About Two Puffs

Having nowhere to be until August 5th, at first we decided just to head toward Sacramento and see what happens. I had been trying to get internet service for some time, without luck. Then we decided to just call RPI and see what they could do for us, since we are members.

I told the RPI specialist that we did not have an internet connection, so I could not find a park on my own. Could she please find something between Redding and Sacramento for us? After tossing around a few ideas and her making some side inquiries, we had to widen our search both toward the coast and toward Nevada. There just wasn’t anything available along the I-5 corridor.

We termed this new way of deciding where to go, “RV roulette.” Letting someone else or fate or whatever decide where we will go next. Another way to play would be to lay a map out flat, close your eyes, and point.

The roulette way of life isn’t new to us. When Ken and I were first together, he worked two jobs, while I worked one and was raising two kids as a single mom. We often played movie roulette by showing up at a theatre and seeing whatever was playing next. Sometimes we saw some really bad movies, a few times we walked out they were so bad, but mostly we had a great time and saw some good movies we otherwise would not have chosen.

The RPI specialist gave us two choices: One toward the coast and one toward Nevada. Since the fires have been especially bad this year, and it definitely looked worse to the west, we decided that heading east was the better option.

We got general directions and headed for Snowflower RV Resort, with optimism in our hearts and not a sign of anxiety in mine (see post from a few days ago). Little did we know how far it would be or that we would be climbing to over 6,000 feet before we got there, well after dark. Maybe we should have asked a few more questions, but then we would have changed our minds, and I am very glad to be here. It is overwhelmingly beautiful and peaceful amongst the trees, and we have a spot right on the lake. Being in a high fire risk area, campfires are not allowed. Plus none of the smoke from all the forest fires has reached this far, so the air is crisp and clean.

The view from our door.

Since I’ve been able to log on to the internet, I’ve since found out that a bad fire started along the I-5 corridor, where we had just come from, in the Shasta-Trinity National Forest. The area has been choked with smoke. Maybe that’s why God directed us away from Bushytail.

Speaking of the forest fires, our last day in Yreka, we had breakfast at Black Bear Diner. On our way out, an older gentleman saw that our truck had Oregon plates, so he asked, “Are you coming from the north? How far until the end of the smoke?”

“About two puffs,” Ken replied.

As the gentleman walked away chuckling, he said, “There’s always one in every crowd.”

Peace and love,

Jenni

Beautiful People

Morning finally came after a fitful night of sleep, dry camping at the rest stop where the Raven had broken down. My nights are especially fitful when we dry camp because, without power, I am without my CPAP. I have a very bad case of sleep apnea, which includes episodes when my brain forgets to tell my body to breathe.

The AAA tow truck towed us ten miles into Yreka to a garage called A1 Auto. Their first assessment of the situation was as we had feared—the starter and solenoid needed to be replaced. Didn’t we just have our regular garage overhaul the starting and charging systems? Yes. Yes, we did.

We signed off on their estimate, but after they began the work, they found the real problem. Now, I’m not a mechanic, so I don’t know the proper terminology. Just bear with me. The last person who replaced the ignition module thingy did not do the most crucial step of smearing grease or goo or insulation gel under it. Without the goo, it shorted out the whole system. We were not happy, and needless to say, we have to go back on the first guys for financial resolve on a few matters.

My stress level and lack of quality sleep were eating away at the last little bit of fortitude I had remaining. When they said our rig would not be completed that night, well I was very near tears.

We (including Tinker Belle) parked ourselves in the coolness of their waiting area for the duration of their open hours. I found a bible amongst their reading material and read a bit. People came and went. A nice Hispanic family joined us for a short while. They had picked up a few peaches at a stand down the street, and she gave me one. It was a sweet blessing.

All the people we had dealt with up to this point in Yreka have all been beautiful people. When I say beautiful, I am not talking about outward appearances. I mean the beauty from within, the beauty God sees. The glow of a kind and generous soul. The bubbliness of a joyous spirit.

Then a very beautiful woman and her son came into our little sanctuary from the outside world. We had such wonderful, beautiful conversations, and if we had not been traveling in different directions, I venture that we could easily have become fast friends. Her name is Willow, and I believe her mother named her correctly, as I can see the grace and beauty of a magnificent willow tree in her actions and words, the way she so openly cares and gives of herself, joyously.

Willow told us a bit of wisdom from her grandmother, which is that “Breakdowns lead to breakthroughs.” We’ve yet to encounter that breakthrough, though.

The guys at A1, by all rights, could have told us to go find a motel for the night, but they allowed us to sleep in our rig, inside their locked fence. (Yes, we had the  lock combination in case of emergency.)

All of the staff there was so wonderful to us that Ken had to bring them a box of donuts from Raley’s to say thank you.

By noon the next day, we were all fixed and settled up with them, and ready to hit the road again, but we no longer had a destination.

You will have to tune in tomorrow to see what happened next!

Love and blessings,

Jenni

This Is The Day

“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24

The above psalm is one of my favorites. In fact, it is one of my life verses, those few verses that really resonate in my soul and that I strive the most to live by.

July 27th was the day we chose to set out again, after spending a week at home with the boys. After a long, grueling week, finishing all the things we had left undone a month ago, we set out. Since our reservations were for Bushytail Campground in the Shasta-Trinity National Forest (and that’s such a long way from Portland), we decided to spend one night dry camping at a random rest stop along the way.

We tried to sleep, but sleep would not come easily, and we ended up leaving the rest stop early the next morning. We were both so full of excitement about our upcoming adventures. Crossing the Oregon/California border, in my mind, was the point where there was no turning back. We were actually on our journey.

Portland is no longer our home. It is where we hail from.

This realization came with many more realizations and with many tears last week as I said goodbye to Portland and all I love who live there.

When we finally crossed the California border, we sailed right through. The mountainous highway was heating up the Raven, but she was hanging in there. We stopped at the rest stop just inside California, to let her cool and also so that we could take a break and regroup. We still had too many miles left to go without a decent rest first.

Up to this point, I had been having much trepidation about the long drive to Bushytail, but I could not put my finger on any specific reason. I chalked it up to general anxiety about having to drive the truck by myself, following Ken in the Raven, the whole way. I do have the pleasure of Tinker Belle’s Company in the truck with me, and she is a great comfort, but she’s not a relief driver.

Concerning me driving: I am a perfectly capable driver, but I have these pain issues. Ken and I had many long talks about the need for me to drive. We also agreed that how far, or even whether, we drive would be dependent on me and how I felt that day. If I need to stop, we stop. No questions, arguments, or cajoling. We simply stop when I say stop. We carry walkie talkies to communicate as we drive. This is much better than trying to call him on the cell phone, which is illegal, as we all know. A walkie talkie is so much easier to use, anyway. When I need to say something, all I have to do is push a button and talk. If that fails, I flash my high beams.

After two hours of rest, we got back into our rigs and prepared to hit the road again. Click click. Click click. The Raven would not start.

My anxieties grew. Had we made the right decision? Five surgeries (Ken three, Trevor two) and a stint in the ICU (Ken) had kept us tied to Portland for the past three years. Was God telling us, again, that this wasn’t the time? Lord, please tell me what to do next.

We decided to let the Raven  have a few more hours to cool off, thinking that was the problem, and I resolved to live the psalm I quoted earlier. No matter what, I had to find the joy in even this situation, because whether I became angry or happy, it was all a choice within my power. We took the camp chairs, a blanket, some food and drinks, and a toy for Tink, and we settled ourselves beneath a large maple. And we laughed. We people watched. We saw deer as they came down out of the hills for water, as evening approached. We took a nice walk along the river. We played fetch with Tink. We had a wonderful evening.

All this joyousness despite the situation, yet I still had this underlying anxiety about Bushytail I could not shake.

We tried to start the Raven again. Nothing. We tried cross jumping from the house batteries. Nothing. We tried jumping from the truck. Still nothing. So we gave up, resolved to call AAA in the morning, preferring not to spoil any more of the Lord’s day (as it happened to be a Sunday) with any more of this trouble. Out of necessity, there would be a second night of dry camping.

But there was still our reservations to deal with. If we didn’t make it to Bushytail by evening, we would lose our space and the money we already shelled out for it. The decision was made to try to cancel. I called, and luckily, we were able to get most of our money back. They kept the first night’s charge, plus a cancelation fee.

I cannot explain it, but my anxiety evaporated after canceling our plans. Was this God’s way of saying He didn’t want us to go to Bushytail? I may never know. What I do know is that after the Raven was fixed, we had an equally long drive ahead of us, and I hadn’t an ounce of anxiety in my whole body.

Love and blessings,

Jenni