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We christened it the WHOW. The White House on Wheels is to be our home and transport for the next 2 months of sauntering around the Younited States and Canada.The orientation into the workings of the WHOW occupied around an hour and a half of convoluted instructions following which our inductor asked:
"Did you understand all of that"?
In fact I had basically tuned out after the part where she said, "Now listen carefully".
One element that did strike a chord was on the topic of refuelling and how it would likely bankrupt us. Any guesses at the cost of a tank of petrol in the WHOW? The answer depends on whether you factor in the medical expenses of the heart attack that transpires as the bowser threatens the $200 level. Combine that with the inflated cost of a hookup at an RV park and the credit card began hyperventilating.
RV duty allocation was always going to be a dicey point of contention but I'd seen enough scenes from films to quickly throw my hand up for all the driving. This allowed me the luxury of:
"Penny, your sole mandate is - EMPTY THE SHITTER"!
The Big Sur
Random pullover.That went over like an armless pole vaulter but we were up up and away into the red, white and blue yonder.
We turned left at Albuquerque and before you knew it, Pismo Beach at last, clam capital of the world. If that's on the abstract side, google Bugs Bunny and Pismo Beach.
There was a touch of irony in making Pismo Beach our first port of call. Irony normally sucks but not this time. Here we were fully laden with a home on wheels and it was parked on the street whilst we snuggled up for 2 nights in a lovely house a half block from the beach. It can be darn handy having close friends on the opposite side of the world.
Brad and Wendy also provided a wealth of logistical support for the 8 weeks ahead and PB ended up not only being a cool spot to hang on its own merits but also the ideal locale to ween ourselves onto USA, AOK. Can't wait for the Krellers to head back down under for a return dose of welcoming hospitality.
May I also add that the Splash Cafe, a Pismo Beach institution, serves
up a clam chowder which lends some creedence to Bugs Bunny's claim.
Pismo was just one of a number of whistle stops along California's central coast enroute to the Golden Gate. Not normally averse to this driving gig, Highway 1 led to a 360 degree change of attitude, The Big Sur a particularly fetching stretch of tar.
Whilst this length of coast supports a range of juicy towns, one really touched a nerve.
According to some of my readings, Carmel was at one time a quirky, bohemian enclave. Then Clint Eastwood rode back into town, saddle bags fully laden with civil ambition. With Mayor Eastwood pulling the reins and an influx of sturdy greenbacks, bohemia never stood a chance.The result these days is one sweet hamlet. Litter is an extinct species, civic pride is bubbling over and style has been transplanted direct from Europe's finest. Nestled on the coast, Carmel's hip cafes and retail outlets compete with boutique art galleries for the prime streetside real estate. If I'd had a spare $5000 or so plus a penchant for purchasing artworks, I would have snapped up a Clifford Bailey or two. Seeing as I don't fit into either
Hearst Castle
Cupid eying off the castle category, we left artless but impressed with Clifford's work all the same.
One minor complaint on Carmel. Those atmospheric, tree canopied streets don't exactly complement the 12 foot roof of the WHOW.
San Francisco is at this point my favourite US city. It also provided a dose of reality for the 8 weeks ahead. The RV concept was not formulated around city exploration. Finding somewhere to bunker down for a couple of nights was as challenging as getting your head around a David Lynch film. We should have also invested more effort into researching transport options in the city proper. A disproportionate period of time was spent jumping from one form to another and going nowhere. A cable car and a trolley car may look similar on paper but the routes, speeds and price tags sing a different tune. We thus ended up a tad short on the landing in covering everything on our San Fran bucket list. Fortunately we'd given San Francisco a reasonable crack 13 years ago so this was only a brief refresher course.
One attraction we didn't delve into last time but managed to tick off circa 2012 is Alcatraz. We initially balked
Hearst Castle
William Randolph knew how to liveitup. at the price tag but by visit's end it was worth every penny.
The drive from Los Angeles to San Francisco was a week heavy on Griswald metaphors with a range of teething issues in the "trailer trash" morphing process. Not as many moments though as can be slotted into the "Only in America" pigeonhole.
I loved the busker down by the beach in Santa Cruz. He had a full drum kit set up in the back of his van and was whaling away. It sounded pretty horrible but boy he was digging in.
But the winner of "Only in America" this week goes to:
San Francisco is touted as the gay capital of the world and The Castro is the epicentre of the city's gay population. The area is bursting at the sequins with guys batting for the other team - not that there's anything wrong with that. We innocently hopped off the trolley car at The Castro terminus, an intersection that bustles and hustles, particularly during this sunny lunch time interlude. Were our eyes deceiving us? A double take, perhaps even a triple. A group of aforementioned lads were lounging around dressed head to
toe in - NOTHING! Oiled up and soaking the rays, it was quintessential exhibitionism. For a nation that went into Deathcom 5 over the sight of Janet Jackson's nipple, the public tolerance of The Castro Boys in Birthday Suits is quizzical. A couple of these fellows really didn't have a great deal to "show off" either. One in particular was carrying a spare 50lbs or so plus the one eyed acorn barely poking its head out of the forest lent a whole new terms of reference to the frightened turtle syndrome. Call me a prude if you wish, but, PUT SOME BLOODY CLOTHES ON!
Yeatesy
Week one on the road and I am so busy cooking, cleaning and emptying the "shitter" I don't have time to update the blog!!! Well that's not all true. Our WHOW is actually very comfortable, but remember we have already been travelling for 3 months and living out of a backpack, so our new home is actually quite spacious in comparison. We have managed to unpack our clothes and few possessions into semi permanent cupboards and now we wear partially crinkled clothes as opposed to totally crinkled clothes. We can shower (yes shower)
and of course we have a toilet on board, which so far has not required any major overhauls or cleaning.
Our days are spent sight seeing and in some cases looking for parking spots big enough to park our 19 foot home. It's actually nice to be able to have some home cooked meals for a while and not have to walk the streets looking for somewhere to eat that is "just right" . However I do like to seek out the odd coffee shop in the hope I might strike it lucky in the USA of finding a decent coffee.
So far Santa Cruz passed with flying colours. And while I am on the subject of coffee stops, I need to add to Gary's blog with regard to our visit to the Castro in San Francisco. The Castro area is well know for its gay population, and I thought it may be a place to get a decent brew along with a bite of lunch. When we hopped off the tram there was a coffee shop right at the intersection with chairs and tables on the street. It did look quite "chic". Without really looking at the
Santa Cruz
All the fun of the fair patrons, Gary suggested to me this might be the place to settle the tummies.
I couldn't believe that he was suggesting this cafe, as I was looking directly at this large man standing nude applying suntan lotion to himself and as I looked around most of the patrons were wearing the same. I should have agreed and sat down and waited to see Gary's reaction.
Anyway, on the journey away from the Castro I was to learn that San Fran has recently brought in a new law requiring them to sit on a towel on the chair. A few must have left their towels at home as they just stood! So onwards with our sightseeing.
Penny.
More images at:
www.colvinyeates.zenfolio.com
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Rhys Williams
non-member comment
Empty the shitter Yeatsey!
Thanks heaps for the updates guys, I'd love to have seen your faces when you hopped off at the cafe. I'm missing your hard hitting at the gym Gary, (actually I'm snowed under with schoolwork so I haven't been in two weeks).