California or Bust!
We started our trip from Glacier last Thursday, July 28. That was three weeks to the day since we left North Carolina. I took it slowly up and down numerous mountains at grades up to 7%; no need to overheat things.
We headed south from Glacier through Helena toward Salt Lake City, and spent Thursday night in Pocatello, Idaho, at a small campground. The first thing I noticed was that we had returned to the land of normal summer temperatures: it was in the high 80’s, and it took some time for us to adjust. The campground offered a special snack for the evening: baked potato with any toppings for $3.99. I thought that was unusual until I remembered the state where we were.
Friday, I drove to Salt Lake City, about 15 miles past the turn off for our route to Sacramento, so that I could visit Camping World. They run a bunch of stores across the country which specialize in RV camping supplies. I wanted a sanitizing kit for the RV’s fresh water system, a small propane tank (1 gallon) for the barbecue grill, and one of those hokey maps of the U.S. where you stick the states on which you have visited. I have had the trailer four months, and it’s been in nineteen states so far! I’ll post a picture of the map when it is done.
After shopping, we backtracked north to I-80, which we took west toward Sacramento. That brought us through Salt Lake City (the Mormon Temple is visible six miles away from the Interstate, and it is very impressive). There is a huge industry to harvest salt from the lake, and Morton, Cargill and others have huge factories on the south end of the lake. Wal*Mart trucks make direct pickups there, probably of water softener salt. Mountains of it!
We soon left Utah, and entered northern Nevada. The first thing I noticed is that every hole-in-the-wall has slot machines; and most gas stations are casinos! To be fair, Montana now has casinos everywhere, too. In Utah, we had several very quick, very heavy rainstorms which reduced visibility to a few feet. That forced me to slow to 20 miles per hour, since we don’t stop very fast on wet roads. Unfortunately, some people headed east on 80 kept following too closely, at 75 mph, right through the storms and got into a huge wreck. Seventeen cars and trucks; four fatalities; four helicopter lifts to the hospital and at least five filled ambulances which came east towards us, and unknown ambulances heading west. It happened 15 miles from any town, and it shut down I-80 for two hours before we could move again. Unlike similar wrecks I’ve seen in New Jersey and New York, where everyone fills all lanes and both shoulders so as to be the very first one through when the road is re-opened, here we all stayed in a single lane, leaving the other lane and both shoulders open for the police and fire departments.
One poor, misplaced soul was a fire fighter who was in our pack of cars, which I later measured to be three miles from the scene. She was not part of the emergency response team, and that irked her. I think that she was in her mid-20’s. She put on her official fire hat, and her official, heavy, and very hot fire coat, which she obviously had in her car, and strode up and down the highway near us. Paced. She would walk ½ mile toward the wreck on the left shoulder, and then cross the road to our right shoulder and walk back toward us. She had no cell phone, and no radios, so she was not in touch with the folks working on the wreck; and I could sense her frustration. Because of her coat and hat, people would leave their cars and approach her with questions. I don’t know what she said, but I will give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that she told them that she had no direct information on this wreck, but that in her experience it would take this long, and that would happen, and so forth. By an hour into the wait, the grapevine reached us that two people had died, and the medical examiner was supervising the data collection, so we knew we were in for a wait. I felt sorry for the Forelorned Firefighter, who couldn’t get into the action. In fact, several police cars passed us, so she could have moved her car off the road and jumped into one of them to get to the scene, but she stayed with us for her own reasons.
Finally, we started moving, and I snapped a couple of pictures. Then, I measured the length of the backup on the eastbound side as we headed west: 5.3 miles. I continued to three towns with campgrounds before I found one open, in Winnemucca NV, with one space left. We got into it at 8:30 PM, and I made Lacy her dinner and just turned in myself.
The next day, the newspaper talked about the wreck which was now 100 miles behind us (to the east), and told about the four fatalities.
We were in the high desert, so temperatures were hot during the day and cool at night. We filled up with more diesel (I’ve used about 1-1/2 dinosaurs so far), and got back on the road Saturday morning for California.
For a western city in the desert with a big older interstate running through it, Reno is surprisingly primitive. I-80 twists and winds through the town with 45 MPH speed limits, and a lot of construction. There are casino signs everywhere. Once we passed through and into California, things opened up again.
I expected a big delay and a thorough inspection of the RV at the California “customs” station. They have historically run a Berlin Wall operation concerning their citrus and other crops. They will take the slice of orange out of your baby’s mouth… well, no, but almost. Anyway, here’s a hint to all of you lemon-lime-orange smugglers: no inspections on Saturday!
We found ourselves in the high Sierras on California’s eastern border, at 7,400 feet elevation, descending for 50 miles to Sacramento. It was a beautiful ride, and we made good time without burning out the brakes. I had made reservations for a change at the campground in West Sacramento, about 18 miles from Vacaville and my new client, so we got to the campground and all set up by 5:00 pm.
It is hot here. 100 degrees during the day, 50% relative humidity, and down to the 60’s at night.
On Sunday, I got to Mass at a little church, Our Lady of Grace, and then Lacy and I drove out to Vacaville to get oriented. It is no longer a quiet country town as it was when John Steinbeck was down the road in Monterey writing Cannery Row. It is one shopping center after another, a huge factory outlet center, and still the center of a fruits and nut growing region. 60 miles to San Francisco, and about 25 miles to Sacramento. We found the client, as well as Staples (I had to send some faxes), a closer and less expensive campground which will give me monthly rates without KOA’s 28 day limit, and a big Sears / Macy’s / Penny’s mall. Today (Monday), I hope to return to get my mail set up and an oil change on the truck.
We headed south from Glacier through Helena toward Salt Lake City, and spent Thursday night in Pocatello, Idaho, at a small campground. The first thing I noticed was that we had returned to the land of normal summer temperatures: it was in the high 80’s, and it took some time for us to adjust. The campground offered a special snack for the evening: baked potato with any toppings for $3.99. I thought that was unusual until I remembered the state where we were.
Friday, I drove to Salt Lake City, about 15 miles past the turn off for our route to Sacramento, so that I could visit Camping World. They run a bunch of stores across the country which specialize in RV camping supplies. I wanted a sanitizing kit for the RV’s fresh water system, a small propane tank (1 gallon) for the barbecue grill, and one of those hokey maps of the U.S. where you stick the states on which you have visited. I have had the trailer four months, and it’s been in nineteen states so far! I’ll post a picture of the map when it is done.
After shopping, we backtracked north to I-80, which we took west toward Sacramento. That brought us through Salt Lake City (the Mormon Temple is visible six miles away from the Interstate, and it is very impressive). There is a huge industry to harvest salt from the lake, and Morton, Cargill and others have huge factories on the south end of the lake. Wal*Mart trucks make direct pickups there, probably of water softener salt. Mountains of it!
We soon left Utah, and entered northern Nevada. The first thing I noticed is that every hole-in-the-wall has slot machines; and most gas stations are casinos! To be fair, Montana now has casinos everywhere, too. In Utah, we had several very quick, very heavy rainstorms which reduced visibility to a few feet. That forced me to slow to 20 miles per hour, since we don’t stop very fast on wet roads. Unfortunately, some people headed east on 80 kept following too closely, at 75 mph, right through the storms and got into a huge wreck. Seventeen cars and trucks; four fatalities; four helicopter lifts to the hospital and at least five filled ambulances which came east towards us, and unknown ambulances heading west. It happened 15 miles from any town, and it shut down I-80 for two hours before we could move again. Unlike similar wrecks I’ve seen in New Jersey and New York, where everyone fills all lanes and both shoulders so as to be the very first one through when the road is re-opened, here we all stayed in a single lane, leaving the other lane and both shoulders open for the police and fire departments.
One poor, misplaced soul was a fire fighter who was in our pack of cars, which I later measured to be three miles from the scene. She was not part of the emergency response team, and that irked her. I think that she was in her mid-20’s. She put on her official fire hat, and her official, heavy, and very hot fire coat, which she obviously had in her car, and strode up and down the highway near us. Paced. She would walk ½ mile toward the wreck on the left shoulder, and then cross the road to our right shoulder and walk back toward us. She had no cell phone, and no radios, so she was not in touch with the folks working on the wreck; and I could sense her frustration. Because of her coat and hat, people would leave their cars and approach her with questions. I don’t know what she said, but I will give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that she told them that she had no direct information on this wreck, but that in her experience it would take this long, and that would happen, and so forth. By an hour into the wait, the grapevine reached us that two people had died, and the medical examiner was supervising the data collection, so we knew we were in for a wait. I felt sorry for the Forelorned Firefighter, who couldn’t get into the action. In fact, several police cars passed us, so she could have moved her car off the road and jumped into one of them to get to the scene, but she stayed with us for her own reasons.
Finally, we started moving, and I snapped a couple of pictures. Then, I measured the length of the backup on the eastbound side as we headed west: 5.3 miles. I continued to three towns with campgrounds before I found one open, in Winnemucca NV, with one space left. We got into it at 8:30 PM, and I made Lacy her dinner and just turned in myself.
The next day, the newspaper talked about the wreck which was now 100 miles behind us (to the east), and told about the four fatalities.
We were in the high desert, so temperatures were hot during the day and cool at night. We filled up with more diesel (I’ve used about 1-1/2 dinosaurs so far), and got back on the road Saturday morning for California.
For a western city in the desert with a big older interstate running through it, Reno is surprisingly primitive. I-80 twists and winds through the town with 45 MPH speed limits, and a lot of construction. There are casino signs everywhere. Once we passed through and into California, things opened up again.
I expected a big delay and a thorough inspection of the RV at the California “customs” station. They have historically run a Berlin Wall operation concerning their citrus and other crops. They will take the slice of orange out of your baby’s mouth… well, no, but almost. Anyway, here’s a hint to all of you lemon-lime-orange smugglers: no inspections on Saturday!
We found ourselves in the high Sierras on California’s eastern border, at 7,400 feet elevation, descending for 50 miles to Sacramento. It was a beautiful ride, and we made good time without burning out the brakes. I had made reservations for a change at the campground in West Sacramento, about 18 miles from Vacaville and my new client, so we got to the campground and all set up by 5:00 pm.
It is hot here. 100 degrees during the day, 50% relative humidity, and down to the 60’s at night.
On Sunday, I got to Mass at a little church, Our Lady of Grace, and then Lacy and I drove out to Vacaville to get oriented. It is no longer a quiet country town as it was when John Steinbeck was down the road in Monterey writing Cannery Row. It is one shopping center after another, a huge factory outlet center, and still the center of a fruits and nut growing region. 60 miles to San Francisco, and about 25 miles to Sacramento. We found the client, as well as Staples (I had to send some faxes), a closer and less expensive campground which will give me monthly rates without KOA’s 28 day limit, and a big Sears / Macy’s / Penny’s mall. Today (Monday), I hope to return to get my mail set up and an oil change on the truck.
posted by Greg Finnegan @ 11:59 AM
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