Shakedown cruise 
July 16, 2014

One of the songs played at my zumba class includes the line: “Here we go!”  That phrase was running through my head as we embarked on our shakedown cruise for the new trailer.  At 31.5 feet in length, she dwarfs the previous Totee, which we think has already found a new family to adventure with.

This has been quite a learning curve for us.  I am grateful that we first had a smaller RV to allow us time to become accustomed to the ins & outs & all-abouts of RVing.  Even with that extensive background, we are finding some of the changes daunting.

Our first time of backing this larger trailer into our minuscule driveway went fairly well.  Unlike its smaller predecessor, this one consumes the entire pad, so we cannot leave the truck hooked up while we load.  The curvature of the drive, the tilt of the truck as its front end is down into the street, and the obstruction of traffic whilst we fiddle/faddle around with hooking and so on have combined to convince us not to put this trailer in the driveway again - problematic!

Options are to park on the street and cart foodstuff and clothing down and around, or to load it all into boxes in the truck and take it to the storage lot to load there.

Ah yes, the storage lot . . . now that’s a story unto itself.  When purchasing our Cliff Rose house, we were a bit disappointed that there is no place to keep the RV at home as we did in Chino.  The upside was that the development has its own reasonably priced storage lot for residents.  The tiny Totee resided therein just right, like Mama Bear.

This one, however, manifested Papa Bear tendencies and kicked up quite a fuss about the situation.  First obstacle to getting to the lot was the steep(!) downgrade ending in a 90-degree turn.  The first time we tried it (and most emphatically the last), the front tires turned as instructed, but the loose road surface allowed the truck and trailer to proceed forward instead of turning, causing us to skid with startling momentum toward the cliff edge. 

Out of control in a huge rig is nowhere on my list of desired activities.  I'm fairly sure my screeching helped not one iota.  Despite my panic, Chris managed to adjust the trailer brake lever to put more brake on the trailer and less on the truck bringing us to a halt (great sighs of relief).

Self-preservation induced me to abandon ship - Chris and all.  Courageous driver then attempted to back away from the dropoff, resulting in additional skidding (As I was no longer in the truck, I managed to keep quiet).  Not giving up, my pard finally prevailed, backed up enough to get sorted out and made the precarious turn.

Another hour or so was required to get the rig maneuvered into her allotted slot, a wholly insufficient space for such a behemoth.  Truth be told, I doubt there are many folks who could have manged that exceedingly tricky back-in parking job as well as Chris did.

With that experience behind us, we made great haste in finding a different place to park our new acquisition; Totee II will now idle away her down time in Chino Valley - on a tabletop-level lot.

Yadda yadda yadda . . . more trailer talk . . . enough already with the trials and tribulations.  Now to proceed to the fun and games that all the trials and tribulations made possible.

We be teaching RVing . . .

To be sure, these past few years of RVing every back road we could find, every obscure camping site on town parks, county fairgrounds, forested lakeshores, urban jungles, prairie vistas, beaches, industrial parks, oil-well-infested deserts and mountain streams will all culminate in a sharing of our combined knowledge at a Yavapai College class in October.  A first for us - co-teaching - will be great fun as we endeavor to help folks choose the right RV for themselves, and hopefully to prevent them making the many mistakes that we have made/are making. 

Spread the word, if you will: we hope to have a good turnout.

Elvis . . .

When a person determines to spend a few days at an RV site in Williams, Arizona, a person probably expects to do some hiking in the forest, a bit of fishing at the lakes there and some backroading.  At least that is what I anticipated.  Top of the list of things I would never expect to do while RVing in Williams is attending an Elvis impersonation, but that is what we ended up doing.

In fact, Elvis is our next-door neighbor.

Evidently, this is a summer-long affair, transpiring every Friday and Saturday night right at the KOA.  Kenny Lee as Elvis is a marvelous performer, good singer, and a most personable feller.  His enthusiasm and interaction with the audience (and that smile!) made for such an enjoyable concert on Friday that I couldn’t resist doing the whole thing again on Saturday. 

Circle Pines . . .

Like most KOA campgrounds, this one caters to families: in this particular case, hosting a tremendous number of children, all of whom are inclined to shriek shrilly throughout pruned-skin-inducing stays at the swimming pool which is right outside our door.

A typical evening of Chris' music, now with the new rig.

We are also required to wear odd red wristbands during our stay, as if we had been admitted to the hospital and were in dire straits.  The stated reason for the bracelet requirement is this: Because the facility must haul in every last drop of water used here, someone (who could ostensibly be identified by the lack of said wristband) might attempt to sneak in and abscond with that precious resource.  No, I don't exactly follow the reasoning, but we may be finding out about the wristband police: we cut ours off in favor of not wearing them to church.  Yes, we drove back to Prescott for Sunday service because Chris was scheduled to provide the music, almost all of which was original, including one wonderful melody, "Dreaming of rain", that he sang.

 

We were worried about how blind Rowdy would adapt to the new environment, but he has done remarkably well, finding his way to everything he needs and even having an evening stroll on the patio, not bad for a sightless 18-year-old.

Bearizona . . .

The señor had never been to Bearizona, an interesting wildlife park in Williams, so I set out to remedy the omission.  As it turned out, we spent most of a day there and enjoyed every minute.  First the drive-through in our car, craning our necks to see the nearby bears, wolves and other more mundane animals, including even a few burros, one of my favorite-ever animals, having spent many a happy childhood hour with them, but that's another story.

I shot a few portraits of Bearizona residents.

 

We were told these monsters can jump as high as six feet - a sight I would love to behold!

We were treated to a top-quality birds-of-prey show and were walking through the zoo-like section when we happened upon a friend from Prescott, Cecil - what are the chances!  He was there with a contingent from Prescott’s Mexican sister city of Caborca, a few of whom enthusiastically posed for a photo op.

We spent an inordinate amount of time watching two river otter brothers performing agua-feats and hip-hopping around on land, seemingly showing off for our amusement.  They are so much larger than I realized from seeing them in the Verde River.

The young-bear enclosure was a real eye-opener: after watching them scamper up trees as easily as I walk across the living room, I may never hike in the woods again with quite the same feeling of security.

Not prone to half-way measures, we opted to also take the bus tour - an amusing and educational ride and to drive through in the truck once more.  I believe in getting my money’s worth.

A look around, merganser(!) . . .

I like the idea of trail systems connecting regions across the country, even though I don't often utilize them.

Having not been up in this neck of the woods for any extensive look-seeing for quite a spell, we wandered random dirt roads and were appalled at what we saw of droughty effects, which are, in a word, awful.  Kaibab Lake was lower than I’ve ever seen it and Cataract scarcely deserves the lake designation.  Haven’t been southward much yet, so Dog Town's and White Horse’s conditions remain to be seen.

A walk-around at Kaibab netted (only figuratively of course) additional bird identifications for the trip, none of which I have mentioned yet.  I was exceedingly surprised to find a lone common merganser patrolling back & forth near the shore.  My book says this is their winter range and as we are in the latter part of July, that does not apply.  It also explains they are typically in a group and prefer deep clear water, none of which works for this guy, but the i.d. was definite.  Maybe he's holding down the fort for the remainder of the flock to return later.

Other birds for the trip include collared dove, pygmy nuthatch, Steller’s jay, Brewer’s blackbird, turkey vulture, gray-headed dark-eyed junco, killdeer, spotted towhee, white-breasted nuthatch, osprey, lesser goldfinch, northern flicker, western scrub jay, great blue heron, violet-green swallow, barn swallow, broad-tailed hummingbird, rufous hummingbird, kingbird and raven.

As usual, we have our feeders out to see what we attract, in this case, an aggressive rufous hummingbird.

One osprey nest we photographed was occupied by two juveniles and an alert parent (a second was whirling overhead) that warned us off when we approached too closely.  Another nest at the lake was astoundingly deep (estimated at eight feet) and inhabited by a lone adult that departed when I failed to heed its call of warning.

Up and over . . .

In need of a good long hike, we drove as far as was advisable on a washed-out dirt road (possibly a little further than advisable, but that’s a given with us), shouldered our packs and set off down the road, wondering all the while how much we would hate ourselves when we had to return upwards on those steep grades.

Not sure if we'll be putting those boats into the scanty water hereabouts.

Having encountered no other of the human variety in the neighborhood, I was dismayed to discern the sound of dreaded ATVs proceeding in our direction.  As I often do when I’m in the boonies, I assiduously avoid contact with others of my species. 

In this case, the necessity was to get off the track and secrete myself in a place where I would not be obligated to hail my fellows.  Managing to share my need for solitude with the señor, he followed me up the steep slope that the trail was edging along.

We scrambled up the brushy mountainside, avoiding the dreaded encounter.  After the off-roaders passed, a quick assessment of our position made it seem sensible to continue up-slope toward a very jagged rocky peak way up yonder; after all, we were partway there anyway.

All this country is volcanic in origin; our particular mountainside consisted of red rubbly rocks that made climbing challenging, not to mention it was one steep son-of-a-gun.  After a good workout and enjoyment of the views of Bill Williams Mountain and even in the distance to the Camp Wood mountains misting far off, we rested on a ridge top for a respite and lunch.

From our perch atop the ridge, we looked down on this old still-working ranch site, wondering about its history.

Finding ourselves at a summit meant the only way out would be down, not always the easiest of propositions, but in this case not bad at all.  This region is heavily populated by elk (none of which we have spotted as yet, but their sign is abundant); consequently, we were able to get through the brush effortlessly by following game trails hither and thither.  The other side of the mountain was not as steep as the slope we climbed, so we quite enjoyed our traverse back to our new truck, which by the way is quite a marvel with its fancy geegaws and gadgets.  The back-up camera is beyond cool!

Cohonino site, mystery . . .

With some difficulty, another cast-about allowed Chris to relocate a prehistoric dwelling site he had taken Elderhostel groups to a couple of decades ago.  Sadly, what had been an undisturbed pristine site is now nearly unrecognizable because of extensive woodcutting and associated activity.

While searching for the site, I came across a porcupine den that had had one entire side dug out, an unusual sight.  We could think of no explanation except the possibility of a bear digging for the occupant.

I've had days when I felt like this.

Now that the summer rains have begun, feeble though they may be, a green carpet is in the making.

Seen on a washed-out rusty culvert section.  Anyone have an idea?

Sadly, with those humongous wind turbines on that hillside, I'm sure we will no longer hike over there.

Seriously???  Can't imagine how many millions of tax dollars are expended to alert us to this reduced load carrying capacity of a whopping seven pounds.

I even like my new picnic tablecloth.