Veering off my usual path, I decided to talk about taking the roads back home to our places of origin. This six week RV road trip to California began near Jackson in western Tennessee where Jerry was born amid cotton fields and farmland. One uncle, abundant cousins and their families still reside here. It’s not unusual for fifty or more kin to pack into Uncle Edward and Aunt Jewell’s farmhouse during holidays and get-togethers. Sadly many of the elderly have passed on, but their strong family values and wonderful memories live on.
1,100 miles later we bedded down at Turquoise Campground low in the mountains east of Albuquerque, New Mexico. I hadn’t seen my nephew since his school days and who’s now in the Air Force. Married last year during Covid-19, it was a special blessing to finally meet his wife, discover how much we all have in common, and make tentative plans for camping. Because come early Fall, there will be a new addition to our family!
Continuing along I-40 with nostalgic sections of Route 66, we side-tracked through Petrified Forest National Park and the Painted Desert. A mystical landscape of colorful layered hills rose through ancient Indian petroglyphs, relics, and a forest preserved for future generations of explorers.
None of this wonder compared to reuniting with my younger sister just outside Flagstaff, Arizona. Dad’s archived slides and photographs triggered a common laugh and numerous anecdotes: mountain breakfasts and picnics; clambering up boulder heaps in Joshua Tree; swimming all day at the beach; and fishing creeks of the lower Sierras near Bishop. Memories of our mischievous brother, loving parents, doting grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles were bittersweet, having lost most, but was overpowered by new joys of grandchildren and expanding families.
San Diego’s sunshine and swaying palms provided an idyllic backdrop for kayaking portions of Mission Bay—a nesting area for terns who dive-bombed when venturing too close; a yacht club and marina of sailboats beckoning; a blue heron contemplating his next move…
Other activities included the scenic bike path partway around the bay and treading carefully the tidal moonscape along La Jolla’s shades of blue ocean. Each day we joined my favorite cousin for meals, talks, and walks along sandy shores.
Two hours north the shock of Orange County traffic was only slightly less than the price of gas—over $5.00 per gallon! Huntington Beach and its vicinity had been my home until Jerry and I sailed off into the sunset in 1998. It’s difficult to describe the fullness of emotions upon returning to the individuals and landmarks that helped form you, that are engraved forever into our hearts and minds. For ten glorious days we immersed ourselves within the lives of beloved family not visited in over two years, and close friends, some not seen in over a decade. Relationship trials and losses had challenged us emotionally, and physically we’d altered a bit, but re-entry into our friendships felt like only days had passed.
We shared stories and laughter while visiting old haunts such as Super Mex, known for humongous burritos and Harbor House’s fish and chips, whose cozy nooks and walls are plastered with classic movie posters. My all-time favorite is always fresh sushi downtown at Sushi On Fire. On Tuesdays there’s always “Local’s Night” in Huntington Beach. The gaiety of live bands and colorful dress intermingles with mouth-watering spicy Mexican, sweet funnel cakes frying, sizzling meats, and Farmer’s market scents of strawberries, peaches, lavender, and fresh-cut flowers. Charlie, almost four, didn’t talk much, but held hands and swayed to the music as we sauntered up Main St. All that wonderful food complimented with a margarita or glass of wine was thankfully balanced by plenty of exercise:
—Hikes among Bolsa Chica Wetlands gifted us with wading egrets on stilted legs and common curlews with long curved beaks catching fish in the shallows, protected western snowy plover, scurrying sandpipers, nesting black-helmeted least terns, and low-flying pelicans gliding just above the bay.
—Bike rides along the beach path to the pier, passing squirrel colonies, surfer dudes and dudettes.
—Kayaking narrow canals of Naples, a tiny haven of quiet serenity nestled within congested neighborhoods.
—Building sand castles and wading in the shallows where silky sand sucks at your feet, and the briny air sticks to your skin, curling hair.
—As the sun sank into June gloom’s marine layer the ocean’s rhythmic gentle roar and hiss plus nostalgic smells of beach fires, roasting hot dogs and marshmallows soothed jangled nerves. Always a perfect way to end the day.
We bid a sorrowful farewell to loved ones and the Pacific Ocean which still runs through my veins. But embraced a slower pace venturing inland to high-desert mountains at Silverwood Lake. Two couples joined our camping expedition for peaceful paddling, sweaty hikes along a portion of the Pacific Crest Trail, crackling campfires, and spectacular sunsets. A special evening hosted by our newbie-bachelor friend at his elegant home astonished us with a complete home-cooked meal served on his patio beneath a canopy of stars.
Long-time sailing friends followed our route along Highway 395 from Silverwood to Bishop, through the Sierras north to Lassen Volcanic National Park, and then east to Virginia City, Nevada. This spontaneous, adventurous couple kept us laughing as we loaded up on fresh goodies at Schat’s Bakery; tramped the Pond Trail in Rock Creek Canyon; and wound our way along Lassen’s scenic byway, Hwy 89, from Manzanita Lake to the Kohm Yah-mah-nee visitor’s center.
We romped near boiling mud-pots, steamy fumaroles, and among volcanic boulders from the 1914-15 eruptions that were dispersed within this diverse prehistoric vicinity.
One memorable moment was Steve going for an unexpected swim in Cold Boiling Lake, thankfully a dying hydro-thermal lake, now tepid and bubbly. That evening while we roasted marshmallows, he toasted his sneakers!
After 2-1/2 weeks we regretfully parted company in old west era Virginia City. Another step back in time, this once booming gold and silver mining town boasts of 23 saloons, 7 cemeteries, museums, mercantiles, historic sites, and entertaining shoot outs as you stroll authentic boardwalks.
Jerry and I still had several stops ahead amid gorgeous and intriguing environments which we anticipated eagerly. But life and its adventures are always best shared with family and friends. We would miss old and new stories spoken around campfires; genuine camaraderie and bonds strengthened through joint challenges and mutual appreciation of God’s masterful creation. We are overflowing with gratitude for the gift of this time of renewal and growth within our precious relationships, looking forward to creating new memories as we devise our next journey.
The beauty of places is insignificant next to the splendor discovered within the hearts of those we love and that love us.
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