Day 2: To SLO

We awoke rested and made our way almost immdediately onto the road. We were in Humboldt county in no time, famous for it's redwoods. We wanted to take advantage of this fact so we took a scenic route called the Avenue of the Giants. It was amazing. The trees are so amazingly massive, and this particular area was home to the 2nd tallest tree in the world.

We marveled at what we saw, and as we emergedx from the Avenue, we came upon a large sign saying "World Famous Drive Through Tree". Scott and I both had memories of seeing pictures of this tree from the 50s with people driving through it in full bemusment and abject joy.

We decided to try it.

We should have been suspicious by the fact that this was not on the road and the fact that we were charged two dollars each to enter.

I must say that it was underwhelming.





















However, it was still fun to wander around the tourist trap.

We then drove and drove and drove, making our way through all of central California to San Luis Obispo. We arrived in SLO at around 11:30pm or so.

Phil Greene was there waiting for us with a fantastic welcome. It was so great to see him and Emily that we talked for a few hours that night, retiring at around 1:00am.

Distance travelled: aprox. 600 miles. Travel time: 14 hours.

Day One: Prequel and Conclusion

When last we left you, we were waiting for a guy to replace our tire on the side of I-5 in southern Oregon.

Much has transpired since then, but it is probably best to start at the beginning, and work our way to the present from there.

We were supposed to head out on this trip on Tuesday, September 30. But then the hitch happend.

Not a metaphorical hitch, mind you. But a very real, metal and grease hitch. In order to pull our Honda with The Bus, we needed to install a hitch. When I checked online 5 days before our departure date, it seemed this would be no problem. However I went to the U-Haul on Main St., followed by the one on 99th St, followed by the one on Fourth Plain, followed by the one in Beaverton, followed by the Hitch Center in Beaverton before I found out that U-Haul could not install the hitch on the customized bus I was driving. This after being assured at each spot that this would not be a problem.

In the end, a chain-smoking monster truck enthusiast named Derrick fabricated a custom hitch using the hitch I'd purchased in Vancouver, and welded it to the frame of the bus.

U-Haul, after much comical/infuriating delaying finally got us up and running on the first of October at about 10:30am.

So Scott and I headed off with hopes high of finally making some headway on this adventure. And we did. Until Rice Valley, OR.

We were trundelling along (max speed 55 mph) when we heard a huge BANG and immediately pulled over. It was instantly clear what the problem was. (Here we are waiting for the man.)
















But how to solve it...

We had no spare, no jack and no AAA service. So we used our awesome and super handy mobile internet conneciton to research the cheapest way to get a new tire on our car and determined it was AAA. So I called the Tidewater branch in Virginia and signed up. They sent a guy right out, which is where our tale picks up.

We found Jason to be a great help to us. He was a fairly portly, jovial guy in his mid-twenties with a black cowboy hat, loose fitting pants and was severly underequipped for the job. He removed the problem tire, but here was problem 1.

Problem 1: Scott and I, both having grown up in Africa, think that tires have tubes in them, which need to be replaced. This is not the case in the modern country we live in now. Jason couldn't mount the tire we'd run into town to buy on the rim without equipment. So this necessitated another jaunt in to Sutherlin to mount the rim.

We got back to the Les Schwab where 30 minutes earlier we had purchased the tire and asked them to mount it.

Initially we were mistakenly sent into the garage with our Honda, where they carefully lined us up on the hydraulic lift and prepared to jack our car into the air. We let them know that the wheel was not mounted onto THIS car, and they quickly sent us back out into the parking lot. We waited in the showroom, which was one of the nicest I've ever been in. As we stood behind the counter, I noticed that Scott was leaning on a piece of glass that said "Do not lean on glass". I turned to point this out to him and in so doing caught a brand new phone with my hand and it flew to the ground, stunning and terrifying all parties in the store with it's clatter. The employees were gracious but clearly a bit irked by this idiot customer who doesn't know that tires dont' have tubes anymore, tries to get on hydraulic lifts for no reason and hurls phones to the floor at the drop of a hat.

Sigh.

So after long last we made our way back to the car, waited 45 minutes for Jason to come back and mount the tire.

However Jason returned in a much bigger tow truck, capable of towing just about any vehicle, perhaps even a semi, but with a jack half the size of the one he had before. This jack probably would struggle jacking up the Honda, much less the absolute beast that is the The Bus.

So Jason, sweat pouring from his brow, curses pouring from his mouth, pants pouring off his behind, squirmed around under the bus for a good while, trying to make the impossible happen, pull water from wine as it were, in this case water being a crappy jack and wine being a jack that would have worked.

It was a no go.

So Jason had me drive the inner wheel up onto a 4 by 4 wood board so he could hobble the jack into giving enough clearance to put on the new tire. It worked, sort of.

After much more sweat, swearing and butt cleavage, the tire was on. Hooray for Jason!

We parted as dear friends, hands were firmly shaken, goodbyes solemnly taken and we were once again off.

Back to Southerlin. We were almost out of gas. We had lost four hours of our day in the blowout saga.

---

After dinner at Burger King (at which I used a gift card, a transaction never before done at this BK, and Scott ordered a wrap, the first order of its kind at this viriginal establishment, the process of making this wrap took over 15 minutes and required the use of an official BK cookbook) we took the Sissikayou mountain pass to get to the coast. It was beautiful in the last minutes of daylight, but The Bus struggles mightly to go up hills, and usually maxes out at 25 mph on long ones. So it was slow.

Slow but beautiful. As we headed every farther down to the coast we came upon stand after stand of redwood, which neither Scott nor I had ever seen before. 199 curls and curves in and out of these massive trees, making the going slow but stunning. The Bus has no brights, so on low beams you suddenly see a tree the size of which can not be described without seeming exaggerated overwhelming your front view. You slowly make your way around, the immense base of these trees literally abutting the roadway, passing a couple feet from your vehicle. The feeling of being swallowed up by these absolutely immense organisms is, quite honestly, frightening. A feeling of mild terror and awe was upon me as we wended through stand after stand of these ancient beings. It was humbling and powerful.

We finally ended up in Crecent City, CA at about 11:30pm, where we crashed at America's Best Value Motel, not the paragon of quality but a warm place to sleep and sack out.

Day One. Just outside of Rice Valley, OR

Here we sit, on the side of Interstate 5, at exit 146 in Oregon, Rice Valley. Our trusty old bus, which just cost me a small fortune in getting a custom built, welded to the frame hitch has decided that its right, rear outer tire was ready to pass on to the Great Tireyard in the sky.


















We left Beaverton, OR to the strains of "We Shall Overcome", gleefully, and perhaps foolishly, thinking that all that could go wrong on the trip had, before we even left!, so things would be smooth sailing all the way to Glendale, Ky.

But fate had other things in store for our intrepid duo.

We feel like this right now:































However, spirits are quite high, despite numerous unjust and cruel setbacks.

Scott is a delightful co-pilot, nothing fazes him, and he's up for whatever. I'm doing ok, but hoping that each day of the trip gets better and better. Otherwise, this will be a long six days. If we can do it that quickly.

Our tire hand just arrived, so more later.