Date: Sun, 29 Jun 1997 20:05:39 -0800 From: Charlie Ford Subject: Headin' East On last Wednesday June 18, I left Seattle. The leaving was sweet and sour since I had made many new friends there. I plan on moving back there when my journey is completed. I found Seattle to be quite pleasing although at first, all I really could see of it was the rain. I guess it is true that in order to really know something you have to spend the time to get to know it, I found that the rain actually lends to the charm of the city. At least when you take the time it takes, one does not judge the worth solely on the first impression. Don't you wish people could learn to do that? I left Michael Lewis's home at around 12:00 noon. I dropped by Doug's and said good-bye to him, and went on my way. I drove out I 90 east listening to The Mothership, and already missing all of the good friends I was leaving behind. But onward I drove because my trip is not yet complete. Recently I wrote a post that stated I was thinking of staying in Seattle through the summer and continue my trip in September or early fall. These plans were changed due to the feelings over the past few weeks. It genuinely bothered me that I was changing the plans that were originally made. This trip has been about goals and meeting them, it has been about my own "research" so to speak, it has been about finding out about my country. I found that I couldn't meet those goals or reach that understanding, by sitting in one place the entire summer. When you are traveling you find a certain peace. There are many times that I lose track of time completely. I just get lost in the muse of driving, or my thoughts of things I have yet not unraveled, like lost love, death of a friend, and other mysteries of life and living. The bus becomes part of the landscape and the driver becomes a part of the bus. Over the past two weeks I have yearned for that feeling of "aloneness". Thus my departure. About 15 miles out of town on I-90, I had a guy in a Datsun pickup pull up beside me. As he passed he pointed to my drivers side tire, as if to imply something was amiss. I immediately pulled over and sure enough smoke was coming from that part of the Mothership. Being the mechanic I "wanna be", I crawled underneath and took a look. I saw that it was not the tire or the engine on that side. I felt of the wheel and it was quite hot so I figured it must be the brakes. The temperature and the pungent smell of asbestos filled the air. I had adjusted the brakes on last Friday and apparently I had left this shoe a little to tight against the hub. I let her cool down and eased on to the next exit. I pulled over and adjusted it two clicks more and proceeded to think and drive. As I drove I was constantly aware of that side of the bus, at times glaring at it through my mirror. I drove about 10 miles at a good clip and once again stopped to check it out. All was well with the world. : ) The Mothership was running and rolling good, thanks to the new CV Joints and the recent lubrication. She glided over the hills and by-ways with the greatest of ease. God I love my 2.0 litre, fuel injected home on wheels. She truly is "The Mothership". I drove along smoothly until I came to Snoqualmie Pass. Suddenly the hills started to take their toll as I climbed up the 3000 ft grade. My speed dropped to 55, then 50, then 45. I shifted to third and added a little gas, she reached that old familiar hum and I settled in for the ride, slow it may have been. It was time to roll the window down and enjoy the light breeze created by my slower moving vehicle. Time was passing but it was passing slower than before. I made the crest of the pass in good fashion. The Mothership kept racing right along and once again we were on the downhill side. I dropped her into fourth and eased a light foot on the pedal. We were stroking and heading east. I pulled off at the exit at Ellensburg, checked my rear tire and wheels, looked at my map and decided that in order to get to Jim Arnotts home in Union, Oregon, I would have two choices. I could drive like most everybody else traveling, and take Interstate 82 through Yakima, or I could take the "Blue Highway" which my atlas shows as sort of gray and take the Columbia River Gorge down Highway 243. I chose the Gorge and 243. As I passed the on ramp to I-82 I saw a hitchhiker standing along side the road and since I needed to start off with good karma, I decided I would give the old boy a ride. I pulled over and he climbed in. he had to sit backwards since I have my passenger side seat turned around, makes for a bigger living room, dontcha know. He asked how far I was going and I explained that I was going down to Vantage and turn south on 243. He said "damn man!...I was hoping you were going all the way to Montana". I told him eventually I would be but not this week. I had bought some chicken at the truckstop I had stopped at a few miles back and since he looked hungry I just handed the box to him and told him to eat it. He put up no argument at all and wolfed it down. The short time it took him to eat it and the grease shining on his face said to me that he enjoyed the bird quite a bit. We talked as we drove. He really didn't have to much to say, but he did tell me that he was going to visit his dad who lived in Montana. he said he hadn't seen him I about 15 years, and didn't know what kind of reception he was going to get when he got there. I drove and listened, but didn't ask any questions. he seemed pretty solemn about the whole deal. I dropped him off where 243 meets 90. He said thanks and got out. I had to whisper a prayer as I left him. I hope it all works out for him. The Columbia River Gorge is a site to behold. It is awesome in size and grandeur. As I drove I looked and looked, adoring the beauty of mid Washington. Of course the road was full of RV's so I decided to turn on the CB and see if I could talk to one of them. The guy I that replied back to my "break" the fella just ahead of me. he told me about a turn off up ahead that would take me up to a scenic overlook. I decided I would take. I turned off when he said turn off and found that the advice was good. I went up to the top and stood around a few minutes. Gazing upon the majesty that lay before me. I smoked a cigarette and eased back to the Mothership. On my way down a truck pulling a horse trailer was turning in the same road. I saw a hand waving me to stop so I pulled up beside. The guy inside ask me about the grade to the top. I told him it was alright and he should make it. He smiled and said "well turn your rig around and come back up", I said what the hell. He seemed like a good guy so I went back up. I got out of my bus and he stepped out of his truck. He went back and checked on his horse, a nice Indian pony that he had raised from a colt. He said his name was Dale Van Belle. He was a rancher from Sunnyside Washington. He was not only that but he was one weird fellow. He couldn't hold subject in a conversation for very long at all. He started standing a little to close after a few minutes and that is when I put my hand in my pocket and opened my knife. I didn't like the vibes I was feeling at all. I stood and talked for a few more minutes then eased toward my door. I got in and started my engine. he says "hey man, where ya goin" I said well I got someplace I need to be and it ain't here. he said well if ya gotta go, I said well I gotta go. And off I went. I drove along a few minutes and all I could think about was how nice it was not to be there anymore. I just didn't like that guy, he seemed as if he might have been a "happy meal shy a fry". I puttered along 243 and then turned off on 240. I drove all the way to Benton City. Instead of taking the interstate there I went straight. I came through a canyon and finally the road turned to shale. I kept going, I was out for adventure, and nothing was stopping me. After driving about ten miles on this road I came to a trailer sitting in the middle of the plain. I saw some folks outside so I pulled in to ask "where the hell am I!. The gentleman told me that I was a few miles from Umatilla. I asked him if there was a campground there. He told me there was and that I shouldn't have any problem finding it since it sat right on the river I the middle of town. I thanked him and proceeded on my way. Once again driving across a vast plain on a road that tossed dust in the air that was visible for miles. Umatilla is the first city you come to on Interstate 82 in Oregon. Interstate 82 or "Blue Highway" 240. I found the campground the plains man was telling me of. Not much of one but still a campground. The guy that owned it was a former forest ranger for the feds, and needless to say he had the personality of a brick. I paid my ten dollars for a non electric site and bedded in for the night. One of the pleasures of having a little money on you is the fact that you can afford such luxuries. They had shower so I would at least be clean when I reached Union and Jim's place. The next morning I rose about 8:00 AM. I fumbled around and checked out my load on my roof rack and headed down to take a shower. I drove my bus down and parked it just in front of the shower house. I enjoyed a nice .50 cent shower and commenced to brush my teeth and hair. As I was standing there a stocky built guy about 40 or so walked in and sounding as big as he could ask me in a gruff voice whether I was registered at the campground or not. I said "yes I am". he says "oh, OK, just wanted to make sure. I said "you thought I was some hippie or something didn't you? He said "yeah I did" and sort of laughed. For some reason this flew all over me like a sack of wet dog droppings. I quickly explained to hi how little I appreciated the fact that he would question me like this. I told him "damn man, we got kids killing one another in America and your worried about a damn shower". He was about two feet shorter than I was so he didn't say much more. he read the disgust in my eyes as I walked out of the bath. I got in my bus and drove away brushing my hair. I really don't know why it hit me like that. I think it was his demeanor. besides what if some guy traveling had decided to stop in and take a shower, he would have made .50 cents more than if they had not. Geez get a life! I stopped in Umatilla and filled my tank and off I went, somewhat satisfied that I had stood up for the rights of all traveling Volks Folks. : ) I made my way down the interstate through Pendleton and Le Grande where I went southeast on Highway 203. 203 would lead me over to Union. I had saved Jim's directions to his house but I figured I could probably ask around and find him just as fast. Most small towns you go to suffer the same plight and blessing, everybody knows you, and everybody knows where you live. if the law is looking for you it is a plight, if someone wants to give you a million dollars it is a blessing. I was just visiting. I pulled into town about lunch. I obeyed the 35 mile an hour speed limit and as I rounded a curve I looked over and saw a really nice and well kept blue Westy with a tall lanky middle aged fellow washing her down. I pulled over to the curb and stepped out of the Mothership. The first words I heard was "hey, that looks like a Mothership to me". It was Jim Arnott himself speaking these words that were welcome to my ears. We shook hands and broke into conversation and observation of each others rides. Another VW rally was underway. Jim and I spent the day cruising around the area. We had lunch at the cafe his wife Lisa works at, and then we headed into the mountains that surround Union. What a beautiful little town nestled in Eastern Oregon. I reminded me so much of home except for the fact that South Georgia has neither mountains nor the Oregon Trail, but I swear I think I knew a lot of the people I met. Later in the evening we enjoyed some fine chicken that Lisa prepared for us and except for trippin over the roll of carpet in the dining room a great meal was had by all. (gotcha Jim!) After dinner we stepped out and did some horse trading concerning a camera and a Remington 550 22 rifle. I retired about 11:00 PM and slept like a rock. The next morning Jim and I took a drive along the Oregon Trail and then stopped in at the Flying J Truckstop and had ourselves a hearty breakfast. We then drove back to Union and I left about lunch. I followed highway 203, that marvelous route, down through Medical Springs and the Wallawa Mountains. This land is fantastic. Farms that look like the ones that you see in the magazines like Home and Garden and Country Living, which I don't read or look at but I am sure if they have pictures at all they would be like this. I arrived at Baker City and headed once again got on the super slab headed toward Twin Falls Idaho. I drove and drove and drove some more. Truckers blew past me like I was standing still, cars drove by and kids waved peace signs to me as they passed, their parents urging them to turn around and enjoy the vacation. Or at least it looked as if what a couple of them were saying. : ) I dropped off the interstate at Gooding Idaho and took Highway 26. This road would take me over to Craters of the Moon National Monument which Jim had recommended I see, he was right. This area is full of dark black lava that has been there for ages. The Volcano that spit it out has been dormant but the say it is still boiling deep in the earth. I had to wonder if it is in the same chain as Mt. Saint Helens, and Mt. Rainier. I camped there that night at a pull out spot on the highway. It was so quiet I could hear my heart beat as I drifted off to sleep. Thanks for tolerating my rambling's. Charlie Ford "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". http://www.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"