One Year Anniversary

Just over a year ago,  I flew from New York to Reno and met a new friend.  Waiting in the baggage claim,  I first saw her making loops around the football sized loop.  Her throaty exhaust cut through the top 40 hits and whirring air conditioning.  I have never been so eager for my backpack to come off the conveyor.  Since picking her up that morning in July,  I have slept over 320 nights in her fold-down bed. It's been the best year of my life. Here are a collection of my favorite shots of her from the last year.

Mojave Desert, CA.  November 2011.

Big Sur, CA.  December 2011

Lost Coast, CA.  September 2011.

Mexican Hat, Utah. April 2012.

Gunnison National Forest, CO.  August 2011.

Crater Lake, OR.  September 2011.

Pescadero, Mexico. February 2012.

White Salmon, WA. August 2011.

Northern Arizona.  May 2012.

Through the breakdowns, hundreds of tanks of gas and 37k miles,  she's been a great ride and worth every cent I spent on her.  Thanks for supporting me along the way.

Here are some more links,

One Year Anniversary (Facebook),

#Vanlife.

Mendocino

"Teeny Bopper, my teenage lover I caught your waves last night It sent my mind to wonderin'. You're such a groove, Please don't move.

Please stay in my love house by the river."

"What's this song?  Who is this?" Phil asked.

"Sir Douglas Quintet, the song's called Mendocino."

"Isn't that the name of the place we are heading?"

"Sure is.  It's beautiful.  You're going to love it."

I had heard the song two years earlier on an summer's evening on a New York City rooftop.  Like Phil, I asked a similar question to my friend Lee.  Despite being from the West Coast,  I had never heard of the remote county in the Northwest portion of California and assumed it was some place on the central coast.   Not until hitting the road and traveling up and down the California Coast on the PCH did I find the special part of the state described in that 70's song.

After spending two days in Humboldt, we headed down the 101 towards the start of the PCH and the Mendocino Coast.  The bluffs and steep hillsides resemble Big Sur, but without the convertible rental cars. Four hours from San Francisco,  the area is sleepy and seldom traveled, save for a few notable holiday weekends.  Travelers between San Francisco and Oregon opt to take the 101 or I-5,  leaving the PCH with local access to small coastal towns. Periodic vacancy signs announced the level of bustle.

Camping in turn-offs along the PCH, we worked our way down the coast.

Big Trees.

Fences.

Driftwood.

Phil snapping flicks.

Sunset off the PCH.

#vanlife.

Welcome.

Easy Rider.

"Please stay here with me in Mendocino, Mendocino, Mendocino Where life's such a groove, You blow your mind in the morning We used to walk through the park, Make love along the way in Mendocino Mendocino, Mendocino, Mendocino"

Someday...

Here are some links,

Mendocino (Facebook),

Mendocino (Sir Douglas Quintet).

Just off the Jet

"I gotta see what vanlife is all about." "Yes you do man,  you'll love it."  

Our plans came together last minute.  With three days notice, Phil bought a round trip ticket from Newark to Portland.  Escaping from the confines of a late spring in New York, the idea was to show him what the Northwest had to offer in a vanlife crash course.  I picked up Phil a little after noon on a Tuesday, and we headed east into the Columbia River Gorge.

An ode to Lewis and Clark on the Columbia River.

Whatcha liken?

Glass off.

Shred sticks of yesteryear.

Blaze is a Ford Ranger.

Cascade Lakes.

Burned out snag.

Bench seats.

Frigid.

Beaver.

Burned out.

After three days of relitively pleasant weather for early spring,  the weather turned south.  Rainstorms that felt more like November than June marched in one after another.  The temperature dropped.

"Do you want to fly out of San Francisco?  I need to head that way anyway, and it would be easy to drop you off at SFO."

"I'd be into that.  Cali calls."

"Plus we can get out of this rain.  It will be nice down there."

"Sounds good to me."

Just like that our plans changed.  Instead of hanging around Oregon for another four days,  we headed south over the Cascades towards Cave Junction and the 101 in Northern California.

Here are some more links,

South With Phil (Facebook),

Award Tour.

"Down Hill from Here"

The syncro's starter cranked, lagging for a second before catching.  The liberally muffled exhausted echoed around the small mechanics shop in Arcata.  I grinned at John, the grey haired man poking his head into the engine bay.

"It's still doing that slow crank thing... we cant really figure out what that's about.. but it's not cutting out any more," John yelled over the rough idle of the syncro. "One of the guys went through and secured the harness with zip ties and checked all of the grounds.  Not sure exactly which one it was, but its not cutting out anymore."

"Awesome.  I just need to get back to Portland.  I can handle a slow start and rolling her if she craps out."

"Just park on hills," John replied with a laid back tone echoing his roots in the far northwest corner of California.

"I've gotten pretty good at that,"  I laughed.

"The other option is that we order a starter from Go-westy,  but that wont be here until early next week."

"I'll take my chances."

"Thought so.  Safe travels man."

After the better part of a week in Arcata, I tossed my backpack in the back seat of the Syncro and headed towards the 101.  The freedom of having a wheels again overcame my fear that the starter could crap out at any moment.  At the same time, it made me realize how good I had it when the van was 100% reliable.

Sticking to the coastal rout,  I followed the 101 up from Humboldt into Oregon.

"I can get 70 miles to the gallon on this hog..." My week in Arcata prompted me to pick up this hog.  She fits well in the back of the syncro and is perfect for motoring around town.

Memories flooded of all the times that a break down would have been a serious problem.  Middle of nowhere in Baja,  500 miles from the nearest van mechanic.  BLM Land in Utah,  50 miles from the nearest cell tower.  20 miles down a 4x4 road in Death Valley.  All of these scenarios would have required multiple day efforts just to get the van to a mechanic.   It's best to count your blessings, I mused to myself.

Cresting the peak of the coastal range and the syncro descended into the Willamette valley.  In the distance,  the radio towers dotted the west hills.  Like a spot light singling an attraction,  these towers spelled an end to my mechanical plagued journey that started over a month before.  I breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's all down hill from here," I informed the empty passenger seat.

Here are some more links,

North (Facebook).