Moving Day…and the Day After

Or how I lost a day of my life.

On Friday, I moved my helicopter and RV from Quincy, WA to Wenatchee Heights, where I’ll be based for the next three weeks.

Step 1: Move the Helicopter

The move started early. I drove over to the ag strip where my helicopter was parked at 7 AM. I untied the blades, did my preflight, and cleaned the windows, which were coated with dust. By 7:20 AM, the engine was running and the blades were spinning. On my GPS, I dialed in the waypoint for the previous year’s landing zone (LZ). The goal was to take the shortest route to the LZ. Not only was I trying to save money — every minute in flight literally costs me a few dollars — but I was supposed to meet my client at 8 AM and I didn’t want to be late.

I launched by 7:25 and headed out. The guys at the ag strip were flying and I had to assume that their competition on the other side of town were also flying. So I climbed to about 600 feet AGL, hoping to stay out of their way. I adjusted my course to head directly to my old LZ. The GPS told me it would take 18 minutes.

I overflew the Columbia River south of where route 28 winds down from the Quincy Basin toward Crescent Bar. The river, more than 1200 feet below me, looked inviting — I love to fly low-level over its surface. But I could clearly see the action of the wind on the water. It would be a bumpy ride. And it would definitely not be the quickest, most direct route. So I ignored it and continued along my route.

My RouteIt was the first time I’d flown over some of that terrain, but it wasn’t very interesting. I did notice some abandoned wheat fields in an unlikely place. And I got a great view down to Wenatchee when I crossed the ridge separating Malaga from the hills to the south. My LZ was on the side of a hill just beyond the next ridge, so I approached from the east and turned west after I’d crossed the ridge and had it in view.

Helicopter ParkingI wasn’t planning on landing in last year’s LZ, though. I was going to land on a construction site where I planned to park my RV. I came in for my approach and zeroed in on the patch of dirt I thought was level. A huge cloud of dust erupted and, for a moment, I thought I’d have white-out conditions. But the cloud drifted away as I touched down. Unfortunately, the LZ wasn’t as level as I thought and I just didn’t like it. So I lifted up, sending even more dust into the air, and flew to a known level spot close to last year’s LZ. I set down in the grass among weeds and flowers right beside a pond ringed with cattails and only a few yards from some of the cherry trees I was hired to protect. As I cooled the engine, I watched the dust cloud I’d created moments before drift off to the southwest.

Zimmerman PondI locked up and made a short hike through the orchard, up to the packing shed where I’d be meeting my client. It was a pleasant morning with clear blue skies and not the least indication of rain anytime in the near future. At the top of the hill, I looked back down at the pond and the mountains beyond it. My helicopter looked like a red speck on the grass. The cherry trees seemed to embrace it while rocky hillsides studded with other orchards looked on.

Step 2: Get Back to Quincy

I met my client near his packing shed after taking another quick look at my planned RV parking spot. It was 8:10 AM when we headed back to Quincy.

My client and I had a nice chat along the 40-mile drive to Quincy. I learned a lot about the cherry business — there’s so much to it! I gave him a copy of my Cherries: from Tree to Truck DVD; I hope he gets a chance to see it.

He dropped me off at my truck at the ag strip. Before I left him, we talked about the other helicopter parked there. The pilot, who was on cherry contracts just like I was, had parked it there two weeks ago, before heading back to Seattle. Although he was on call, he didn’t take his status as seriously as I did. If it rained, I doubted that he’d make it back in time to fly. But since rain didn’t seem like a possibility, no one would know. It irked me and shocked my client.

Step 3: Move the RV

The RV was mostly packed up and ready to go. But since I didn’t think I was going to have water where I was going, I spent a little extra time and washed out Alex the Bird’s cage. It was hot, sweaty work and I did it in gym shorts and a tank top, not really caring who saw me. I let it dry in the sun while I vacuumed the trailer one more time. Then I dumped the tanks and put away the power cord and hoses, wiping mud off the cord and water hose before neatly coiling them up and putting them away. It was important to keep everything neat and clean.

Inside the RV, I strapped down the movables — my La-Z-Boy chair, Alex’s cage, and the big television on its swing arm. Alex was already in his travel box, waiting on the grass in the shade of my neighbor’s RV. Then I pushed the button that brought in the slides, the button that brought up the stablizer legs, and the button that sent down the landing gear to raise the front end. All of these buttons are in a remote control, so I could walk around the RV while I did all this, doing the work of two people.

I dropped the truck tailgate and backed it up to the RV’s gooseneck hitch. Even though it’s a fifth wheel trailer, we put a conversion kit on it so it would mate with our existing gooseneck ball. It took me about six tries to get the hitch centered over the ball. Then another button push brought the hitch down onto the ball. The landing gear rose as the truck’s back end descended with the weight of the trailer. Soon, the feet were off the ground and the legs were fully retracted. I lifted them the final 10 inches and used the pins to hold them in place. I connected the chains, the pin, the brake cable, and the power cable. I brought up the tailgate. I was almost done.

On the Road AgainI had to drive forward about four inches to free one of the wheel chocks. I collected them and put them away, then locked up all the hatches and did a final walk-around. I was ready to go.

The drive to Wenatchee Heights was uneventful. I drove slowly; there was no reason to rush. The last few miles were the toughest — a winding rode that climbed the hillside to the orchard. When the pavement turned to gravel, I pushed the 4WD button to give me extra traction. I finally reached the driveway for the building site where I’d be parking and stopped the truck.

I use small construction style cones to help me back up. I place them on the boundaries of where I want to park. I can easily see them and refer to them in the rearview mirrors. I fetched them from one of the RV’s storage cabinets and put them out. Then I started backing down the gravel drive. The first time I touched the brakes, the whole rig slid 6 to 12 inches before coming to a stop. Clearly, this would be tricky. I repeated the backup, stop, backup, stop process, inching down the hill. Finally, my truck’s wheels left the gravel and hit the dirt of the construction site. Suddenly, I had traction.

Back Window ViewI got out to reposition the cones and continued the process. Eventually, I had the RV positioned just about where I wanted it, with its big back window facing out over the valley (see cell phone photo for view) only a few feet from the edge of a cliff.

One more thing: leveling. I checked the level just inside the RV’s door. I’d need to raise the driver’s side. I pulled out the Lego-like leveling blocks and stacked them 3 high in a stair-step configuration. I backed up another 12 inches, feeling the RV rise onto the blocks. I stopped and got out to take a look. I was very surprised to find both left side wheels centered perfect atop their blocks.

Parking SpotFrom that point, setting up was a matter of disconnecting the truck and pushing a bunch of buttons on the remote control. Within 20 minutes, the RV was fully set up, with Alex back in his cage.

It was about noon.

Where I Went Wrong: Lunch

I decided to reward myself with lunch out. All day long, I’d been craving fried chicken but for some reason, I decided to visit the Thai restaurant I’d been to on previous summers. They made a good Pad Thai and a great black rice pudding. I figured I’d eat half the Pad Thai and bring the rest home. I’d also hit the supermarket to pick up a few things.

For some reason, the TV in the Thai place was tuned into the Discovery Channel, which was playing a show about army ants. Those are the ants that can swarm and kill people. No people were killed during my meal, but various poultry and large insects were. Not having my iPad along, I had nothing else to look at. Whether that was a contributing factor to the next 36 hours is unknown.

I put aside half the Pad Thai and ordered the black rice pudding. I was about halfway finished with it when I began feeling unusually stuffed. Unusual because I know I can eat a lot more food than I had. I put the pudding aside, too, and got boxes for both of them. They were too tasty to leave behind.

I went to Safeway and did some food shopping — mostly salad stuff. I felt bloated the whole time.

I drove the 8 miles back up to my campsite and put away the groceries. I still felt stuffed.

I talked to my husband, Mike. I mentioned how stuffed I felt. I was spending a lot of time in my comfy chair, mostly because I felt kind of sick.

By 5:30, I had my Sea Bands on. They’re elasticized bracelets that fight nausea and they usually work pretty well for me.

By 6 PM, I was vomiting. I hate to vomit. I can’t understand how people can be bulimic; vomiting is the most disgusting thing a person can do.

As you might expect, I felt a lot better when I was done. That’s the thing I hate most about vomiting. No matter how much I hate doing it, I know I’ll feel much better when I’m done.

After rinsing my mouth out with water and using damp washcloth on my face, I settled back into my comfy chair to read.

Must have been something I ate, I said to myself. Better not eat those leftovers.

The Misery Continues

I went to bed around 9 PM after watching some TV. Even though I was off the grid, the TV in the bedroom is DC and the antenna was able to get a very good picture on 6 channels. I watched something called MI-5 on PBS. I liked it.

I fell asleep around 10. By 11:30, I was awake again, feeling sick. Soon I was hugging the toilet again.

I didn’t think it was possible to vomit something I’d eaten nearly 12 hours before, but apparently it was.

I slept like crap.

The Day I Lost

When I woke up, it was fully light out — sometime after 6 AM, I think. I ached all over — every single muscle in my body. It took me 30 minutes to summon the strength to get out of bed. I went to the bathroom, did my business, and went right back to bed for another 30 minutes.

Alex, still covered, started to make noises. I dragged myself out of bed again to uncover him. Then I sat down on the sofa near his cage for another 20 minutes. I thought about coffee, which I’d have to perk or drip; without electricity, my coffee maker was useless. So was the microwave. At least Alex’s breakfast was ready — I’d made him scrambled eggs for the next few days before leaving Quincy. I cut some up for him and put them in his dish. Then, since my stomach was still feeling iffy, I decided to brew some Hopi tea instead of coffee.

I downed two ibuprofen to deaden the pain in my muscles. It worked.

I spent the entire morning dozing fitfully in my comfy chair, eventually drinking the entire 18-ounce cup of tea.

I had a problem. The temperature was expected to reach the high 90s that day and get even hotter the next two days. The trailer, parked in the sun, would likely get at least 10°F hotter. I had a 2000-watt Honda generator in one of the RV’s cabinets. I wasn’t sure whether it would run the air conditioning. But one thing I was sure of: there was no way I would be able to lift it out of the cabinet by myself. I was just too weak.

There was a possible solution, though. I was on a construction site for a vacation home. Construction had ceased, but not before electricity had been run to the site. The day before, I’d had enough foresight to see if the power was turned on — I’d plugged in a portable fan and it had run. What I needed to do before I could think further about the generator was to contact the property owner and see if he’d let me tap into his power supply. (He already knew I was parking there.)

That meant doing the following:

  1. Taking a shower. I needed one. I stunk.
  2. Dressing. For obvious reasons.
  3. Walking to the site next to mine, a distance of about 1/4 mile round trip, to talk to the guy next door, who was working on his home’s construction.
  4. Getting the name and phone number of the owner of my site.
  5. Calling the owner of my site and getting his permission.
  6. Running one or more power cords the 100+ feet from the power box to my RV’s power port.
  7. Seeing if the air conditioner would run on a 110v connection over 14 gauge wire.

It took me nearly two hours to do all this. I lucked out at every step of the way. My neighbor was still there, he had the phone number, the owner answered the phone, the owner said yes, I only needed one power cord to cover the distance, the air conditioning worked.

Exhausted, I went inside and settled back into my comfy chair. I dozed on and off for a few hours. Then I stretched out on the sofa and dozed on and off for another few hours. Then I moved into the bedroom and stretched out on the bed where I dozed on and off for another few hours.

Somewhere in there, I made myself some cereal with bananas and ate it. I wasn’t hungry, but I felt empty and I didn’t think that was a good thing.

I also spoke to my husband and a fellow cherry drying friend. My friend, in fact, offered to help with the generator if I needed to. It would mean a 3-hour round-trip drive for him. I’m glad he didn’t have to do it.

Alex was very well-behaved. I think he sensed that I was sick.

At 7 PM, I forced myself to stay awake. I was worried that I’d sleep fitfully throughout the night if I slept too much during the day. That’s about when the headache started. I took three Extra Strength Tylenol and tried to read.

I had three crackers with cashew butter on them for dinner.

At 9 PM, I was back in bed. I tried to watch TV, but the picture kept digitizing, which was weird. (Could the A/C connection screw up the RV’s circuitry enough to mess up a TV reception?) I was asleep before 10 PM.

I’m Back

Despite going to bed with a splitting headache, I slept like a log. I woke up feeling 95% myself. What a difference a day makes!

My ViewAlthough I pushed myself a bit too hard with a short hike in the orchard this morning — and was rewarded with a period of lightheadedness — I was able to do things today. I shot some photos around the orchard. I set up the BBQ grill and the outdoor mat. I took out my folding chair and set it up facing my wonderful view (see cell phone photo). I had a real breakfast (cereal with yogurt and banana) and real lunch (grilled chicken satay). I put a bunch of photos online and I wrote two blog posts. I even caught up on my Twitter and email accounts and moderated blog comments.

Yesterday was a lost day. I’m glad it’s the first one in a long time.

Internet Frustration with a Crappy ISP

Sometimes it’s better to have no Internet service than bad internet service.

For the past two months, I’ve been living in my RV at a golf course campground in Quincy, WA. This is my third June/July here.

Some Background

Wireless AntennaThe first year, I tried to get Internet service here using what I was told was the only local provider. The provider uses wireless Internet. It picks up a signal from a nearby tower using an antenna it placed on the golf course’s pro shop roof. The signal goes down to a router and broadcasts Internet service via WiFi to those within range.

That first year, it worked okay for the short time it was available. But the groundskeeper was convinced that its wireless signal was messing with the irrigation system’s wireless signal and had it taken down after two weeks.

The second year, the service was up and running again. My camper was parked in the second space from the pro shop (again) and I was able to connect. I paid the $40 monthly fee and had relatively decent service, although speed was often an issue, especially in the evening.

This year, I’m parked in space #5 which is long enough for my new rig. I soon discovered that although the golf course was using the same provider, that provider had changed the way it did business. Rather than one router for the pro shop and campers, they had three routers installed: one for the pro shop, one as a “hotspot” for the restaurant, and one for the campers.

The Trouble Begins

The trouble began when I first attempted to connect to the RV-dedicated router. The system they used required my MAC address. I’m using three devices — my iMac, my MacBook Pro, and my iPad. So we had to set all that up over the phone. He got the MAC address wrong for one of them, causing all kinds of problems.

By the next day, I realized that I couldn’t hold a signal with the router. My Mac was reporting 3 bars when connected, but half the time, it couldn’t even see the router. Turns out, these idiots had installed a router for a campground that didn’t have enough range to cover the whole campground. I guess if you want Internet service, you need to park next to the pro shop building.

So they switched me to the password-protected hotspot router, warning me that they’d change the password once a month. Whatever. It seemed to work so I was okay.

Seemed is the appropriate modifier here. In reality, it only worked about 80% of the time. Sometimes, the router would disappear. Other times, it would be there, but would not send an IP address. Other times, it was there and sent my devices IP addresses, but those addresses couldn’t connect to the Internet. Outages like this would be frequent on some days, lasting anywhere from 2 minutes to 2 hours. One night the Internet went offline around 7 PM and didn’t come back until 10 AM the next day. The golf course pro shop was having the same problems.

The amount of frustration this caused me cannot be measured. I’d be working on an e-mail message or blog post and not be able to send it. I’d be uploading movie files to a publisher who had me on a deadline and the upload would fail. I’d try to download updates for my computer and they’d stall and eventually fail. I’d have a client calling, asking what I saw on weather radar and I couldn’t get online to look.

And then it would just work again.

Even when it did work, the speed of the connection was sometimes agonizingly slow. I mean so slow that it caused physical pain — from pulling my hair out — to use a Web browser. I couldn’t even watch YouTube videos. Even tethering from my BlackBerry has enough bandwidth for YouTube.

Service sucked and I was paying $40/month for it.

I started seriously considering a MiFi.

The D & J Show

Then there was the surprise password change.

The company is run by two guys. One guy, D, is the money guy and knows next to nothing about technical matters. He’s the guy that answers the phone when you call for help. The other guy, J, is the tech guy and I think he probably does know what he’s doing — at least well enough to get by. When you need help, you’re directed to call his cell phone, which he never answers. He also doesn’t respond to text messages or return calls.

D decided, one day, that too many people had the password for Hotspot and it was time for a change. So he changed it to the word golf. Unfortunately, 4-character passwords were not appropriate for the type of network security they were using. So, as a result, it wouldn’t work for anyone, even if they had the password.

J, upon hearing about the problem, changed it back to the old password. That fixed things — or at least brought them back to their semi-functional service level — for a while.

Sputnik

Last week, I flew up to Chelan to spend a day with a friend. I got back around 7:30 PM, and like any other computer-dependent geek, went to check my e-mail.

Sputnik?

The typos on this login screen should give you an idea of the level of professionalism I’m dealing with here.

I couldn’t connect. The router had disappeared. Instead, there was a different router name that included the word hotspot and was not password protected. I told my computer to connect. Still no joy. I launched my Web browser. And the sign-on screen shown here is what I saw.

I was paid up for another three weeks, but I had never been given login information. All I had was a password. I tried all different combinations of my name with the password to connect. No joy.

I got pissed off. I called the number on the screen and got an answering machine telling me that D was on the phone. Not likely. He was more likely gone for the day. J didn’t answer his phone. I started leaving messages, and they were not friendly. I was pissed off.

In the morning, nothing had changed. No one returned my calls — as if I had reason to expect that they might. I started calling again and still not getting through. I had to connect via BlackBerry Bluetooth tethering just to check the weather and my e-mail.

At 10 AM, when I called J again, he answered the phone. (I heard that hell froze over that day, too.)

“We upgraded the service yesterday and put in a new router,” he told me, as if I had no reason to be angry. “It should work a lot better now.”

He was full of crap but I believed him for about 10 minutes. That’s how long it took to set up an account for me and get me connected. He’d already hung up when I realized I had the same crappy service I’d had for the past month and a half.

And now I had the extra bonus of having to log in several times a day.

The login process is especially frustrating on my iPad, which won’t remember my user ID or password and must be prompted to connect by trying to access a simple Web page (I use Google.com) rather than refreshing whatever was last viewed.

Sputnik. That’s a good name for this service. It’s 1950s technology.

I’m outta here in less than a week, so the frustration will end.

And the folks at the golf course have already told me that they’re thinking of switching to another service.

All I know is that I’m not giving another dime to these clowns again.

Update: 10 minutes after posting

It Never EndsYou want irony? Here’s the message I got in my Web browser only 10 minutes after posting this whine. These guys don’t even know how to configure the obsolete software they use.

Just Because It’s Free Doesn’t Mean You Should Waste It

I’ve become the power police.

My Neighbor's TrailerThis photo shows the trailer parked in the spot next to mine. It’s been here longer than me and I suspect it isn’t going anywhere soon.

For a while, a family of four and dog lived in it. They kept weird hours. They’d come home between 9 PM and 11 PM, make a bunch of noise, and then go inside and (I assume) sleep. Occasionally, before turning in, one of them would do something in the car with the key in the ignition and the door open so it would beep-beep-beep for 20 minutes at a time. In the morning, around 10 AM to 11 AM, the door would open and they’d begin spilling out in their pajamas. After screwing around at the trailer for a while, they’d leave. The whole process would start again that night.

About a month ago, they started leaving the “porch” light on. This makes sense when you know you’re going to get in late, but what bugged me is that they never turned it off. And while this isn’t a huge deal if they’re parked all by themselves, their porch light is about 10 feet from one of my bedroom windows. It’s so bright outside at night that I actually woke up in the middle of the night last week and thought it was morning.

It was morning. One o’clock in the morning.

I considered asking them to turn if off at night when they got in, but I was too embarrassed. They were a family of four in a 20-year-old 22-foot travel trailer with a dog. I was a family of one in a brand new 36-foot fifth wheel trailer with a parrot. I had no right to whine.

About two weeks ago, they started leaving the air conditioning on all day long, even when they — and their little dog — were out. They also left the two top vents and one of the windows open. Air conditioning on, windows closed isn’t bad. Air conditioning off, windows open is good. But air conditioning on, windows open is wasteful — especially when no one is home.

The campground we’re in is dirt cheap: $200 per month for a full hookup! There’s no electric meter, so you can suck as much power as you want. But that doesn’t mean you should suck power when you don’t need to. Or blatantly waste it.

About a week ago, they stopped coming home. I don’t know where the hell they are. For all I know, they’ve been deported.

So now there’s a vacant trailer next door with its porch light on, shining into my bedroom window, and the air conditioning blowing cold air out the open vents and windows. 24/7.

It gets cool here at night — in the 60s most nights. The kind of night you want to leave your windows open to feel the fresh breeze and hear the wind in the trees.

Of course, with windows and blinds open, I get to hear the air conditioning from next door and have that damn light shining on me.

I mentioned the light to some folks I had dinner with last night. They all told me to pull the bulb out.

But last night, I did something better. I snuck around to their electrical box and turned off their circuit breaker. Instant silence, instant dark.

I slept very well last night.

They didn’t come home. Although I was tempted to leave everything turned off, I know they have an electric refrigerator — the kind you buy for a dorm room; I saw them bring it in the day I moved in — and I was worried that the food inside it (if there was any) would spoil. So before taking my walk this morning, I flicked everything back on.

Tonight, I’ll flick it off again.

I figure that if they show up, they’ll just assume the circuit breaker popped. Maybe they’ll even get the idea that they shouldn’t leave the air conditioning on when they’re not around.

Geocaching Revisited

Hunting for hidden treasures.

Back in 2005, I discovered geocaching, an outdoor activity where people use a GPS to find hidden containers of trinkets. I wrote about my thoughts on the topic — and some big plans that never came to fruition — in some detail here. Because part of the game is to pull something out of a cache and replace it with something else, I started gathering items to share. Among these were some “travel bugs,” which are basically serial numbered tags you can affix to an item so it can be tracked. The tracking is mostly done on the Geocaching.com Web site. That’s also were you can find a list of geocaches just about anywhere in the U.S.

And that’s the interesting thing: these things are everywhere. Did you drive more than 10 miles to work today? I bet you passed at least a dozen of them within 3 miles of your car. There’s one a block from my house in Wickenburg and one 4/10 of a mile from my RV here in Quincy. As this map shows, they’re all over the place:

Geocaches Near Me
My RV is just about dead-center in this map. The little box and question mark icons indicate geocaches in the area. The smiley face icon is a geocache I found that I logged.

For some reason, I find the proliferation of these little boxes of hidden “treasure” fascinating. It emphasizes how big the world really is. It also reminds me a bit of a walk my husband, Mike, and I had along the rim of the Grand Canyon once. We got off the beaten path and walked right along the rim, far from where the tourists wander. We happened to stop for a rest on a rock outcropping. And there, tucked under an overhang with a beautiful view of the canyon, was an urn of cremated remains. How long had it been hidden there? We didn’t know. It was like an uncharted geocache. Seems like a good final resting place to me.

Geocaches are hidden. They’re tucked away in painted coffee cans, sealed lengths of black PVC pipe, and plastic Tylenol bottles. In the old days, ammo cans were popular, but I think the value of these has prevented their widespread use — too likely to be stolen if found. (I bought 3 nice-sized ammo cans from a seller in Beatty, NV some years back to create my own geocaches; I still have them.) Caches are hidden in bushes, under rocks, and among the remains of pioneer trash heaps. You’re not likely to stumble upon any of them by accident. You have to look for them. And even with GPS coordinates, they’re not always easy to find.

For some reason, I brought my bag of geocache goodies along with me on my trip to Washington this year. I guess I thought I’d try it again. I didn’t think much of it until the other day when a Twitter friend, @PlagiarismToday, started tweeting about his weekend geocaching activities. It got me thinking about it. I pulled out my bag and took a look inside it. I had a GPS with me, and an Internet connection to get information about local caches, so I had everything I needed to try again.

So I went out yesterday to search for three caches. I found three, but not the original three I’d set out to find.

  • Ryann’s Hide was the first cache I’d hunted for in over 5 years. Although I’m using a newer GPS (a Garmin GPSMap 60c) than I did in 2005, I soon realized that precision was something that needed patience. As I walked, the GPS would guide me, but I quickly overshot the location. Seems that the GPS could not keep up with my movement. I needed to slow down and let the signals catch up. Zooming in on the map gave me ever-increasing detail. Standing still, gave me ever-increasing precision. Once I caught on, I was able to zero in on the location. The cache was alongside a two-track road that led down a hill to a fishing spot. The road was closed to unauthorized vehicles. It started on the edge of an orchard and curved down into a very pleasant wooded area. (I think I need to explore further down that trail.) The container was a painted coffee can with a plastic lid. I pulled out a plastic car and replaced it with a tiny stuffed teddy bear. I entered my Geocaching.com user name in the log book, closed everything back up, and replaced it exactly where I’d found it. Success!
  • Quincy Valley Rest Area II was a bit easier to find — once I got on the correct side of the rest area fence. It was a nicely made cache container consisting of a short length of black PVC pipe with a screw-top on one end. Inside was a baggie with the logbook, some plastic dinosaurs, and a very nice shell. I took the shell and replaced it with an emery board with advertising for a nudist colony on it. (I really don’t remember where I got such a thing, but it is pretty funny — and clean.) I logged my visit and closed it all back up. Success!
  • West Bar Overlook is the one I really wanted to find. It’s located on Babcock Bench, high above one of the orchards I dried several times this summer. The entry on Geocaching.com provided lots of photos and information about the geologic significance of the spot. I’d brought along my camera, planning to get some shots from its perfect vantage point. Unfortunately, the two-track access road that appeared to link the cache area with pavement was inaccessible. Not only was there a locked gate across the road, but there were lots of tall weeds making the start of the trail a bit questionable for someone wearing shorts during snake and tick season. I’ll either try again next spring, before the weeds grow so tall or possibly try to visit via helicopter. I already scouted the power lines in the area. So this was a failure.
  • Rust Everywhere was my consolation prize. I’d already imported its GPS coordinates into my GPS, so I knew approximately where it was. But because I hadn’t planned to look for it, I didn’t have the details — like a basic description of what it looked like. Having a location but no description makes things a bit tougher. Patience and perseverance paid off, though. The cache was a label-less Tylenol bottle hidden well among rocks. I pulled out a kid’s hair clip and replaced it with a computer chip, logged my visit, and put it back. Success!

In all, it was a nice way to spend the afternoon. I was at it for about two hours and it got me out and about. To onlookers, I must have looked pretty silly, walking around while studying a GPS. But I got to find a neat place — that wooded trail — and get some exercise and fresh air. I hope to do more tomorrow.

I also think that it would be a great family or small group activity. A way to combine socialization with exercise. Working together to complete a challenging task.

I do have a geocaching project lined up. I’m going to release one of my travel bugs into the wild with the mission of traveling down to New Orleans, LA. That’s where @PlagiarismToday lives and does his geocaching. He, in turn, is going to send one my way. We’ll see which one completes its mission first.

I’ll likely blog about the progress here.

Walking

My new morning routine.

Canal
A shot looking west up the canal from the first bridge.

Second Bridge
The second bridge is exactly 1.3 miles from my RV.

Apple Orchard
I walk for about a half mile alongside this apple orchard. This morning, I saw three woodchucks in rocks like these along the canal edge.

Last week, I began walking regularly. It’s part — the only part, I should admit — of an exercise regime. I know it’s not much, but it’s more than I was doing the week before.

I usually get out between 6:30 and 7:00 AM, when it’s still nice and cool. I’m back within 45 minutes.

I should be clear here: I don’t go for a short stroll. I walk 2.6 miles at an average speed of 3.6 miles per hour. How do I know this so precisely? Simple: I monitor my progress using the trip computer on my handheld GPS.

(While other people are relying on a touch-screen GPS with computerized voice to find their way around town, I use my GPSes for things I can’t easily do on my own. But let’s not go there, huh? That’s fodder for a whole other blog post.)

I took the photos you see here on this morning’s walk. The pauses brought my average speed down to 3.3 miles per hour.

I start at my RV at Colockum Ridge Golf Course. I cut through the golf cart staging area and past the maintenance shed. That puts me on a two-track gravel road between a narrow drainage ditch full of clear-running water and the golf course. I walk about .3 miles south, then make a right onto another gravel road that runs along the north side of a canal. If I’m lazy, I cross the canal at the first bridge and come back along the other side for a 1.2 mile walk. But if I’m serious about exercise, I continue to the second bridge. The whole time, I’m walking alongside the golf course and then the 55+ trailer community beyond it. When I cross the second bridge, I walk back along the south side of the canal with an apple orchard and then an alfalfa field on my right. I cross back over the first bridge and retrace my route back to my RV.

Here’s what it looks like in satellite view on Google Maps:
My Walk

Alfalfa Bales
These aren’t the little wimpy alfalfa bales we bought for our horses. These probably weigh 500 pounds each and stand nearly as tall as me.

Canal and Golf Course
A view of the golf course from the opposite side of the canal.

I really enjoy the scenery. I love the changes in the farmland. Yesterday, the alfalfa was cut and piled. Today it was baled. The apples are ripening. Some farm equipment off in the distance was harvesting soybeans or something. The groundhogs are kind of cute.

3.6 miles per hour is a good walking pace. It’s probably the pace I used regularly when I walked the streets of New York. If you don’t walk fast in Manhattan, you get run over by other pedestrians or messengers on bikes or guys pushing racks of clothing. (I spent a bunch of time in the garment district one summer.) I’d like to get my walking speed up to 4 miles per hour, but it would likely kill me.

I listen to music when I walk. I have a little iPad shuffle and keep it stocked with an ever-changing mix of my favorite music. I discovered the other day that my walking pace is at the same tempo as Paul Simon’s “Late in the Evening.” I have long legs so I have long strides. I feel it in my knees and hips.

When I get back to the trailer, I’m sweating like a pig. (Do pigs really sweat?) I force myself to drink water or vitamin water before jumping in the shower. When I’m that hot and sweaty, the shower feels like heaven and makes the walk worthwhile. Afterwards, I have breakfast: high fiber cereal with fresh berries and low-fat milk. I have coffee before the walk — I am human, after all.

According to the Walking Calories Calculator on About.com, I burn at least 259 calories each time I do my walk. That’s not very much, but it is better than nothing. I’m hoping the regular brisk walk will also help me recover some of my muscle tone, which is quickly melting away.

I’m middle-aged now, and I’m not going down without a fight.