Date: Sun, 29 Jun 1997 20:05:39 -0800
From: Charlie Ford <cford@mindspring.com>
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genuinely bothered me that I was changing the plans that were originally
made.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"