Day Eleven: Wednesday, May 30th, Yosemite Pines RV Resort

Driving, driving, and more driving.

I’m not California’s biggest fan at this point. It’s just not tripping my trigger. I’m not sure what I expected, but whatever it was is not being realized. I’ve just got a not-so-great vibe going. Sigh.

We did pass through San Fran today. Made a quick stop of it. Crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, just because (the not-so-great vibe tells me the toll bill we’ll be getting in the mail will be more than $0.50). Ventured into the heart of the beast to drive down Lombard Street, and the one-block stretch of it that claims eight switchbacks. Fun stuff. We even tried to get down to Chinatown, but the one-way streets were stacked against us, and the hills were mocking our self-conscious transmission. We called it a San Francisco treat, ducked into the tunnel to the Bay Bridge, and got outta’ dodge.

SF proper may have been kind of quaint, but the whole smog-lined area was a little more than I could pretend to enjoy. This country girl will take the sweet smell of manure over all that exhaust any day.

So. Many. People.

Let’s just say I was itching to get out.

Eight switchbacks crammed into one standard-length block

And eventually we did. After a million ups and downs taking us into the Sierra Nevadas, we came to the cute little town of Groveland, and our cute little RV park beyond.

OK. Cute wasn’t the right descriptor. But it is an RV park that is not just a giant parking lot, so we’re already beating the odds. Also, the temperatures have been steadily climbing since we left SF, and our little park has a free in-ground pool. A clean one. And showers. Clean, and also free. These things are not to go unnoticed.

We’ll be here for four nights while we explore Yosemite, and while the proprietors have some ill-conceived ideas of tents being the size of pop sockets, and self-leveling to boot, we are hopeful that the pool (and Yosemite itself!) will compensate.

Down below our penthouse suite, where the common folk reside, there is the coolest rig. It’s an RV disguised as a minivan, slathered in green and purple.

OK, so the colors aren’t exactly what I’d choose, but it’s a rental. They’re going for shock value.

This thing is amazing. Sleeps four (sweet cartop pop-up combined with a collapsible bench area down below). Full kitchen. In fact the back bumper says just that. “Everything including the kitchen sink. Jucy Rentals–look ’em up. Apparently all the rage in New Zealand, and now pushing into CA and Vegas.

I kinda want one.

The nice folks in the Jucy are not American. There is some disagreement amongst those of us who have spoken to them as to exactly where they hail from, but we can all agree it is not here. In fact, hardly anyone here is American. We are absolutely the minority in this campground. The only born’n’bred English I’ve heard so far has been from the yurt down by the bathrooms. Two good ol’ boys with busted hearing aids screaming at eachother at all hours. They really like the F-bomb. Thank God for the foreign tourists.

This is how I found Larry yesterday…too relaxed?

In other news, this message came through from Colfax’s finest Dragon Spa this afternoon: >>>>>

I guess he heard we had a pool, and wanted to remind us that he is all pool all the time.

Yeah. I think it’s official. That lizard ain’t never coming home.

License Plate Update:
Down to RI, DE, KY, and the great golden doubloon HI!

Tonight we cooked our dinner over what we have to believe were hunks of redwood, or some other species resembling iron. One of the campsites up the goat trail form ours was chock full of someone’s leftover firewood, and Scott being Scott, a rescue mission was mounted. Each piece was only six inches long, so building a fire with it was a new and different challenge, but once you get that stuff going, it makes an oak-coal fire look like pine. She burns hot, and forever. I’m pretty positive I’ll be able to wake up in the morning and cook eggs on the leftover embers.

Yosemite, here we come!
KJ

The Whole Enchilada: