of the campsite in record time.

We spent the rest of the evening in a section of the campground that was relatively safe.  We were not in imminent danger, but without fresh water, power or a septic system, life would get ugly real fast.  Oh yeah, there was also no phone, TV or internet.  There was only one thing left to do — lie awake all night and worry about it.

Contemporary Note:  In retrospect, the freeway flooding was a very dangerous situation.  Once the drainage clogged up, water immediately started coming across the freeway — the water was fast, deep and sweeping all sorts to debris onto the roadway.  I can’t begin to describe how quickly this all happened.  If you are ever in a similar situation, find some high ground and wait it out.

It had been raining all night.  Pouring would be a better description.  We now realized this would be a major rainstorm and there was the remote possibility we would get stuck at the campground for a few days.  For readers not familiar with Santa Paula, here’s the situation:

Santa Paula is about 15 minutes inland from the ocean and nestled in a valley with rugged mountains to the north and hills to the south.  The campground was located in the mountains to the north of town and to reach it you need to cross one of the few bridges across the Santa Paula river.  This ‘River’ is usually nothing more than a trickle fed by springs; in the summer it is not unusual for the river to completely dry up.  Typical of Southern California, the soils are mostly clay and shale that become unstable when saturated with water.

In the winter, the mountains catch slow-moving storms coming in from the Pacific.  Usually the dry ground soaks up the gentle rain without a problem.  However, when a series of storms saturates the ground, the excess water drains into narrow canyons and the dry streambeds become rushing torrents that erode riverbeds and undermine roads.  Hillsides turn to mud and begin to slide.  You get the idea.

The campground we are staying at is at just such a location.  To reach it you need to travel into a narrow canyon along the west bank of the Santa Paula river, cross the river on one of the few bridges and then take another narrow road along the east bank.  The campground is on a cliff overlooking the river.  About 50 feet from where we were camped the cliff drops at least 100 feet to the riverbed below.  Heavy rains in prior years had already caused part of the cliff to break away forcing the road to be re-routed through the campground.  The stage was set for disaster.

Today was the last day for Jeanne to spend with baby Erika, so we decided to head for CeeCee’s.  One glance at the river and we were alarmed; the river was already a rushing, muddy mess roaring down the canyon at 30 mph.  Crossing the bridge and turning onto the highway, we saw water flowing across the roadway.  It could be crossed and putting the Jeep in 4-Wheel Drive, we just made it through the bad sections.  It was raining hard.

We made it to CeeCee’s and watched the weather worsen all day long.  The TV news reports were grim.  While it was still light, we headed for the coach with little hope of getting there.  At least we turned off most of the systems before leaving so the coach could take care of itself for a few days.

One glance at the river and we knew returning was not an option.  Sure enough, the CHP had closed the road.  We worried that the bridge had washed out because if it did, we could be stuck for months.  We ended up spending the night with Andy and Dannette.  There was nothing left to do but wait out the storm.