My Trails

I’m bringing in the New Year suffering with another virus. In less than a month, I’ve caught two colds. I see so many people all day and it seems like everyone on my route is sick with something – colds; flu; laryngitis; bronchitis. I guess I don’t have a very good immune system because I always catch more than my share of colds. If only I’d had those tonsils and adenoids out when I was a kid.

I had a wonderful time with David and Lisa at Christmas. My present was new Black Diamond trekking poles from them and Karen. I can’t wait to try them out! Lisa made a delicious ham dinner, and afterwords, we all went to see a movie. When we got back to their house, Dave jail-broke my iPhone for me. I was thinking of moving up to the iPhone 4, but I really didn’t need any of the new features, and I would be hesitant to tamper with a new phone. I can now use my phone as a modem to connect my laptop, anywhere I get a data signal.

The next weekend, it was off to spend the New Year with Karen and the boys. It’s always great to see them. The boys are growing so fast and it won’t be long before they’ll all be leaving the nest. Next year, Zack heads to college, and the year after that, Nate will be going. Whenever I’m in Pittsburgh, I always get Karen to take me to the local REI. They were having the usual after-Christmas sales and we both bought some outdoor garments. I like the hiking clothes they have there but it always stuns me to see the prices. With the new rain jacket that Jen and Louie gave me, I should have everything I need to hike in the spring.

That’s about it for the holidays. In a way, I’m glad it’s over. The traffic and turmoil of delivery around Christmas time can be a nightmare. We will be giving up the apartment on February 29. I’m still looking for someplace to stay until spring. My plan is to continue to work until the end of April and then retire again. After I become tired of being retired, I may work so that I can afford new tires.

I found a company in Taiwan that makes small model motorcycles and exports them to the USA. The encouraging news I’m reading is that there are other people like me that want to relive their glory years with the 150cc bikes. It’s possible I may look into something like the SYM Classic 150.

Just for Donna, I’ve included a table of statistics on the motorcycles performance, and a couple of graphs detailing the power vs. torque analysis through the acceleration curve.

For some time now I’ve received emails and comments lamenting the fact that my blog has been abandoned. Along with subtle hints and direct prodding, there seems to be a unanimous consensus that everyone has had enough of tuning in only to discover “Swivel” as the latest update. I can sympathize with that. I’ve looked many times – always with optimism and hope – for a new update on anther blog, only to be similarly disappointed to see “Natchez Trace” still there. I guess I will attempt to update everyone with the happenings so far and maybe throw in some workings of my mind. Just be warned that that statement bores me. I can’t even imagine what it will do to you. 

I work. I eat. I sleep. There you have it!  Well, maybe I dream a little. Actually, I dream a lot.  It usually happens when I’m asleep but not always. I’ve caught myself quite often – and please don’t try this yourself – dreaming while I’m driving. Once or twice I almost missed my exit on the Thruway because my mind was far away from where it aught to be. I’ve caught myself several times on the verge of performing some careless blunder in traffic, only because I wasn’t paying complete attention. These close calls inevitably snap me back to the real world – often with a quick pulse and flash of adrenaline – and remind me of the seriousness of driving for a living. 

 I think we all let our emotions dictate our driving to a certain extent. During the holiday season, traffic is snarled, everyone is in a hurry to get somewhere, and the weather is often deteriorating, challenging us all to be better drivers. The other day, after making a delivery, it took me over a half hour just to get out of the Walmart parking lot. It was almost like everyone in town was at the store. Sometimes drivers would wait and motion you into the exit line, but eventually everyone became discouraged and fought for their own turn at escape. Usually, after much waiting and waining patience, two cars will move at the same time and bump into each other. That’s when you know your going to be there for a while. 

So far, my old RV (rusty van) has faithfully made the trip to Jamestown every day. With rust and corrosion slowly eating up the sides, strange noises and vibrations appearing regularly, and a host of gremlins ready and waiting to wreak havoc on a 260,000 mile engine, I nurse it along 5mph under the speed limit all the way to my destination. I figure if I can make it last until spring, I can throw it away with pride.

In the event of a breakdown, I have my new van as a backup. So far, the remodel is still in the planning stage. I thought it prudent not to spend a lot of time and money on furnishings until I knew exactly what the plan is. Even though I still intend to travel this spring, one never knows what might come up.  Here are a couple of scenarios I’ve been throwing back and forth in my head. Keep in mind that I’m not an optimist at all and have no trouble talking myself out of doing anything for which I can find a good reason not to. 

I would like to hike a section of the Appalachian Trail. Not just two or three days like all my hikes have been, but a serious section of extended length. It would get me fit again after a winter of sloth; it would be a great way to spend time outdoors and see nature; it would give me a chance to find out where my limits are. 

If I do this, it has to be now. Who knows when congress might come to an impasse and close down all the Parks, or even worse, take away part of my SSI(I’m being sarcastic about this one). And at my age, I may not have many more hiking years left. Already, my knees are complaining about every activity I do, and it’s increasingly alarming when I feel a new twinge in my back. These are the things I think about on my long drive each day. By the time spring rolls around I probably will be content to get another bag of potato chips and put my feet up on the couch. 

A while back, as I was driving to Jamestown, I came upon a motorcycle for sale by the road. I’ve always thought that van/motorcycle was the way to go. To carry a small motorcycle on the back of my van would allow me to camp and tool around the area with ease. I could also park the motorcycle at the trailhead and leave the van a few mile away, hike for a couple of days, pick up the motorcycle and shuttle back to the van. It seemed like a good solution but as I started to investigate new motorcycles, I discovered that they don’t make small ones anymore; at least not in this country. The smallest motorcycle made for the road is the Honda 230cc, weighing 300lbs and costing several thousand dollars. The small bikes we had when we were young have all been phased out in favor of high performance motorcycles and scooters. I’m not coming down on scooters. There’s nothing wrong with getting around on a scooter, but I occasionally like to go off-road – up a mountain trail, through a riverbed, or out in the desert – and thought a dirt bike would work better. 

The motorcycle I bought, with the intention of fixing up, is a Suzuki 185ts, built in 1974. Even though I paid very little for it, it may never work for me. I’ve discovered that parts are almost impossible to find, and what parts are avaiable are very expensive. i probably will take it to the level of dirt bike and sell it there. I have been watching eBay for restored motorcycles but they seem to all be in California or Arizona – great for my brothers but bad for me. 

That’s about it. I’m going to stick it out this winter and make a decision about travel when it gets closer to spring. I’m going to visit David and Lisa for Christmas tomorrow and next week I will spend New Years with Karen and the boys in Pittsburg. I hope everyone has a wonderful Merry Christmas!

I awoke to the sound of noisy seagulls, squawking at the bubbling surf and chasing the tides for their morning breakfast. The waves crashed along the oceanfront, rhythmically tumbling onto the shore and then retreating back to the sea. Low on the horizon the sun blazed bright and clear, casting a glow on the water that reflected the sky until it melted into the distant haze. A group of pelicans soared lazily above the water, passing by with hardly a beat of wing, and just beyond the waves the dorsal fins of two dolphins gracefully broke the surface in a flowing arc.

I stepped from my beach house and walked to the picnic patio. A gentle wind of exotic, ocean fragrance rolled over me. The temperature was perfect, warm but cool in the morning breeze. I walked to the beach and gazed up and down the dunes, endlessly stretching for miles in both directions. All around me was million-dollar landscape. A paradise of property that would beckon the desires of the rich and famous was ironically mine for $3 a day.

A few weeks later, I sat on my front lawn and watched the sun set over the distant hills. From my mountain top chalet, I could see for a hundred miles in every direction. A panorama of color and shape, valleys of meadows and forests, silhouetted by craggy peaks of distant mountains. It was a place where many dream of having a home. At that moment, it was my home for $3 a day.

Of course, I was not living in a beach house or mountain top chalet. I don’t own expensive oceanfront property or actually have deed to land in the mountains. The land I’m talking about is public. It belongs to all of us. It is the National Parks, National Seashores, National Forests, and National Historic places. My home was a twelve year-old van, converted into a makeshift RV.

For over six months I traveled the highways across America, accumulating almost 10,000 miles on an old Ford Econoline van. It started out as an experiment. I wasn’t sure if I should drive a car or motorcycle and camp in a tent, or drive my old truck and sleep in the back, or just stay in motels and rely on relatives for lodging. I’m the end, I decided that my old work van, converted into a primitive recreational vehicle, would be the best option. What could be a better way to see America than with my very own RV (Rusty Van).

The van provided me with almost everything I needed for my experimental adventure. I built a bed along one side, added closets and totes for storage, and made drop-down tables for cooking and organizing. I had a propane stove for cooking and a cooler for a refrigerator. For privacy, I used dark curtains and drapes. For nighttime entertainment, I had my laptop, dvd player, and Netflix/Kindle enabled iPhone. The only item I omitted and sometimes missed was a portable toilet. In the confined space of the van I didn’t want to deal with odor and the mess of finding places for waste disposal. I figured I could find and use public toilets when the need arose.

The list of places where I spent the nights include, but are not limited to: parking lots, rest areas, town parks, State and National park campgrounds, and Bureau of Land Management campgrounds (BLM). Not once did I stay in a RV park; it didn’t seem like I fit there. I enjoyed staying at BLM campgrounds the most. They were usually inexpensive and situated in nice, quiet National Forests. Rest areas were usually noisy with interstate traffic all hours of the night, and I spent a couple of sleepless nights there. The only time I was awakened by authorities happened to be in a town park. The police knocked on my door and wanted to know what I was doing. They were quite OK with me after I explained to them that I just wanted a few hours of rest. Although you are always susceptible to mischief, I never felt insecure in a parking lot; my old van is not a prime target for valuables, and most people don’t even know you are sleeping in it. If you are stealthy and park undetected, it looks like you are a store worker or just late-night shopping.

Besides upscale RV complexes, the nicest places to camp are usually State parks. Many of them have showers and flush toilets, understandably a treat after several days of hiking, biking, and traveling. I always promised myself that I would never sink into squalor and uncleanness, and I devised ways to bath in almost every situation. Even though I never felt beyond a little grubby (it’s not quite as important when your traveling alone), it was always nice to take a hot, steamy shower. The downside of State parks is the cost. They are usually $20 – $30/per night all across the US, and as much as $40 in California. You would think this price would include electric hookups but that’s not always the case.

As I reflect back on the trip, I keep focusing on one underlying thread — Don’t plan too much. It’s not to say you should go off unprepared or ill advised, but I found I was the happiest when I could take enjoyment in the moment, worry less where I was and where I thought I ought to be. Sometimes a traveler can put too much emphasis on travel plans, transportation, dining, lodging, and entertainment. After years of conditioning to two-week vacations, I often had to slow down and remind myself to take it easy. I would often get the itch to push on, see what was in the next state, visit someplace new, but if I just stayed where I was and looked around, some little piece of serendipity would always come my way.

Probably the most worrisome aspect of traveling in a camper is finding a site for the night. I have to admit that this occupied my mind quite often as I roamed across the land. If you travel without a definite destination for the night, it conjures up thoughts of ending up on a lonely abandoned road, far from civilization and normalcy, with inebriated, deranged hillbillies lurking about the hills. I would spend considerable time during the day pouring over maps and guides, looking for campgrounds. There were a few times when I would deviate miles from my route only to find a campground closed. What I needed was an escape clause that would almost guarantee a relative safe place to park, never be closed, and be located everywhere along my route. That’s where Walmart comes in.

Although the RV parks in town don’t like it, most Walmarts welcome RVs in their parking lots. The campers are well behaved, don’t make a mess, and buy stuff in their store. There is usually plenty of space to park and security is very good. A lot of the time, security personnel patrol the lot all night. It worked great for me – parking, security, restrooms, supplies, and fresh groceries at hand. Even though it was not my first choice for the night, once I learned the trick of googling nearby Walmarts, it took the worry out of finding campgrounds.

In my next post I will tell of the new van I just bought. Although it is new to me, it is certainly not new. With respectable mileage, beautiful interior, a high top, and – best of all – NO RUST, my plan is to modify it into a camper-van of sorts. I’m usually not looking to make myself more work, but this should be fun. For me, van camping is the way to travel. The gas mileage, the camping places I want to get into, and the stealth quality of parking undetected, outweigh the convenience and luxury of a large camper. Hey, it’s quite a step up from a tent!

I finally made it back to Buffalo. The plan is to stay and work for a while. I stopped in at the delivery company I used to work for and they were happy to see me, offering me a job instantly. It’s not high pay but I like the work. I get to be my own boss to an extent, meet a lot of nice people, and enjoy the beauty of New York scenery.

I put a few pictures up on my gallery. I took less and less photos as I worked my way East. It’s so hard to capture the beauty of what the eye sees, and there are so many places on the web that have better pictures than I do it was injustice on my part to photograph it. What everyone wants to see is our picture, but Karen, intuitively, put it this way, “Here’s a picture of me on the AT. Here is another picture of me resting on the trail, and here’s another picture of me walking on the trail.”

I think I need to write some kind of conclusion to my trip, some kind of insight that highlights the pros and cons of what I did. A lot of the trip was an experiment. I wanted to see if I could fall off the grid and not be depressed by the insecurity and loneliness of drifting on a paupers budget. I wanted to taste the extreme vagabond lifestyle and glean whatever knowledge I could filter from the experience. But most of all, I wanted to see this great land of ours. I’ll write more on this later.

People walk past one another hundreds of times each day. We pass in stores, in shopping malls, on the street, in neighborhoods on bicycles, and – it seems to me – usually without a glance or a smile of recognition, content in our isolated world of comfortable individualism. But take a hike, deep into the forest, anywhere in the country, and notice the change when people meet. Almost everyone I pass on the trail will smile and say a pleasant greeting, sometimes exchange comments or questions about the geography, or offer up words of encouragement.  The hiking trail seems to bond people like few other activities do.  It’s really nice, I can put it no other way

Today, as I hiked the Heart Of Rocks Loop in Chiricahua, I met two young ladies hiking the same trail I was on. They would pass me with youthful energy, disappear up the trail out of sight, and then as they stopped to rest, I would overtake them with my steady plodding stride. This continued for most of the morning, and each time we would meet, we exchanged greetings and talked for a few minutes. I learned that they were from Switzerland, here on vacation and seeing the sites in the Southwest. There next stop was White Sands National Monument.  

All this got me to thinking about something. Everywhere I’ve traveled across the country – all the parks and forests and attractions, on the trails and at vistas, at campgrounds in rental RV’s – are mobs of foreigners from all over the world. Tour busses unload droves of eager, camera clickers at each pull-out.  It seems that they can’t get enough of our country. 

A while ago I was caught up in the notion that it would be a great adventure – even enlightening – to be a world traveler. Let’s go to New Zealand! Let’s go to Australia!  How about some exotic local in the Caribbean? How I longed to tell everyone I had been there. How I wished I could fly away to distant land; cruise the oceans to adventure and beyond. 

There are over 390 National Parks in the United States and somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 National Monuments. Combine that with hundreds of State Parks, National Forests, and Historical Monuments – literally thousands of square miles of awesome beauty and wilderness – and there’s enough to keep a traveler busy for a lifetime. The average American has seen only a fraction of the beauty of this country.  A lot of people visit a National Park and never walk more than a few feet from their car, others may hike a hundred yards into the forest and then return to their cars, promising never to do anything that strenuous again. 

Is it just that we want to see everything on the run?  Do we want to enjoy this vast and beautiful world at the speed of a metal capsule. Do we want to say we’ve been there and saw it all?  Do we enjoy the thought of traveler to a distant country?

  Now, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with traveling to other countries and enjoying there beauty.  Sometimes there are relatives or history to be gleaned. I would love to see the Great Wall in China and the Pyramids in Egypt  Just that I hear stories of people that retire and travel around the world for a few months, come back home, sit in their easy chair, and then say, “now what?”  Take a look at what is in your own back yard.  The grass is not always greener on the other side of the ocean.