Awakening from Winter Hibernation

Our winter hibernating is over and we're on the road again.

We spent five months in Quartzsite, Arizona, with the exception of four days at the Good Sam Rally held at the Phoenix International Raceway. Now that we've been there done that, we'll never feel the need to go to another. The vendors, on the most part, were the same as seen at any event where people might gather and spend money; and, since we weren't in the market to buy a new RV, there wasn't much to see or do. We toured as many new models as Rob's legs and my feet would allow–more about that later. They had a veterans parade, which would've been nice but for Rob having to stand and/or walk for lengthy periods; and a mass renewal of vows ceremony with the hopes of beating the Guinness world record for the number of couples taking vows, but we aren't into that stuff because its corny. They arranged a golf tournament, too, but we're not golfers. However, they did provide fun evening entertainment in the way of tribute bands. Usually they have one or two big name entertainers come (I know Reba McEntyre performed one year), but because of a relatively last minute date change for the rally (NASCAR usurped Good Sam's reserved, and already announced, dates), rescheduling became impossible for those folks in high demand, so we missed out.

When we arrived at the rally, there were volunteers directing traffic. Each participant (RV) received a packet that, in part, contained two sheets of paper—one stated the date you chose to arrive and the arrival time assigned by the organizers as either AM or PM—the second sheet had a QR code and indicated E if you purchased an electric site or D if a dry site. Also included on this important sheet was the wheelchair icon to indicate that one should be directed to the ADA (handicapped) section. Rob required the ADA section, but the volunteers failed to notice the icon. We, in our first-timer ignorance, obediently followed direction. Later, when we set out to enter into the rally, we were dismayed to find that it was a long walk to and from our shuttle stop. We knew this couldn't be right so once inside the rally we headed for customer service. A woman working there told us to leave our name and number and someone would call us in the afternoon to get us moved to the correct location. No call came. No call came by noon the next day either. There was no way Rob could make the walk to and from the shuttle stop, again, and expect to see any other part of the rally without a scooter or wheelchair, so he made a call to the Good Sam office in Oxnard, CA, that organized the event, to inform them of the problem. It sure didn't take very long after that to get a call and get moved. They had special golf-cart like shuttles that frequently drove through the ADA areas and all you had to do was wait for the next one to come by. Unfortunately, that initial extra walk the first day limited Rob's ability to enjoy the rally more fully.

The up side to it all were two things: We were in the vicinity of a Costco so we got new tires for the car and filled the freezer with quality meats. We also found a Sears parts store that had the part we needed to repair our Dremel tool. The other was that a couple from Ottowa, Ontario, Canada, Barry and Caren, who stayed in our park in Quartzsite for about 6 weeks right across the street from us, and with whom we became friendly, were also at the rally. We got together to see the Beatles Tribute Band one evening and had a good time. Caren and I agreed that the best part was we knew all the lyrics. After the rally, Barry and Caren went on to Casa Grande, Arizona, and we went back to Quartzsite. Rob really missed Barry after that. They'd become buddies and Rob missed his daily conversations with Barry.

While in Quartzsite, it seemed like we did little but accomplished much. We had The Beast's windshield and awning replaced. The windshield because of rust in the frame causing it to leak whenever it rained and the awning because the other one simply wore out. Besides, the best deals are in Quartzsite during 'the season.'

Rob occupied himself by going out with the guys to shoot at targets with air rifles and fly radio controlled airplanes. We even took a day to drive to Thermal, California, to join our Quartzsite-visiting friends at a radio-controlled airplane event. Our friends, Phil, Brad and Jim, had a few of their planes entered in this event. So we, Phil and Linda, Brad and Patti (who we met the very first time we stayed in Quartzsite and through whom we met our friends Phil and Linda), as well as friends of their's, Jim and Anita, were there to watch these airplanes zip around the sky.

On another occasion, we drove down to Yuma, Arizona, for another RC fly-in. It was a huge competition. By then, Brad and Patti and Jim and Anita had left to go home, so only Rob and I were there to be Phil's personal audience. We were surprised by the number of spectators. Could have been two or three hundred, if not more judging by the number of vehicles parked. Some of the airplanes were amazing and their handler's ability to control them was quite impressive. Although, there was one rather spectacular crash—one that not only demolished the airplane but, probably, the owner's wallet as well.

I have to interject a comment about our new friend, Anita, and I've told her this myself already: She is the nicest, kindest, most generous and compassionate person I've met in decades. Yes, decades. We've met some great folks over the years who we call friends, but Anita is a special breed. She makes me think of what the late, great Maya Angelou said: “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” Anita made me feel heard, she made me feel valued and she made me feel validated. I can't remember the last time I felt that way—neither by family, nor friends, nor husband—and because of it, I think I may have succumbed to a brand of cynicism and bitterness that's caused me to become numb as method to self-preservation. As a result, I've cared less, listened less and felt less for others. Anita makes me want to find my old self, to again be that person who cares more, who truly listens, and who feels the compassion necessary to make others feel good after they've left my presence regardless of how I feel after leaving their's. Thank you, my dear Anita, for being you.

Over the last month, Rob ordered the parts necessary to build a hexacopter big enough to carry a small camera, so his need to have a project and build something is being fulfilled. Those who know Rob know he flew Cobra helicopters in Vietnam, so I guess it means that you can take the man out of a helicopter but you can't take the helicopter out of the man. As for me, I took up playing Bingo every Tuesday evening—won several times yet remained in the red. I missed my bingo buddy, Caren, when she left town. I spent most of my daytime hours indoors working on my pyrography—until the last week, that is, when the remainder of the hexacopter parts arrived and Rob commandeered my workspace—aka dinette table. In March, however, I took the opportunity to drive to Ventura to spend a few days with my daughter that included my birthday, which landed on a Sunday. We spent my birthday sitting on the beach soaking up the sounds of the ocean, people watching and watching my grandson, Cayman, play happily in the sand. I was also treated to a delicious dinner out. It was the best birthday I've had in ages.

The weather was unusually cool most of the time with the exception of the last four or five days when it reached the mid to high 90s. I heard it was the record high since 1918. Like me, our refrigerator doesn't like the heat and, while the freezer continues to freeze, the fridge struggles. Now we have to figure out the fix for that. It's always something.

We traveled from Quartzsite to Laughlin, Nevada, for a quick one-night stay in a casino parking lot and then onto Zion National Park. We were lucky to get reservations at a KOA because I hadn't realized it was Easter weekend. Until then, we'd originally planned to stay at one of the National Park campgrounds. Those campgrounds are first come and if there's no room you're out of luck, and all the RV parks surrounding the area nearest Zion were booked.

One of the things I like about staying at a KOA is that they are family oriented campgrounds. Good Friday saw the arrival of lots of travel trailers and Class Cs disgorging excited kids ready to get playing. We heard moms and dads reminding them of their duties before playing could commence and then, finally, the sound of kid shouts and kid laughter from the play structures and swimming pool. The weather was a bit cool, but the pool was heated. What more could a kid want?

Zion was beautiful. On the first day, we took the park's shuttle ride through the canyon where cars are prohibited. It was nice that you could get on and off at the eight stops along the canyon but disappointing that your view was so obstructed by the vehicle itself as you went. The second day we took a drive into the park as far as we could go and headed out on highway 9 to the east gate. It was more spectacular than the canyon in certain respects, but had we been able to traverse the many trails from the canyon, we know we would have seen some dazzling sights. We continued on to take the long drive around eastern and northern sides of Zion and back to the KOA. Along the way we stopped for lunch and then drove through a portion of Dixie National Forest. We climbed to over 9000 feet where there was still plenty of snow yet to melt, aspens yet to bud and a still-frozen Navajo Lake.

On Easter Sunday, we traveled from Zion to Draper, Utah, which is in part of the greater Salt Lake City area. Rob is hoping to paraglide at Point of the Mountain. It's hard to say if the wind will cooperate let alone that we're seeing rain forecast for Wednesday and possible snow, maybe rain, on Thursday. It is what it is.

Next Sunday we leave for the southeast corner of Idaho, then into Montana for a week's visit with our friends in the Kalispell and Big Fork area. After that, we'll be in Sandpoint, Idaho, until we leave to head north to Alaska—my dream come true.

Until next time… enjoy the photos—and please share on your favorite social media. Thanks for reading everyone!

Our Christmas Carolers at the Holiday Palms.

Rob making friends with Gordon.

A reflected sunset.

A lone spring flower at our campsite.

Flying RCs in Quartzsite.

The guys talking about flying.

Getting ready to taxi for take off.

Some of the toys.

Arlene and Tom at the rifle range shooting pellet rifles.

Phil.

Linda sighting the target.

Just a few spent targets.

Rob taking a turn.

At the Thermal Fly-in. I have a soft spot for biplanes.

Looks like a real plane, doesn't it?

Phil's Corsair doing a fly by.

Oh boy! Another biplane.

Brad and Jim posing for a picture.

Everyone votes for their favorite.

Now there's a dashing looking pilot.

Phil's Corsair at the Yuma Fly-In.

The Red Baron bit the dust. Ouch.

Putting on a show.

A very pretty biplane.

Phil and Linda at their table at the Yuma Fly-In.

One of my favorite photos at Ventura Beach.

And this one, too.

And I had to include one of the happy dogs at the beach. And there were many.

Cayman spent more than an hour occupying himself at the water's edge.

Our first (wrong) spot at the Good Sam Rally.

Outside the Phoenix International Raceway.

A twilight view of the stage and the rally.

Beatles Tribute Band — The Early Years

Beatles Tribute Band — Sergeant Pepper and after.

Barry, Caren and Rob.

Just the tip of the iceburg mountain at Zion National Park.

Oh, the colors and textures. Mother Nature is magnificent.

A view overlooking the town of Virgin, Utah. 

Looking to the left.

Looking to the right.

Looking in the middle. It's all gorgeous.

Looks like a tunnel to nowhere, but its not. It is one of many openings that allows light and air into the Zion-Mt. Carmel Tunnel, which is 1.1 miles long.

Red on red.

Looks like natural Bonsai.

Checkerboard Mesa.

Grandeur.

Taken from Highway 89, outside Mt. Carmel, UT.

Snow and Birches, Dixie National Forest.

A very frozen Navajo Lake.

Call Me Artist

We've been in Quartzsite for about three and a half months. This is the longest stretch of time we've spent in any one place since we embarked on our RVing journey, which is coming up on two years. Usually we are ready to get moving again within two weeks, but not this time. Maybe its just the mentality of knowing that we intend to spend five months here, or maybe its because we have friends here. For me, I think its because I have more with which to occupy myself. Something that interests me greatly.

I enjoy the outdoors, but I've come to the conclusion that I'm pretty much an indoor person. I have no problem going for days without stepping outside The Beast—as long as I have something to occupy my mind. I read a lot but I can't do that day in and day out. I have my photography, which I do when we have (new) places to see. Being in the desert, there are tons of cactus plants to photograph, but the photos all come out looking the same. I came to the conclusion months ago that reading and photography weren't as fulfilling to me as I once thought they might. And it galls me to admit that. But photography is still huge in my picture. No pun intended.

As I mentioned in my last blog post, I have taken up pyrography, which is woodburning. It turns out I'm good at it and I can spend hours on end working on projects. When some people think of woodburning, they think of signs personalized for people to put outside their homes—like our's would say "The Cooks" or "Welcome to The Beast" or some such thing. Nope. Not that. I'll tell you my story:

How did I get into woodburning? I think it was one evening last September that Rob and I watched a 'Treehouse Masters' episode on Animal Planet. The episode featured a pyrographer who was commissioned to create an artwork for the treehouse. When I saw what she could do by burning wood I turned to Rob and said "I've got to try that!" Just like that. It stayed on my mind. I mentioned it to several people. I did some research and discovered a world of amazing, talented artists and a medium that was heretofore unknown to me. I was surprisingly unintimidated. I learned about the types of tools pyrographers use and decided I'd start with the least expensive option.

It was the last week of October when we arrived in Ventura to spend a week visiting our daughter Kristie and her family. I asked Kristie to accompany me to Michael's to check out what they had. I found the inexpensive woodburning kit I'd learned about online and chose some small pieces of wood meant for decorating or other crafts. Then I found a few patterns online and burned a simple Christmas piece. I thought, okay, I handled that alright. It was too easy. I decided to expand a little bit to see what more I could do with the burner. I downloaded a more complicated pattern. After we got here to Quartzsite, Rob bought some wood to build a game board to play 'Corn Hole.' He had bits wood leftover so I used a piece of it to burn my second project instead of using the 'good' wood I bought at Michael's—just in case I failed miserably. My second project was a dragon. It turned out so well that I felt more confident and have continued to increase each project's difficulty.

I bought books on the subject written by two different pyrography artists. Each with their own styles, they offer tips, techniques and projects from which to practice them. I also learned about the better woodburning systems that would allow me to do more, and all their lessons were tailored to the better systems.

I had an occasion to email all my daughters about something—I don't remember what—and in it I decided to write a note letting them know what I've been doing and how much I love it. Rob started asking me questions that led me to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was considering getting me the better, and expensive, woodburning system for Christmas—even though it was clearly not in the budget. A girl can dream, though, right? Never in my wildest dreams did I suspect my daughters were behind it. I was in the middle of a project when Rob dropped a box next to me and told me to open it. "What is it?" "Just open it." Which I did after, to Rob, an agonizing few minutes. "My Razertip? It's not in the budget!" "I didn't have anything the to do with it! Its from your daughters." I was speechless. A Christmas gift of the system I'd begun to lust after from all five daughters. "How did they know?" "I don't know but they knew about it." I didn't remember mentioning it until I looked back at the email and there it was in backlit splendor. I can't begin to say how much I appreciate this gift, and being that its from my girls has made it that much more special. I only hoped that I'd be worthy of it.

When I burned the lion, which you'll see, I was still using the old burner. A friend saw the lion while I was working on it and asked if I'd do something from a photo. She had a favorite cellphone picture of her daughter that she'd like done. My first commission? Cool. I told her I'd probably not start it for a couple of months because I wanted to get more technique down before I tried anything like—gasp—a person. Doing fur is one thing with the low-end burner, shading skin is another. Believe me. Then the Christmas gift arrived and I had hope that I'd be able to burn Nonda's daughter even sooner. And I did. To get ready, I worked on patterns from my books to learn the techniques each artist offered; and, I practiced using the new 'pens' until I felt confident enough to give it a try. I had to make sure that each time I touch a nib to wood, I was getting a consistent effect. Nonda was pleased with the results, as was I. 

In photography, the study of light and zones, the gradation from light to dark, act as a foundation for the work I now do, which is simply sepia tones on wood rather than the black and white of a photograph—but its done from my hand rather than my eye.

Who would have thought I could do this? Who could have known this is where I'd be led. Not I. I do meditation and before we bought our motorhome, my mantra had been "when an opportunity presents itself, I will recognize that opportunity and I will act upon it." Next thing I knew, we were RVing full-time after first talking about it 30 years before. I've felt for a long time that there's something I'm meant to do. I just didn't know what. So, last summer my mantra became "show me what I'm meant to do that is a gift to myself as well as to others." For one who could've only wished she could sketch or paint or watercolor, providence called and, without really knowing it, I recognized, at the soul level, the medium that now allows me to express my creative side like no other. When I watched that show and felt the excitement and motivation to try pyrography, I had no clue that it was my soul speaking to me. It was only after I discovered I was good at it and that I can possibly become great at it that I realized the Universe/Soul/Higher Self/God conspired to fulfill my needs, maybe my destiny. Why? Because I was open to it.

So when it happens to you, when that moment comes and your first thought is I've got to try that, do that, be that, don't brush it off, don't forget it, don't think you can't. For any reason. It is your highest self speaking to you. It is opportunity knocking. Just turn the knob, open the door, walk through, and don't look back.

The new woodburning system. Considered the best on the market at this time.

My very first project. The color is done with watercolor pencils and water.

Project number two. The Dragon on solid pine. About 5 x 7.

Number 3. Howling Wolf on 5 x 7 Baltic Birch.

Number 4. Husky on 5 x 7 Baltic Birch. I'd like to do this on about 20 x 30.

Number 5. Wolf on 5 x 7 Baltic Birch.

Number 6. Polar Bear with acrylic paint and watercolor on 5 x 7 Baltic Birch.

Number 7. Wolf by Birch Tree on 12 x 12 Baltic Birch plywood.

Number 8. The Lion on natural Basswood. Approx. 8 x 12.

Number 9. Gold Panning. This scene was taken from a sketch done by the famous western artist, Charles W. Russell. Approx. 7 x 11.

Number 10. Buffalo in Snow from a photo by Jeff Wendorff. 5 x 7 Baltic Birch.

Number 11. Tiger done with nothing but straight lines. One of the lessons I did to learn technique. 10 x 10 Baltic Birch.

Number 12. Dream Catcher on 12 x 14 Baltic Birch. Another lesson to learn technique.

Number 13. My first commissioned work. Erin and Puppy. This was about 40 hours of work.