Day 6: 2026 Baja Expedition – La Beluga, San Luis Gonzaga (3/24)

Today was an off day after driving over 1,300 miles in the previous five days. We slept until 7:30, late for us, though the caretaker’s dogs were barking near the motorhome at 4:30 this morning. Tad was so good. He gave a low growl and a quiet “woof,” but didn’t lose his mind over the intruders like many dogs would.

Although we missed the sunrise over the ocean, we awakened to an absolutely perfect day on San Luis Gonzaga Bay. After breakfast, we sipped our coffee and watched birds gliding over the water. The same dogs that woke us earlier came by to make amends. The larger one, a mix that looked like a Great Pyrenees and Golden Retriever, was very friendly. The Australian cattle dog was friendly too, though a bit snippy with Tad.

We went for a long walk along the beach, searching for rocks and shells, and found plenty. We walked out to what must have once been someone’s dream home, now in ruins. About 30 years ago, a storm shifted the river channel, undercutting the foundation. The house, once perched above the beach with expansive windows and a beautiful deck overlooking the ocean, now sits abandoned, a complete loss.

We had visited the ruins last year, and Tad and I climbed up again this year. It’s hard not to feel the weight of it, how something so carefully built can be taken back so quickly.

Back at camp, we bought two hours of internet time and caught up on emails, updated the blog, and checked the news.

 Paying for internet by the hour is a strange experience, you have to let your time expire before you can add more. Add in some translation challenges around technical jargon, and the whole process became a bit comical.

We met Janice's brother Marty's doppelganger, from British Columbia! His name is Richard and we had a nice conversation with him about traveling. 

While we sat there using up our precious minutes online, we noticed Jacqueline searching the shallow water at low tide. After a while, we realized she was hunting for octopus. She found three small ones, cleaned them right there in the surf, and tossed the remains to the gulls.

We had octopus (pulpo) last year in Cabo Pulmo. Randy Webb bought it, and I followed an online recipe. It was okay, but Janice and I both felt a bit uneasy eating it, knowing how intelligent these creatures are.

We spent time watching brown pelicans and gulls diving for fish just offshore. It was incredible to see them working together, plunging into the water in tight formation.

I started writing this yesterday, Tuesday 3/24, but I’m finishing it now. It’s nearly 2 a.m., and Comet isn’t feeling well. She has episodes like this at home. Yesterday she seemed fine on her walk with Janice, though she spent most of the day in her carrier, tucked away in the storage compartment.

Comet has some renal failure. We feed her special food and give her an appetite enhancer, Janice applies a paste to her ear. Hopefully, she’ll feel better in the morning. She’s 16 now, and as with all our aging companions who have passed; Lincoln (2026), Oreo (2021), Eclipse (2020) we will walk with her to the end, doing everything we can to give her comfort, care, and quality of life.

Our pets give us so much love and companionship. We are deeply grateful for our time with them, and for the memories Janice and I share.

I want to share the story of Rafael Diez, our friend who owns Campo Beluga.

We met Rafael on our first Baja trip in 2024. We were looking for a place to stay, and Ken Carloni had mentioned this spot from his Baja botany trips with Umpqua Community College.

We made the slow journey down the wagon road to Campo Beluga, creeping along like a true wagon train. When we arrived, Rafael told us the cost was 300 pesos, cash only. We only had 150. He smiled and said that was fine, we could pay him the rest next time.

The next morning, he invited us into his small two-room home. He offered us water and food and shared stories from his life.

He bought Campo Beluga in the 1970s. He holds dual U.S./Mexico citizenship and worked as a lineman for AT&T. He had a home in San Diego and was married to a woman who is now a judge. Though divorced, they remain best friends.

He laughed as he told us he married Jacqueline, half his age, because he let his “little head” do the thinking.

Rafael loves to talk, and it felt like he needed companionship. We were the only ones at camp. He told us about his cancer, how the treatment made him feel worse, and how his ex-wife wanted him to continue. He spoke about his daughter in Oklahoma, who wants him to move there so she can care for him. He said he’s trying to sell Campo Beluga for $3 million, he was close once, but the deal fell through. It was clear he loves this place deeply and doesn’t want to leave the ocean.

When we left in April 2024, we were sad to say goodbye. We told him we would return.

When we came back in 2025, he was happy to see us. We paid the 150 pesos we owed, though he didn’t want to take it. He had added a couple more dogs, but it was clear the cancer was slowing him down.

He told us stories of San Luis Gonzaga when it was more of a frontier outpost. He talked about Papa Fernandez to the north, a place for food and beer and about a doctor who died after a plane crash on the beach airstrip. He was there when it happened and tried to help.

He also told a story from his AT&T days. He was flown to a classified job near Dallas, where they wanted him to string lines over a nuclear facility. He refused due to the danger. When they threatened to fire him, he came up with an idea, shoot the line over using an arrow. They let him try. It worked. He kept his job.

Rafael believes his cancer may be linked to PCB exposure during his years as a lineman.

Last year, when we left, we invited him to visit us in Oregon. I gave him my card and told him to call anytime. We hugged him goodbye and promised we’d return.

We are sad he isn’t here this time. It’s not the same without him. I’ll try to get his number from Jacqueline tomorrow.

It’s now 3 a.m. Comet has settled into sleep in the cab. She doesn’t like to be jostled when she’s not feeling well.

I hope she feels better in the morning.

As the tide moves in and out under a sky full of unseen stars, I am reminded that everything here, this bay, the ruins on the bluff, Rafael’s stories, and the lives of the animals we love, is part of a larger rhythm we are only beginning to understand. We arrive, we build, we connect, and in time, we let go. Yet nothing is truly lost. It all becomes part of the story, the living memory of this place and of us. Tonight, in the stillness between worry and hope, I feel both the fragility and the beauty of it all. And with gratitude, we choose to simply be present, for this moment, for this journey, and for the love that carries us through it.

Day 5: 2026 Baja Expedition – La Beluga, San Luis Gonzaga (250 miles)

We woke up before 6:30. Janice got up, started the coffee, and took Tad out. He absolutely loves being on the road, mostly because he gets lots of walks. I had taken him out the night before for a nice stroll around Bel Cielo. Comet is loving her wanderings, too, and both of our “fur kids” seem to be enjoying the journey so far.

Before crossing the border, we made a quick stop at Grocery Outlet for toilet paper and toothpaste, just covering all our bases. 😉

We filled up at Costco, and the $5.29 per gallon price tag was sobering. Assuming 15–20 fill-ups of our 50-gallon tank, it’s going to add up quickly, my “scientific calculations” put it somewhere between $500.64 and $650.22 extra for fuel. Enough said on that topic!

After a sanidump, we headed for the border, just 20 minutes from Bel Cielo. The crossing was seamless. There is only one car ahead of us at the Mexicali East station. We rolled up to the scanners, stopped briefly, and were then directed to the right for inspection.

Three men in military uniforms, with very large guns approached the motorhome and directed me to step outside. I told them, “Tenemos un perro amigable y un gato pequeño” (a friendly dog and a small cat). They asked us to take Tad outside while they brought in a shepherd-looking dog to sniff for contraband.

The guards smiled at Tad, and before long we were cleared and directed to a nearby parking lot to get our FMMs and have our passports stamped.

The FMM is required if you’re staying in Mexico more than a week. A young woman, probably in her early 30s, came out to help us. She was a bit terse at first and asked if we spoke Spanish. I replied, “Un poco.”

Even though I’ve been studying Spanish for a few years and know thousands of words, I still freeze up when we arrive in Baja. I worry I’ll mix up my words and accidentally say something ridiculous, like asking to borrow someone’s underwear, or that the handful of Spanish curse words I know will suddenly spill out like loose change from my pocket.

So I go slow at first… building confidence with simple phrases.

As we worked through the forms, she softened. We sometimes worry that people here might associate us with the “Idiot-in-Chief” and the broader tone of politics back home. We feel embarrassed by how people of color are treated. And yet, time and again, we are met with kindness, courtesy, and genuine helpfulness.

With our FMMs in hand, we hit the road south on Highway 5, one of the three main arteries of the Baja Peninsula.

It’s always a little surreal at first, being in a different country, with new measurements, unfamiliar traffic rhythms, a different language and culture. A real “Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz” moment. But this being our third year, it felt more like returning than arriving.

We cruised along at 40–50 mph on a narrow, shoulder-less two-lane highway. Long stretches run straight for miles, but the road is rough, potholes, warped pavement, and sections that rock the motorhome side to side like a boat on choppy water. You have to stay alert and take it slow through the rough patches.

For the first couple of hours, we had good cell reception. Janice played podcasts, read emails and Facebook posts, or we listened to music. We talked about everything, politics, memories, and the journey ahead. Driving for hours can be tiring, but there’s also something deeply relaxing about it. We stopped every couple of hours to stretch and take a break.

As we approached San Luis Gonzaga, we climbed a mountain range with stunning views of the Sea of Cortez, what locals call the Gulf of California. Along the climb and descent are small roadside shrines marking where lives have been lost. I drove carefully, not wanting to check into one of those little “Hotel Californias”, where you can check in, but never check out.

We reached the dirt road to Campo Beluga, rough, washboarded, full of loose rocks and potholes. It took us about 20 minutes to travel the final mile.

We arrived at 4:30. We pulled into our favorite spot—#8.

A woman in her mid-30s came out to greet us. She didn’t speak English, and I told her we’d like to stay two nights. She said it would be 400 pesos per night (about $20). Internet is also available for a charge of 50 pesos ($2.50) per hour. Gulp...

 I asked if our friend Rafael, the owner, was around. She told me he was in the hospital in San Diego undergoing cancer treatment. She introduced herself as Jacqueline, his wife.

Rafael had mentioned before that his wife was much younger, and she appeared to be about half his age. No judgment, just life unfolding in its many forms. I told her we were sorry to hear about Rafael and that we had been friends with him for three years.

We set out the patio mat in the sand next to the palapa. It was a perfect evening, low 80s, a gentle breeze, and a beautiful blue ocean nearing high tide.

We were the only campers when we arrived. Later, a couple from British Columbia showed up, along with a Jeep pulling a small boat and tent.

Tad and Comet joined us outside as we settled in, soaking in Baja. It was perfect.

We had leftover hotdish and a couple of pre-made margaritas, played a game of Rummikub and three rounds of Spite and Malice, and then took a quiet walk on the beach with Tad as the day faded into night. 

As the light softened over the Sea of Cortez and the rhythm of the waves settled into the evening, I was reminded why we make this journey. It’s not just about the miles traveled, but the moments that invite us to slow down, to reconnect, with each other, with the land and sea, and with something deeper within ourselves. In a world that often feels divided and hurried, Baja offers a gentle reminder that kindness, simplicity, and presence still guide the way. And here, under an open sky with grateful hearts, we find our way back to what matters most.

Day 4: Bel Cielo Farms, Brawley, CA 180 miles

Day 4 – Bel Cielo Farms, Brawley, CA

It was a slower day for us today, as we wanted to rest up a bit before heading across the border tomorrow. It only took us about 3 ½ hours to get to Brawley. Along the way, we stopped at a Grocery Outlet to pick up a few supplies.

We arrived at our Harvest Host, Bel Cielo Farms, and quickly got set up. It was already 95 degrees when we pulled in, with the high expected to reach around 100.

Tad and Comet enjoyed wandering  and exploring their new surroundings.

 Eventually, the heat caught up with all of us, and we gave in to a well-earned siesta. Janice, Tad, and Comet retreated into the motorhome while I stretched out on the dog bed and let the afternoon drift by.

Later in the day, I did my annual Fantasy Baseball draft for the upcoming season.

 An hour before the draft, the system randomly assigns the draft order for the 10 teams. Last year, I drew the 10th pick, but this year, I landed the first pick. It all evens out, though, because it’s a “snake” draft, so the 10th pick also gets the 11th, and this year, I had picks 1, 21, and 22, and so on.

I’ve loved following baseball since I was a kid, playing the game and watching and listening to it with my Dad and Grandpa.

I’ve been in the same fantasy league for years now, with dear friends and my son Nick. It’s always fun competing together, exchanging banter, and sharing in the ups and downs of the season.

I often think about listening to St. Louis Cardinals games on the radio with my Grandpa at the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri. He called me his “sidekick.” We fished for catfish using trotlines in the lake,catching shad with a throw net, baiting the lines, and cleaning the fish together. I would not be the same person I am today without the love and care of my grandparents.

I also have fond memories of listening to, watching, and attending Minnesota Twins games with my Dad. He was an avid Twins fan, and it was nearly impossible to pull him away from a game. I remember my sister Lynn and me once setting his watch ahead by 40 minutes so we wouldn’t be late for a movie at the theater.

During the Twins’ championship years of 1987 and 1991, we had so much fun watching the games together. Baseball has been a special and enduring part of my life.

Day 3 – 2026 Baja Expedition Hesperia – 340 miles

We slept well on our second night on the road, although a moaning dog at a nearby house and early morning traffic had us up by 6:30 a.m. Janice made coffee and oatmeal for breakfast while I took Tad out for a walk. By the time I got back, she had the motorhome ready, and we were on the road once again.

We made a stop at the Bakersfield Costco. Last year, Janice bought a pair of pants at a Costco that she absolutely loves, and ever since, we’ve stopped at at least six different Costcos in search of the elusive “magic pants.” So far, no luck. Still, we always try to fill up on gas and enjoy wandering through different stores to see what they carry compared to our Costco in Roseburg.

Once again, I embraced my role as the “King of the Right Lane.” Even if it means cruising along at 55–60 mph instead of pushing 64 in a 70 mph zone, it makes for a far less stressful drive, no pressure to pass big rigs or keep pace with the fast-moving traffic in the left lane. There’s a certain peace in letting the road come to you.

We decided to give Tad a break at the Cesar Chavez National Monument, about two hours from Hesperia. Recent reports have raised troubling allegations about Chavez, which added a layer of complexity to the visit. Still, we stopped out of our deep respect for the farmworker movement and our continued support of working-class people, especially immigrants.

While there, we learned more about Larry “Seven Fingers” Itliong, a Filipino labor leader who played a critical role alongside Chavez. It was a powerful reminder that movements are often broader and more interconnected than the names we remember.

Janice shared a memory from her childhood, when she was just five years old, her mother took her, her siblings, and cousins to a farmworker protest. That experience helped shape her lifelong commitment to standing with and supporting marginalized communities.

After our visit, we drove the final two hours to Hesperia, where we’re staying at another Harvest Hosts location, Three Strikes Brewing. We were here back on April 5, 2024, when it was known as Oak Hills Brewing. That venture didn’t work out, but two local brewers, each having experienced a failed brewery of their own, joined forces for a third attempt. Hence the name: Three Strikes Brewing.

I asked Mike, one of the co-owners, about the name, secretly hoping it had something to do with baseball, but his answer told a deeper story of resilience and second (or third) chances. We talked about our work with the Umpqua Brew Fest and the Umpqua Valley Brewers Guild, and I’m hoping to interview Mike for a future episode of “What’s Brewing?”

We enjoyed pizza and beer before settling in for Comedy Night, where four amateur comedians took the stage. It was surprisingly entertaining. Janice and I were singled out from the crowd as “the seniors” in a mostly middle-aged audience, which led to a fun exchange.

At one point, the conversation turned to dating, and the comedian mentioned OK Cupid, the platform where Janice and I met. That opened the door to a playful moment when we were asked to share our “biggest secrets.”

Janice said, “I’m not from this planet.”

And I replied, “I am God… (and so are you).”

It was one of those spontaneous, joyful moments that seem to happen more often when you’re out on the road.

Once again, we found ourselves connecting with people far from home. Harvest Hosts and Boondockers Welcome have given us a unique way to experience communities across the country. While the stays are technically free, we’re always happy to support these local businesses with food and drinks.

In the end, it’s not just about a place to park, it’s about the people, the stories, and the shared moments along the way. 

Day 2: Baja Expedition: Friday, March 20, 2026 - Red Bluff to Coalinga, CA 340 miles

We woke up at the Tehama District Fairgrounds after a quiet night, despite my usual bout of midnight restlessness. It’s one of our favorite free campsites that isn’t on public land. You simply pull up to a shady spot near a tree, enjoy plenty of great walking areas for Tad, and when morning comes, it’s easy to pull up stakes and be on the road again.

Before buying the motorhome in the fall of 2017, we were devoted tent campers, and we loved it. But as our travels expanded, trips to see my mom in Texas, weddings, and longer journeys, a motorhome began to make more sense for our lifestyle. We once took a beautiful train trip to attend my son Nick and his bride-to-be Alyssa’s wedding, leaving Eclipse, Lincoln, Comet, and Oreo at home. We missed them deeply during that month away, and that feeling helped guide our decision.

During the Umpqua Brew Fest in 2017, Guaranty RV happened to be hosting a sale at the Douglas County Fairgrounds. That’s where we met “Sexy Lexy”, a 2007 Forest River Lexington motorhome with only about 30,000 miles. It didn’t take long for us to decide. Over the past eight-plus years, Lexy has carried us, and our animals, through countless adventures. Truly, it has been one of the best investments we’ve ever made.

Granted, she’s two feet longer than our driveway, and the parking situation by the barn requires a bit of creativity. But in recognition of my ability to adapt (always a plus in my book), I’m proud to say I haven’t attempted backing her into the barn since 2018!

At some point, we may transition to a shorter motorhome. But for now, we remain deeply grateful for our time with Sexy Lexy. I couldn't be happier with the motorhome nor more grateful for all the times we have enjoyed in it.

We spent about six hours on the road today, traveling from Red Bluff to Coalinga, California. The drive was fairly uneventful, no naked pedestrians this time, though traffic was heavier than we prefer in stretches. Janice applied the “passenger brakes” a couple of times, and I accepted her feedback in the spirit it was delivered. We successfully avoided a head-on collision, with each other, and I’m proud of how we’ve learned to navigate those moments together.

Truth be told… she’s usually right. And she’s learned to deliver her observations in a way that penetrates even my thick skull. Progress all around!

Along the way, we listened to the comments the Pacific Northwest Forest Campaign, (a coalition Umpqua Watersheds is part of) is submitting to the BLM regarding the proposed Resource Management Plan. It was over 90 minutes long and incredibly well done. Janice contributed sections related to the Northern Spotted Owl and Barred Owl, and I was reminded, once again, how much knowledge, care, and dedication she brings to this work. We also talked about the many ways current policies are undermining environmental protections on public lands.

The final 90 minutes of a six-hour drive are always the toughest for me. After a heavy dose of policy discussion and a bit of post-lunch drowsiness, I needed a change of pace, music! Janice pulled up KQUA.org, and we listened to our hometown station as we rolled south. Some of the newer songs were unfamiliar, so I resorted to whistling and inventing my own lyrics, which led to some… interesting interpretations, especially during the rap segments.

I may not be a fan of the late afternoon programming, but I trust in Patrick, our sometimes surly (but always dedicated) Program Manager. Tomorrow, we’re planning a “Jon-a-thon,” featuring music from our dear friend Jonathan Foster.

Tonight’s Harvest Host is the R.C. Automotive Museum in Coalinga. Bill, our contact there, was great with communication. Although the museum was closed today, we found a nice shaded spot when we arrived around 4:30 p.m.

Dinner was simple and satisfying, leftovers. Janice enjoyed her meal from last night, and I had corned beef and cabbage from St. Patrick’s Day. Tad, being an Irish Setter, wholeheartedly approved, epecially when a bit of corned beef and cabbage found its way onto his dinner.

We were also grateful to receive a couple of texts from Catherine in response to our updates. As I shared yesterday, she and Nathan are very much in our thoughts.

I’ll close with a reflection on the moment we are living in. There is so much beyond our control, and the challenges facing our country, and the world, feel unprecedented. But we are not powerless.

Do good work.

Stand up for the voiceless.

Refuse to give in to hate.

If we earnestly seek the goodness in one another, regardless of political perspective, we will find it. And in that shared humanity, we can still find a way forward… together.

Day 1 – 2026 Baja Expedition: Red Bluff, California - 280 miles

The first day of our 2026 Baja Expedition started very early. As is too often the case these days, I woke at 12:30 a.m., my mind full of thoughts. I’ve also been dealing with persistent itchiness in my right arm and thigh, remnants of a poison oak encounter back in late January. I suspect it was aggravated by the two shingles vaccinations we received in January and March. I’ve been treating it with oatmeal lotion and an ice pack. It’s a minor irritation, but the itchiness can be maddening, one of those things you simply can’t think your way out of.

About thirty minutes into the first day, I got up, settled into my recliner with an ice pack, and wrote a Facebook message to our dear friend Catherine, who is in the final days of hospice care due to cancer.

Janice and I, along with many others, have been doing what we can to support Catherine and her son, Nathan. As is so often the case, in our efforts to give, we have received so much more in return. It is an honor to walk alongside them during this time.

My thoughts were focused on what will likely be our last time with Catherine in this form.

I remember vividly the moment she first told me she was battling a life-threatening illness. It was after a summer gathering at our dear friends Ken and Jenny Carloni’s home several years ago. I helped her carry a few things to her car, and she shared her burden with me. I told her then, something I believe with every fiber of my being—that life is never terminal. That the essence of who we are has no beginning and no end. That we are all part of something greater, connected to a sentient universe, and that what we call a lifetime is just one expression of that existence. I hugged her and thanked her for trusting me with her truth.

In the years that followed, Catherine held the cancer at bay and continued to live a full and meaningful life. We shared many special moments—Thanksgivings, Fourth of July gatherings, time with the Carlonis, evenings with our friends Jeri and Woody, and events at Umpqua Watersheds.

We were always grateful for more time.

Last summer, she told us the cancer had progressed. Janice and several close friends began taking her to treatments in Bend. I always felt that Janice’s time with Catherine was as healing for her as it was for Catherine.

On our final day in Roseburg before this trip, we brought corned beef and cabbage, leftover from St. Patrick’s Day—to Catherine and Nathan. We sat and talked. Catherine shared that she was now receiving morphine around the clock to manage the pain. She gave us a small booklet explaining what to expect in these final days.

It was hard to leave. But we focused on being present, letting them both know how deeply we love them.

They were, and still are, in my thoughts at 2:00 a.m. on Day 2.

I want to share the message I wrote to Catherine, because it captures what she and Nathan mean to us, and I don’t want to lose that part of this journey:

"Early morning thoughts…

I often feel restless before hitting the road, trying to understand why we are leaving our beloved Umpqua—our home, our friends. This time is the hardest, because I know you will be leaving us soon.

And yet, I feel more certain than ever that taking this journey is the right thing to do.

Thank you for sharing the booklet that helps us understand your road ahead. I was with my mom five years ago as she passed, and I still feel her presence every day. I feel your presence now—and I know I will continue to feel it after you’ve gone, as will all who love you.

In my heart, it feels like we have known each other long before we met. As we drove away from your home, I had the sense that you were there when I was born, perhaps a reflection of your life’s work bringing children into this world.

You are an angel to me, Catherine. You always will be. Your grace and your love will continue to bring comfort.

I am saddened that you are leaving this life with so much physical pain. Your bravery and grace during this time mean more than you can know to all of us who love you.

We will carry you with us as we journey south, seeing beautiful things, renewing the love Janice and I share, and creating space from the heaviness of this moment in history.

We love you and Nathan dearly, and we will hold you both in our hearts as we travel toward new horizons.

Much love,

Kasey"

After getting back to sleep, I woke again at 6:30 a.m. Janice had already been up for some time, working on comments for the BLM’s revised Resource Management Plan. I am continually inspired by her dedication and her willingness to stand up for the land through her work with Umpqua Watersheds.

I spent the morning finishing preparations for the trip—vacuuming the motorhome, washing the floors, and packing the final items. It has long been my goal to be fully ready and on the road by 9:00 a.m. We haven’t quite achieved that yet, but we’ve learned not to stress about it. We move when we’re ready.

By 11:30, we were set to move the motorhome down to the county road so we could load the e-bikes. Our driveway is steep, and the rig is long,  so we drag when we pull ot of the driveway. Janice's brother, David welded steel wheels on the back of the motorhome but the bike rack drags so we have to put it on the flat area on the county road. I drove the motorhome down while Janice followed in the Escape with the bike rack.

After getting everything secured, we returned briefly to the house, loaded the bikes, and officially began our journey.

We made quick stops at Costco for gas and U-Haul for propane, and by 12:30 p.m., we were heading south on I-5 toward our first destination: the Tehama District Fairgrounds in Red Bluff, California, where we would meet our friends Steve and Pattie for dinner.

The drive, about 280 miles over five and a half hours, was mostly uneventful. One highlight: we were delighted to find that we could still clearly pick up KQUA 90.5 well past Canyonville. 

Janice read the news aloud, and we listened to music along the way.

There was, however, one unforgettable moment. About an hour north of Redding, just past Mount Shasta, I noticed someone running across the highway. As we approached, we realized he was completely naked, except for a pair of sandals. He paused briefly at the median, waiting for a break in traffic, his bare backside greeting us as we passed at 65 miles per hour.I gave a quick honk. We’ll never know why the naked man crossed the road… but it certainly added a bit of unexpected color to the journey.

We arrived in Red Bluff and had a wonderful dinner at Carlito’s with Steve and Pattie. It was so good to reconnect—there’s something about being on the road that opens space for deeper conversation.

After dinner, we made our way to the fairgrounds, set up camp, and settled in for the night. It was quiet and peaceful, and I slept well… until 12:30 a.m. And so, now, at nearly 3:00 a.m., after writing this, taking Tad for a walk, and finally feeling the itchiness subside, I’ll return to bed, ready to dream about the adventure ahead.

Day 41: Home

 

The camping spot had some nice trails in the area so we ventured out with Tad to get some exercise and give him plenty of opportunity to empty his bowels and bladder. It was cold but the sun peaked out fairly often. 

The pets vied for the premier spot on the final leg of our journey. We stopped one more time for gas and the Crater Lake Junction. I picked up some coffee for both of us to be sure we remained alert.

It really starts feeling like home when you travel the North Umpqua with it's spectacular views and rock formations. 

Even in it's destruction, the recovery of the Archie Creek fire area was in beautiful fall foliage.

Our journey successfully ended and the sky gave us a colorful "good night" complete with fall foliage of our own.

The next day would be dictated by the accumulation of laundry and mail, some things often neglected for other more pleasurable activities. But it eventually catches up to you.

In addition to death and taxes, laundry and mail should be listed as inevitabilities.