So, after a minor re-configuring of my beloved Civic Motorhome, (removal of passenger seat) I head said Honda south on the I-5. I chose the Washington SR58, the Willamet Highway, as my route of choice across the Cascades. This, as I play the role of the proverbial Rainbird. Dropping down into Nevada, on old US 395, it is honestly hauntingly beautiful to witness the lack of population and experience the awesomeness of the eastern Washington and Oregon hinterlands. Through California, thence into Nevada, I stopped to catch up with an old friend in Dayton, east of Virginia City; and stayed at Uncle Filthy’s place for a couple o’days. Filth’s Grandpa Al Walter, used to fuel Lady B, Mom’s ’35 Buick. You know, the one with the suicide doors that violently expelled me onto the Chapman grade above El Modena, when I was about 4.
At this writing I am already in Mammoth, getting set to head down to Bishop, Mojave and eventually Bakersfield, before hitting the coast at Paso Robles, California.