60 Years of Camping, an Evolution

Our experience with the Airstream has me thinking about
redefining the term “camping”.

When I started to go camping as a kid, camping
meant canvas tents without floors, tents that would leak if you touched the
canvas while it was raining, big rectangular sleeping bags, that weighed a ton
and god-fucking-forbid you ever got one wet. No Gore-Tex existed and nothing
stayed dry even when it was dry and don’t get me started on the back packs and
other camping gear all designed to impart the most pain possible in the shortest
amount of time. Things are much better. I have a North Face backpack, it’s
comfortable, tough and I can lug 40-50 lbs on a good day, not that I will, but
I could. I have a synthetic down sleeping bag I bought in the late 80’s for a
$125.00 I’ve slept in it in 10 states, 3 Canadian provinces and a foreign
country…it is and was worth every penny, oh, and it works as well on a sailboat
as it does at 12,000 feet above sea level.

When I was younger, I was a back-packer as in; park the car
at a trailhead, load up and walk on a trail for 5-10 miles, camp and do the
same thing for the next 3 or 4 days. Hard work but refreshing. I’ve back packed
year round, I’ve even done it on skis in the Three Sisters Wilderness and in a
canoe in the Boundary Waters. The Boundary Waters trip included a confrontation
with a bear, a capsized canoe and a wicked rainstorm, I was wet for days and
still had a good time.

We now have a fantastic REI tent, great gear and the ability
to survive almost anything weather wise and still be able to read a Kindle at
one in the morning. We can cook top flight meals, drink good wine and booze, so
with that in mind why take the next step? Who the hell knows?

I have been fascinated with Airstream trailers for as long
as I can remember. Is it the iconic shape, the quality and the longevity? I don’t know I just like them. (We met a woman and her daughter in Big Sur with a 1961 Caravan model Airstream, it looked like new!) Another cool thing is they make people smile, even the bastards driving
three quarter of a million dollar motor coaches like them.

To put my Airstream jones to the test, I worked out a deal with a RV dealer who happens to sell AS. I now have the luxury of using an Airstream for 3 weeks this year, for as few as 3 days or as long as several weeks. Our vacation jaunt to Monterey, Big Sur and the Central Coast in January used 7 of the 21 days.

We thought the 16 foot Bambi was just too small. In retrospect, we brought too much shit with us. Granted 2 people can’t turn around in it, at least not at the same time. The bed is only 48 inches wide and that would have been fun early in our relationship, not so much now, since
getting “some” isn’t the first motivation in mind when I crawl into bed with the Cakes anymore. Almost 16 years of sleeping together does that to a relationship, especially when the female side cranks out 60 hour weeks on a regular basis. A guy has to pick his spots under those conditions. Frustrating at times, but realistic.

Our next trip is in August. Yosemite for a couple of days, a drive over Tioga Pass to Lee Vining, on to Mono Lake and we’ll wrap with several days in the high valleys just south of Mammoth camping off the grid on Forest Service land. We might even try out the natural hot springs in the area. The Airstream on this jaunt will be a 25 foot International, with a genuine
queen sized bed and enough room to turn around at the same time with the dog
sprawled on the floor. Even better it has a stall shower and a full sized fridge! Planning is underway.

Between then and now, we will take the big REI tent to Joshua Tree, Refugio Beach, Lake
Casitas and Anzo-Borrego, reports will be forthcoming.

Semper Fi

Double Jeopardy

The US military deals harshly with its own, despite what the
asshats running for the Republican nomination for President have said about the
“Pissing Marines” in Afghanistan, it wasn’t behavior that will be tolerated in
the USMC.

A friend of mine has a son in the Marines, good kid, two
years of college at UC-Riverside. Joined the Marines a couple of years ago,
after boot Camp he was trained to as an Air-Ground Combat Controller and
assigned to the Air-Ground Combat Center at 29 Palms, he had a security
clearance and dealt with communications and drone mission planning. He was
quickly promoted to Lance Corporal and then to Corporal. He was scheduled to go
to Afghanistan this past April.

In late March of 2011, he broke up with his longtime
girlfriend, got drunk, went off the road, hit a light pole and got a DUI. That
was Friday, he spent that night in the Riverside County lockup. The next day
the Marines picked him up and took him to the brig at 29 Palms and he spent
Saturday and Sunday night in USMC custody. His “Top” picked him up on Monday
afternoon and took him back to the company area, told him to take a shower, get
into a clean uniform and report to the Company Commanders office in 15 minutes.
At a short meeting , he was charged with Article 15 level of punishment,
reduced to private, lost his pay for 90 days, his security clearance was
rescinded and he was restricted to the company area for 90 days. A few weeks
later, he was told he would not be going on his deployment with the Battalion
and he was reassigned to a Marine Infantry Company based at Camp Pendleton.

After he spent a month doing weapons and ammunition inventory, his new Battalion
embarked for their 6 month Pacific cruise, he was on board.

In California it takes 90-120 days to get a DUI case into
court, his civilian attorney couldn’t speed up the process while he was at Camp
Pendleton and ended up getting a delay to cover him during his cruise. When he
got back from the 6 month cruise, he was reassigned to his old unit. When he
reported, the Company Commander and his Top greeted him with open arms, telling
him now that all the bullshit on the DUI was cleared up, they were going to
give him his stripes back, reinstate his security clearance and he could get
back to work, all was forgiven.

When he told them he still had to go to county court on the
DUI, they about shit their utilities. They sent him to the Marine JAG office to
get help. Hopefully this poor kid who has been punished by the Marines won’t be
punished by the state of California too. He is due in Court in the middle of February.

What a trip, man!

Big Sur Coastline

Dudes, the Dog and Gramps in Carmel by the Sea

CA Highway 46 on the road from Cambria to Paso Robles

The Long Awaited Anniversary Trip, the goals were simple and straight forward:

1. See the Grandsons and give them a 2nd Christmas.

2. Take the first step in analyzing whether we want to
invest in an Airstream.

3. Have some down time and fun.

All three missions, accomplished!

We gave the boys each a “bank roll” and it was interesting how they handled the newly minted bills. (Consecutive numbers, BTW) The little one sealed his in an envelope and no matter how many stores we went into he refused to buy anything. The thirteen (soon) year old
folded his into his pocket and ended up buying some camo gear to wear when he
does his soft pellet “combat operations”. The boy’s favorite retail stop was a big Military Surplus store on Highway One just down the road from Moss Landing. If you need anything, I mean
anything, military this place has it. You can buy a deuce and a half if you need one, one pint emergency water pouches with a five year life span, MRE meat sandwiches or a full set of Roman armor complete with Gladius. Hell of a place!

I brought my Dutch oven and the boys and I baked biscuits, could have put more coals on the top, they were close to perfect if not perfectly brown. We had a late lunch one day in Carmel and
the food trading that went on between the two of them was outstanding. “I’ll
give you a piece of my pulled pork sandwich for a chicken tender. Okay, but you
have to give me some garlic fries and one of those pickles. Okay. Wait a minute!
I said fries, not fry!” And on it went.

Additional observations: they never take off
their stocking hats. Hoodies, flannel shirts, oversized tee shirts and jeans
are the kid uniform of today, I couldn’t tell mine from any other kid on the
street. Thank god my kids are readers, noses in books is a very good thing!

We rented a Design Within Reach Airstream Bambi. The
smallest of the Airstream line with every convenience, stove, refrigerator,
furnace, AC, audio/ video system, direct/indirect lighting, full bathroom,
plenty of hot water all stuffed into 16 feet. The bed was long enough, but only
48 inches wide, I had a hell of a time getting into the dinette on the kitchen
side of the unit and I didn’t like sitting on the toilet to shower. It should
have two batteries, rather than one, the furnace fan sucks electricity
like crazy. You learn to conserve water and power, when we were in the RV park
near Carmel, we turned on every light in the trailer and used a gallon of water
to wash off an orange. When we were off grid at Kirk Creek in Big Sur, we lit
the interior with a candle and only popped a light on to find another bottle of
wine. Conservation of energy makes one 12 volt battery last 3 days. The fridge and the water heater are “three way” devices, 12 volt, propane and 110, the trailer had a smart charging system and changed things over automatically. Not much storage and since Jan and I haul
way too much stuff with us along with the dog and his stuff, it was crowded.
After I moved most of my stuff to the Jeep, it was better. The Jeep has a
Tow/Haul mode, when you push the button for T/H the computer takes charge and
readjusts the suspension, the transmission and the engine parameters, all I can
say is WOW! Coupled with the “active cruise control” we went down the grade to
San Luis Obispo and never touched the brakes. The Jeep pulled the Airstream
through Big Sur like it wasn’t there, taking the tight and twistys right at the
speed limit. Old Wally Byam who designed the AS suspension system back in the
30’s knew what he was doing!
We loved the experience and we are going to try a bigger
unit the next time. I think a 25 foot trailer would be perfect. As a side note, the folks in the massive motor coaches do the following; pull into the parking place, hop out, hook up,
climb back in, hit the leveling system, push the buttons for the curtains, the
slides and the satellite dish and you never see them again. Weird.

Kirk Creek is a National Forest Service campground in Big
Sur. Elevation is 114 feet above sea level and since it’s located on a series
of bluffs overlooking the coast, it’s a 114 foot drop to the rocks and beach!
The sites are spacious, it’s clean, there is no phone, no computer, no potable
water, no electricity, it does however have flush toilets. The nearest cell
phone service is 18 miles away at Ragged Point, there are two wide spots in the
road on Highway One, Lucia and Gorda. Gorda has a gas station, 5.75 for regular.
As we drove by on the way to Cambria, I noticed a guy pulling in for gas at Gorda, he was driving a Porsche Cayenne, his big surprise was going to be paying just over 6 bucks for Sup-ah!
Moron!

I learned long ago, buy gas (and everything really) before you head for
Big Sur. It’s isolated, its primitive and the services are few, the upside is
one of the rangers is an EMT.

Big Sur is a wonderful place ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Sur) its magical and we love it. We did the hike from Kirk Creek to the rocky beach at the base of the cliffs. My foot and right leg are still sore.

We ate well, including a tri tip on the little Weber with baked potatoes done in the
coals of our camp fire. Jan drank wine, I drank whiskey. We ate chocolate and
cookies and devoured a half a box of cuties. We listened to music, read books
and I awakened Jan from a dead sleep at 3am to take a walk in the moonlight to
listen to the surf booming on the rocks. A week of going to bed at ten and
getting up at 8 feels pretty damn good. It was a great way to celebrate our
anniversary.

Our last night we spent in Paso Robles, we met Tom and Lana
Cochrun, Mike and Jacque Griffin at the Windward Winery,( http://www.windwardvineyard.com/) tasted wine, met Mark Goldberg the owner/ winemaker, then previewed Lana’s upcoming show of recent paintings and went to dinner at Il Cortile (http://www.ilcortileristorante.com/ICR/Home.html) Outstanding food, outstanding wine, 3 of them from Windward…spectacular friends, conversation, food, wine and warmth. One of the best nights we’ve had in a long time!

Lana Cochrun, after taking years off to teach art and to raise
the Cochrun girls is now painting again, learning and growing, her work is
wonderful and if she’d get off her butt and build a website, there would be a
link! Jan has her eye a lighthouse painting to go with another “Lana” we
already have!

Words of wisdom from Zen Master Phil screws radio show

I heard today the first, I mean the first in a long goddamn time, glimmer of creativity on the radio, Ive heard in the past 3-4 years.

On 710 ESPN, the long drawn out moaning about the Lakers by the hosts, the fans and the damned guests was punctuated by the voice of Phil Jackson, fellow North Dakotan, former double date partner and the first guy I ever knew who drank wine! (Phil drank that swill, Matuese that was sold in clay jugs)

From the audio version of one of Phil's books, with appropriately strange flute music under and appropriate echo, Phil said, "from beyond the beginning of time and the line that flows from the beginning and into the future, forever, there has been the wolf. The wolf is the strength of pack and the pack is the strength of the wolf".

The producer just dropped that nuggget into the chaos of callers and yelling hosts...they were stunned, speechless and then the asshole hosting the show said, "see, I told you, only Phil Jackson can run this team, we need him to come down from his cloud and take charge and, and, and, and, aaaa, and, uh, anyway Jeannie should talk to him, ah i heard he still has his condo, ah, uh, uh, he's the master, man, the master"!

Post Christmas Post

For the 2nd time since we've been together, Jan was down with the flu over Christmas....who does she think she is, what was she thinking? Kidding aside, she soldiered through it and seems to be on the road to recovery, good thing too, because our anniversary is on Saturday and we leave on on our Christmas trip on Sunday. Out of necessity it was a quiet, passive Christmas celebration at our house.

Best present...our new memory foam mattress....wow! I tried the pillow a few months ago and it helped my chronic neck problems. If memory serves me, wasn't memory foam developed by NASA for astronauts seating. If it was, you can add it to the long, long list of things that have made life better through the space program.

I made Jan a Vitamin C Martini on Christmas Eve. Keitel One Vodka, splash of white vermouth, splash of pineapple-orange-banana juice, well shaken and served with a rim crusted with candy cane and vitamin C tablets (after trying it I left the rim alone during the 2nd round) Tasted good and it enhanced Jan's Robitussin high nicely.

When I was a kid, my Mom and Grandmas always made dish after dish for holiday meals. Usually it was the only time of the year that parsnips, turnip and rutabagas were served. Now I do them all roasted in the oven, no boiling. Carrots,turnips, squash, rutabaga, parsnips, doused with olive oil, salt and pepper....love them. We usually have prime rib on Chrismas Eve, since there were just the two of us (our friend Babs showed up,later) I was shopping for a small prme rib, like 3 ribs, smallest I could find was 4, most were 6 or 9 and yes, friends, beef prices have sky rocketed....about 12 bucks a rib by my mental calculations. Bought an organic turkey instead, a three meal, 2 lunch purchase. for 30 bucks. Turkey soup is on the menu tonight.

We have an additional Christmas celebration a week from today in Santa Cruz...the grandsons are spending a couple of days with us in the Airstream. I get the feeling that one of them will be sleeping in the back of the GC....as the dinette is pretty small for a 9 and 13 year old plus a German Shepard. We're keeping our trip internary loose, the Santa Cruz stop is locked in and lunch with Andy McClure and his wife in San Rapheal is too. We found an RV Park surrounded by the Point Reyes National Seashore, we'll base there and visit Jan's wine vendors in Sonoma one day and drive over the hill to Napa the next, we have been invited to park the AS at one of the wineries in Napa.

The final 4 days will be played by ear and the weather, a stop in Big Sur on the way back and if the Cochruns are around we'll make sure to see them in Cambria. Looking forward to holing up the AS with a couple of new books, trying out my Christmas Dutch oven and snuggling with The Cakes and the dog.

My sis Kathy and her husband (the good bro in law) got back from 8 days in London a few days before Christmas...had a spectacular time, only to get back to find Larry's mom in the hospital.

Shit my Grandpa taught me

I have a beautiful wife and I had a stunning revelation at 3:30 AM on Sunday...she snores! Not major league, but Single A at the moment. Promising Rookie. And no, she doesn't believe me.

My lovely Granma Franklin remarked once after I farted in front of her, "I have never done anything like that in my life!" The Judge replied, "Yes, you have" and went back to his book.

Thinking of the old Judge. I was playing with model cars and had set up an obstacle course using knick knacks from the living room on one of Granma's Persian rugs. One of the objects was the tabacco canister from Grandpa's smoking stand. (yes, they had shit like that in the olden days, when people smoked in their own house) as I was crawling around putting my model Corvette through its paces I knocked over the tobacco. I scooped it up off the rug and put it back in the canister. Gramps came home, settled in "his chair" and filled, tamped and put a match to his pipe. Ten seconds didn't go by before he started yelling, "What the hell is going on with my pipe tobacco, dammit?" "A man can't even come home and enjoy his pipe, for crissakes!" He was pissed! He put the pipe down and fired up a cigar and settled in with the afternoon paper. Nothing more was said. The next day he and I hopped in the car to go have breakfast. On the way we stopped at the tobacco shop where he ordered his blend of pipe tobacco. I stood there listening to him rip the ass off the guy who had been selling him cigars and tobacco for years. I'm standing next to grandpa looking at the floor, hearing him say, "Where the hell did that tobacco come from? All the years I've been your customer and you try to sell me shit like that, if I wanted shitty tobacco to smoke in my pipe I'd buy that horseshit Prince Albert! That shit you sold me tasted and smelled like it was mixed with sheep shit, it even smelled like burning wool when I put the match to it, god dammit!" Gramps, got his fresh tobacco, a profuse apology from the shop keeper. When we got back in the car, Gramps said, "I hope you learned something b ack there, you can't let people take advantage of you and when they do, you have to set it straight if you're any kind of a man!" I just looked out the windshield and said, "I got it Gramps"

My Personal Bank Robber

My Personal Bank Robber
I met a woman, a bartender, a blonde with a husky voice. She
was a Texas blonde. This tall, blonde Texan was my spiritual guide in the early
days of my divorce odyssey.
I had changed jobs, changed my life, living in a hotel and spent
most nights on a bar stool across the bar from this guidance counselor blonde.
She was an alcoholic, dry since she had gotten out of prison for armed robbery.
“Armed fucking robbery” I said? “Yep, I was the getaway driver”.
I took her to a movie one night, Bar Fly starring Mickey
Rourke and Faye Dunaway. As we left she said to me “nothing better than being
fucked up in a bar at 2 in the afternoon while everybody’s at work, sometimes I
miss it”.
She introduced me to a local TV anchor babe by telling to
her “this is the only guy who can handle you”. Handle her I did until she
handled me and went off to New York and sent me back to the bar.
I had pneumonia, the bank robber brought me soup and said
“you shouldn’t ride your goddamned motorcycle without a jacket “. She was lying
on the bed next to me, propped up on pillows, her cowboy boots crossed at the
ankles watching MTV, she turned to me and said “White Snake really sucks, Duran
Duran is okay and George Michael is gay”.
She was on the money as usual.
Then, out of the blue she said, “Did I tell you Squeaky
Fromme was my cell mate”? “Ah, no you didn’t”. “Weird little shit, didn’t talk
much, but she was clean and tidy so I didn’t care, the one who was fucked up
was Sara Jane Moore”. I was stunned, my
counselor got up, straightened her side of the bed and said, “I have to get to
work, I’ll check on you later”, she patted me on the head and walked out.
“When I was in college at UT I was a dean’s list girl, but
heavy into pot, booze, pills any damn thing I could drink, smoke, swallow or
snort. I wanted to go to Jamaica on spring break but I didn’t have the money,
one afternoon while completely loaded my friends and I decided to rob a little
savings and loan not far from the campus. One of the guys had a gun, he went in
with my roommate and I drove and we headed for airport and the Caribbean. We
got just over 20k and we drove right by the cop cars flying to the Savings and
Loan. Beginners luck. A year later I was tending bar in St Bart’s and the FBI
showed up. My family tipped them off after my old roomie rolled over on me.
That’s how I ended up with Squeaky as my cellmate. I got 10 and 5 on a federal bank
charges and they paroled me after 4. Best year of my life tending bar in St
Bart’s, although the women’s prison was interesting too”. With that information dispensed she headed off
to class.
Little by little the story seeped out of my counselor. She
had been sentenced to the Federal Women’s Correctional Facility in Dublin
California. After processing she was assigned a cell with Squeaky. She thought
Fromme should have been in a mental institution, but there she was in a prison
with my bank robber. In the same building was Sara Jane Moore who had tried to
finish the job Squeaky had tried to do on President Ford and actually got a
shot off. Squeaky’s gun was loaded but had nothing in the chamber and she
didn’t even point it at him, simply waved it in the air. Sara Jane was
certainly more determined.
My bartender-councilor said her cellmate was quiet and
rather self-contained, so it really blew her mind when Squeaky attacked Julianne
Dusick, the airplane hijacker, with a hammer the next year. She thought it was
out of character; then again Charles Manson was her roomie’s idol, so anything
was possible with Squeaky. Fromme was sent to West Virginia and never got a
chance to say goodbye.
Sara Jane Moore was a jail house lawyer, activist and was
personally invested in holding her jailer’s feet to the fire. Somebody sent her
a food scale and she weighed the servings of food at every meal. If the rules
called for 8 ounces of green vegetables with a meal, there damned well better
be 8 ounces. As big of a pain in the ass as Moore was, she did get a few things
changed for the better. Things like more and better exercise and health care
Better and more nutritional food and she got the girl’s sweat suits to wear
along with running shoes. Moore also lobbied and got newer and R rated movies
in the theater.
There were tough cases in the prison; murderers, attempted
murderers, baby killers, armed robbers along with the run off the mill drug
dealers, swindlers, hookers and white collar criminals. My counselor said the
only prisoners who were delusional about why they were there were the white
collar types, you know the kind that embezzled 4 million from their firm and
weren’t the least bit guilty about it. She said if you asked them ‘how much of
that stolen cash were you able to hide? They just got a small grin on their
faces and walked away, whistling a happy fucking tune”. She said, “the rest
were about as warm, well fed and comfortable as they ever were going to be in
their life as it was going to be even harder when they got out of Dublin. Not
much of a market for a hooker in her mid-40’s with a recharged drug habit who
has spent the better part of life sucking dick in shitty hotel rooms and parked
cars. She sure as hell is not getting a job at K-Mart or as a cashier at a
grocery store, what the hell is she going to do to support herself?” Good point.
It took months of conversation to get her story, she told it
in short, brutal bursts. As far as her going to school and taking classes, she
did it because she liked it, not because she had any delusions about her
future, “anybody going to hire a convicted felon to teach 7th grade?
Didn’t fucking think so.” One day she told me she was going to do a work/apprenticeship
with a furniture builder-restorer-upholsterer. “I am so fucking glad to get
away from the bar, the drunks and the assholes, you’re the exception. I'm so
tired of creeps trying to get in my pants, the manager hinting around for some
naughty action from me at closing time. I am so happy and the first time since
I got out of Dublin I actually feel free!”
I was happy for her, she’d been good to me and a real help
in my life. I really liked her as a human being and she was damn good looking,
tall, strong with classic American looks and she had a nice sense of style. She
looked at me and said, ‘look you son of a bitch, I know what you’re thinking
and don’t think I haven’t thought about it too, but the last thing you need is
a girlfriend who has a year and a half of supervised federal parole left and
then another 5 of unsupervised, you’ll be moving on and when you do I wouldn’t
be able to go with you and my heart has been through enough shit for 5
lifetimes, let’s leave it like it is, okay?” We did and I moved back to Boston
6 months later. She owns her own business today.