The History of the Hot Air Balloon

The year was 1783. The land was Annonay, France. Two sons of a paper manufacturer, the most unlikely of scientists to make a lighter-than-air flight, did. Their names were Joseph and Jacques Montgolfier, and Joseph one day through a paper bag into their fireplace. It whizzed up the chimney with tremendous speed. The two brothers were delighted and amazed. So, trying again, they made a bigger paper bag and held it over a fire, where it got full of hot air. They released it and it soared to the heavens. The bigger the bag, the heavier stuff it could carry. And they stayed up higher and and longer. The father, seeing this very awesome thing, saw a money-making opportunity. He payed for a public demonstration in the square of the town on June 5th, only a few days from now. After loading it with hot air and cutting the ropes, the 35 feet diameter and 300 pound balloon rose to a thousand feet!

Success! The Montgolfier's then built a balloon out of linen cloth to be flown in Paris. It was blue and gold and shined like the bright minds of the kids who had made it. It was 54 feet in diameter and could hold 55,000 cubic feet! Woah! It could also carry 1,700 pounds. They built a basket that could carry some passengers, but Louis XVI didn't like this. He didn't like the idea of letting people go up in the sky. It was probably too risky, he thought. But he did suggest criminals under death sentence going up in the balloon. That's just sick.

A young noblemen with a name that I can't even pronounce, Pilatre de Rozier, said that Criminals shouldn't have that honor as the first in the sky. His friend and him, Marquis d'Arlandes, a military man, volunteered. On Nov. 21st 1783 Louis gave them his blessing. His wife, and Ben Franklin the representative to France, among the 300,000 people in there. Rozier and Arlandes threw straw upon the fire to keep it blazing. And then they went up, up, up. And then....it happened.

Sparks from the fire burned holes through the linen. The two dudes had known what was coming, however. They attached sponges to poles after dipping them in water and put out the patches of the fire. They eventually laded five miles from the point of departure. It was the first manned flight in a hot air balloon, but earlier, however, was a chicken, donkey, and other animals in it were the first living things...well, not if you count the dead paper linen as trees...:)

Scientists from the French Academy of Science observed the flight. It was amazing two kids had made this possible! Professor Jaques Charles, studied it. The lift came from hot air which floated in the cold air, just like planks on the sea. Hot air must be continually lifted to keep it going. But Hydrogen would work better, and even though it would be thin to escape through the linen, the Professor invented a silk fabric with rubber on the sides of it. It was both light and strong. He went up with a friend, and it performed without flaw to the people of Paris. It rose to 1,800 feet, higher than the previous flight. They landed 25 miles away and Charles then went up again by himself. He actually saw, from the rise in altitude, the sun set twice! The rest is history, with Joseph Gay-Lussac making the adjustments we see today, the pulling and stuff like that. But balloons became toys of wars and governments, in the France fight in Algeria, The Civil War, as reconnaise mission stuff and seeing their enemy. The hot air balloon paved the way for heavier-than-air flight.

I got all this from my textbook, but I put it in my own words and added some info. It's Exploring Planet Earth: The Journey of Discovery from Early Civilization to Future Exploration by John Hudson Tiner.

And now you know the history of the hot air balloon. I think I'll write about the day we went in one in a different blog post about that day. I was going to do them in the same but I wrote too much about this one. Please read this one first.

Goodbye for now.

The Blogger. k

Some Strange Stuff

(Hey I forgot to tell you in the last blog post when we looked for a restaurant that we went to Andrew's Place from our GPS and it was a patch of dirt. Also, from Play Day, we went to a taco beach Cali deal with salsa dips and good fish tacos, and painted Woody's on the walls. Good food. It was called Baja Grill. But just telling you some minor details from the last two blog posts.)

Reader, you are warned, that there are some weirdly odd and down right peculiar things in this blog post. If you can not take the increased amount of eyebrow raising or widening of eyes, you may leave any time. There are unique, creative, scientific, and just plain crazy things in this blog post. These all go under the name of SSS, some strange stuff. Well, reader, you have been warned. If you are a dull person who does not like the unordinary in their readings, then read some other one that doesn't require as much thought and jaw dropping moments. If not, please enjoy this blog post about this spectacular and strange day.

The day was the 3rd of March, Saturday.

It started less than outlandish. We got up fairly early in the morning, and took showers and got ready to go. A lady last night at a pizzaria had told us about these three things, and I will share the history and science or culture of each strange stuff when I get to it. We were leaving the strong and safe and luxury of the resort, finally doing a touristy kind of thing. But before we did some people allowed us to go in there lot, the Pete and Donna people. We saw their dog swim in their pool too. Cute golden retriever. Nice granite bar area too. I only had one red book where three small animals were going to a volcano to get a badger to help them win a battle against the wildcats and their minions, except for the good one who's name I forget. Martin, Goff, the mole, and Log-a-log went along. This was the most action packed part of the book so far, and I was excited to read the end. I would supposedly finish it that day and do the Ireland book next. We went off in the jeep, leaving plush and proper and going into desert and dusty, over some bumpy roads. It was just south of Palm Springs and Indio and all the other Palm towns, and also just south of normal. Brown mountains and green sagebrush, all with flat cacti in a bunch...all were introduced to us once more from their leave of absence at Quartzite. This would be our view for much of the driving section to the things, the beige dust raising up around us like the toads did in the book as they went to these swamps. Their pursuers, two weasels, died by a swan. I loved reading that book.

After about an hour we hit off the interstate among bumpy roads, where we saw a gas station that hit the dust...almost literally. There was chipped off blue paint, a knocked out sign, and a single pump that was worn from age. It looked pitiful. Graffiti signs on the little building were gross and unruly words and symbols. But anyway, done with that road, we saw some water breaking in the horizon, as we made our way down another road going right and then up another hill. This was the first of the SSS. It's blue florescent waters, light and airy to the touch,, the water glittering on the first.... was very pretty. Many rocks around it, and dirt. We came up to a building with some picnic tables beside. It had red rectangular bricks sections on each side, and glass areas in between. On top was a weird roof with white fiberglass going up and slanted, like a lightning strike. Beside it was a granite sign saying: SALTON SEA STATE PARK AND RECREATION AREA. We parked in the small parking lot, and walked to the sign that told of the building being from the State Park of CA. What was so strange about this lake in Cali? Well, I'll tell you once we get inside.

To the left of this Salton Sea (such a strange name...Hmmm... S is the first letter of each word...incidental) building, was a little gift shop with a few items, and panels along the walls with stuff about science, how this inland sea was created, all that with the fish and environment. There was also a carton full of books you could switch out, an exchange. Then on the right, more panels and charts and graphs, with farther on the right in the back a table with a guy talking to two biologists. In the middle, a counter with a screen flashing behind them. The nice lady told us of a movie in fifteen minutes we could watch, which would explain how the Salton Sea was made. After seeing some things and looking at the books, and going to the restroom, we went into the little dark room with projector and some benches. The movie started.

It wasn't a high definition Ken Burne's production, that was for sure. The screen was fuzzy and some colors, fat lines, flashed on the bulky T.V. A park ranger was interviewed and it was very amateur, with weird old maps and pictures of men, and white captions. Here's what it said: millions of years ago there was water an inland sea, rushing out and coming in, with the change of climate and different world geographic and geological events. In the early, early 1900's some business men (who's names they listed but I now forget) decided to convert the fierce waters of the Colorado river into farming fields in South California, the Imperial Valley. What's weird is it was already called Salton, the town, before the lake. So what's so weird about this lake? Well, it happened by accident.

The bone dry lake was replenished when snow melt and and a lot of rain falling down made the Colorado rapids rush through the Alamo canal. It had been set up in Mexico and the people knew they had created a monster. It wasn't the salt from the sea that had come in making the town totally submerged in 1905-6, 7 time period, and the water can't flow out of the little sea, so the water evaporates leaving behind salt and other minerals. Fish were introduced to Salton Sea, and all managed to die because they were freshwater in salt water, except for the tilapia which in the summer and spring constantly dies. Well, the video dragged on for a while and then it ended. We had learned a lot about the sea, and it was very informational. After the movie, we talked a little to the scientists and I looked at some books while we went to the restroom, besides me. None of the books look good, but I might've changed the book I was almost done with if I could finish it quickly, but I wasn't THAT close to the ending. Well, one SS done now and two to go. Actually...not exactly. We drove behind the building to some picnic pavilions and took pictures. Rebecca and I jumped on all of the white big rocks, trying not to fall. And then....I saw it.

The lady last night had told Dad it smelled terrible in the summer because of all the fish deaths, and now I saw the most gruesome part of the day. Dried up fish, white and brittle, with some their mouths open, lay about the shore. Tons and tons of dead sea creatures were ample in their amounts. One was stuck up too me, like it was trying one last plea of help before it died, or coming out to attack the living.... I can promise you I'm not making this up. Fish tails and grey scales were found around the large grey rocks, a testament to the vast graveyard we were stepping in. The blue lake was not only a fun recreational spot, but a death wish, all the salt. We saw their eyes, their horrible brown eyes, contorted was their shape as they laid together. It was like they were roasted tan from the sun, years and months of basking in the rays. Hay was by them. One's body was bended, hay in mouth, sticking up at you... this was the true stuff in the world that gave you nightmares. The teeth on the brown eyed one, I could count them, the grey scales, the.... I'm not gonna describe it anymore. I do not want to get nightmares. I wasn't actually that SCARED on that day, just creeped out and such. Rebecca and I jumped on the shore while Dad stayed in the car and Mom talked to some annoying-voiced people who said Joshua Tree, a national park nearby, would be good to go to. But it was a long way away.

So spoke the people. Blogs and facebook given out, the whole deal, and then we left for the next SS, which Rebecca was very excited about. This had been scientifically weird, a strange bag of facts we hadn't heard before. So, we continued to go fast along the south of Salton Sea, and I read my book in all the desert around me. I found myself moving along in the desert with a big hill making an impression in the horizon. There was something colorful on it. What was that? And how did I see this big glob of different colors and designs? I could vaguely make anything out though. As we rounded the hill to the right and slowly got more closer, and then got on the same ground that it was on, I saw the next weirdest thing of the day. And it was a lot weirder than the lake, but still not as freaky and science like. It was actually quite the opposite. It was spiritual and bright. There was a white cross on the top, and it shone bright in the blue sky behind it. Then there were all kinds of paintings and designs on this sloping hill thing, with bumps and breaks in all the rolling. Many blue and white lines coming down vertically, with words and green trees and little spots. It looked like a storybook rhyme and all good and child like things. Salvation Mountain.

There was a blue old suburban like car, with painted letters on it with SALVATION, and Bible verses galore. Whoever made this, he was a true Christian and loved God a lot, to make this "shrine" or some kind of artistic church, if you will, to Southern California. It also had symbols on it too, and bizarre as it is, a little house with ladder and jail bars with a slated roof, all decorated with different colors. Did the person sleep here?

And then there was a building only to the right of this Church Hill, or Salvation Mountain, as the lady had said it was called last night. It looked like it was almost made out of dirt, with some bars and then no roof, and it was barely visible from where we parked on the dirt. I took a picture of the hood of the car having UNIVERSAL LOVE in a red circle, and other things. There was also a trailer by the dirt house, if I can call it that. We got out of the car, phones, cameras, and my video camera in hand. The lady had informed us that we could walk and play and slide down it, which could be fun. But at the same time, we would be playing on this artistic church, which a man built to honor God. I don't know really. But Rebecca sprang forward and started climbing up, as I stepped over some stuff and looked in that truck/trailer/house. I saw a bed, some candles, that kind of thing. I took long pictures of the peculiar vehicle before moving along. I went up a little yellow painted walkway, and felt the material. It was hard and dried, and chipped off in many places, probably from either the weather or the visitors that came to the Mountain. On my left was some painted flat flowers, of green stems and different colors, not very good drawings but they were fine. I can't do better. I continued up the field of blue stripes.

In the middle of this relatively small mountain was a cross, under which was in red GOD IS LOVE, with a heart of white trim and letters, all else red, with Sinner's Prayer, you know the whole God come into my heart I'm a sinner verse. It's the primary self converting prayer for modern day Christians. But anyway, so I followed the road, heeding the sign which said to stay on it. I wanted this mountain honoring God to stay up and not erode away. Well, as I went up, I wondered how this was made, over how long it was made, and if it was just a homely homeless man who was idle with his time and destroyed his boredom by this project. I saw Mom and Dad taking pictures below. Dad didn't venture the little climb up, but Mom eventually followed up to us with her camera. I looked at the green background and white LOVE words, and the little GOD IS above, with a red Holy Bible and black under. It was all bright, wonderful, and uplifting, with real plants actually sticking up from the paint and parts chipped off, which revealed the truth that no, we were not on another planet and yes, this was truly real, not a dream. It made the day in a sense brighter, the sun shone brighter than it did at Salton Sea, the sky bluer, the clouds less frequent and farther apart. Salvation Mountain.

I stepped up on the peak, beneath the white cross, and above the red dry paint which made up God is. It was a decent view from up there. I looked over some farm fields, which we had seen earlier with some grapes and other things while passing by some Latino farmers with a gun (forgot to mention that) and the Salton Sea. Although I wasn't THAT high. For instance, I could see Dad's watch as he was talking to a few men, and some motorcycle people with bandannas. Rebecca slid down the blue and white part, which I don't think was very nice to do, and stuck her head out of the O in GOD. Was she disrespecting the place? Well, I'm not sure on that one, because I did attempt the slide later. It might or might not matter. I mean, why would they make a little yellow sidewalk if you couldn't go up? A lady talked on the phone as I looked down to my right. And I saw something rather odd when I saw it. There were sides of it, it looked like sand and dirt and hay sides, colored on their outsides. Wooden beams stuck up in there too. All the compacted materials were colored in some way. There was no roof, just a jumbling of junk like in Spencer's basement. You really need to clean that up, man.

Rebecca told me to go the opposite way, and so I followed her. We went down the ledge to the right, balancing along the rim of this mountain on the top, and went along the colorful trail. Was this in a book or some kind of kid movie? Because we were walking over a rainbow hill with painted flowers and designs all around. But we passed the cross and then went down into an alcove area, passing by hay on the other side. Here was some more art and a lot of scripture verses, for people to come and maybe even be converted. Whoever made this, I think Mom said it was a man, had a great idea and certainly loved the Lord. There was in black pop out letters with white background and maroon small flowers below. It said John 3:16, -FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD THAT HE GAVE HIS ONE AND ONLY SON THAT WHOSOEVER BELIEVES IN HIM SHOULD NOT PERISH, BUT HAVE EVERLASTING LIFE. Such a great verse. And one everyone knows.

By it was a word web, a red tree with all these things in the middle, the virtues of Jesus probably: Meekness (which I don't think he had but we associate him with it, he also could yell at people who disobeyed the Lord) Faith, Love, Goodness, Long Suffering, Gentleness, Temperance. More colored flowers and roses, and all around in black all of the verses, blue and white in the background. This man had to of had a vision and a plan, or maybe he just took all the paint and over a white painted it over stuff. It was an artist's stronghold, for sure. Dad ventured in as I looked at a smaller version of the middle and main part of the mountain, down in the alcove. Well, after that, we sort of went on. It was a really cool and unique place, and there was no doubt about that. Rebecca, excited about the Christian art, wanted to go into the no roofed area. We followed a loud Mom and her young toddlers, the same woman who was on the phone. She had a white hat, blonde hair, and had gotten in every single one of my pictures. They made a lot of noise as I stood in the main area of this strange house, the little blue trailer in front. To my left was a hole or little dirt room, like something in Mossflower that the animals would make. It had tons of small colorful squares, little painted flowers, crosses, along with a dirt floor. Was this an Indian residence? There were also letters and flowers, and in one area of the room to the far center some trophies. Reading them, they all went to a Leo or Leonard, from baseball and different times like that. Was this the artist's room for prayer, thought, or something like that? It looked like he was sick, for there were get better letters and stuff. I felt like I was intruding on this man's space, and it was very creepy to look at his personal items, not in a museum. There was a ledge for sitting on. Who was this man?

There was one a little bit more down, an adobe structure also, and it looked rather the same. The other one was probably the bedroom or the trophy room, with this one the shrine. Painted crosses and Jesus painting, plus a picture of a grey haired shaved head, was also there. So what was this place? Oh, wait.... I got it. Sorry for ruining the mystery and illusion but I just found out on their website that it is a hogan, an abode building for deflecting the hot sun. Although the artist lives in the truck. Anyway, let's move on to the next part of the Salvation Mountain.

Everything was so colored with doves and rock and brick... very pretty. We stepped on the gravel and sand and went on. There were little booklets and Bibles and uprooted trees there too. And pictures of Jesus. Well, we drifted out into the open once more as Rebecca wondered what was his last name, saying Leonardo Di Caprio. We went under a shaded area, very dark in there, and there were painted, rocky and bumpy and not quite right, sides and columns. Rebecca said that he was dead but I told her about Inception which was made recently and he was in it. As we continued down, I saw some white buckets and shovels. It was dark but had bright painted flowers that were 3D and were puffed out with some kind of material behind them. We found ourselves in a hallway of some sort with other stuff on the sides, and Holy Bible in black and white like the ones on the monument. Then I looked up. Cross-patch were the branches that made up the roof, the rays of sunlight breaking in, and they were very pretty. They were very painted and they seemed like something out of a fantasy. As we walked farther down in the dimly lit area, Dad in the car, Mom ahead of us, we saw painted large trees, their boughs colorful unlike their real counterparts. No leaves on them. Was I in Alice in Wonderland? Because it was so odd and crazy and I was wondering at every moment.

The building, with the shrines and this area, was all colorful, which was almost everything in the entire property. I looked at a bio of Leonard Knight, on a little piece of paper, about him being born in Vermont and going to Korea ten days before the war ended, wanting to travel, becoming a mechanic and going to Cali to see his sister...when he was made a Christian in his van, alone, just reciting the sinner's prayer. He tried to get his message across by a hot air balloon, which failed. He became a painter of cars and worked several jobs, and then after a trip with his boss where he worked in Quartzsite doing stuff with tires, he liked the climate and made a little monument, which he called Salvation Mountain. That same small monument became what it is today, although once it totally collapsed. It was only made out of sand, cement, hay and other stuff. Then the county, wishing to make a campground and fee all these people in...well I'll tell you later, thought the whole religious thing would make people sue, so they ordered a specialist to test some samples for contaminants. It had a lot. They were going to demolish it, but people from an area said no and petitioned, and they went to San Diego to an independent lab which said their actually wasn't that much contaminants. So Salvation Mountain...stayed.

In 2002 a female senator called it a national treasure, and campaigns have been made to make it a national monument. We got some of this latter info from an assistant or informer there, a lady, blonde haired, with a boulder hat, tight jeans, and a purple shirt. She gave us a post card with it on there after talking about the next thing we were going to see, which I will tell you what it is later. She also told us Knight was in a nursing home, well told two girls who had come to Salvation Mountain from a local school to interview Knight and ask him specific questions. That's sad they didn't get to interview him, and sadder he was in a nursing home. Nice person. Well, we left and then drove off, away from the stellar Salvation Mountain. It was really unique and awesome, and cool to learn about Leonard Knight, the artist who made this wonderful monument to God. We talked to some men who said they always asked if they were Knight because he had a beard. Pretty funny. Alright, so we drove to the next SS, which was supposed to be the most outrageous and queer of all of the things that day. We went by the farms again, and then saw a small booth, with all this graffiti and inside some gross pictures. What was this place? It looked so odd and very strange, as we went in.

As it neared toward four o'clock, we saw we were at Slab City. And I will never forget that place.

Some more history here: Slab City was not a city but a military fort, an area General Patton in WWII used for training troops going into Africa. During budget cuts the government land was left and the slabs of the buildings still there, but not the buildings. Snowbirds from cold states and Canada come down in the winter and stay in trailers and R.V.'s, as well as hippies and people just trying to live somewhere, no taxes at all. On a sign as we entered we actually saw: Last Free Place on Earth" in big letters. Well, let me describe this INTERESTING (to say the least) place. Desert dirt and sagebrush was frequent, as was cottonwood trees spread out around the area. There were mostly pull-behind trailers, worn with nasty decorations, lazy boy chairs in a shaded area, fridges, campfires, and yellow couches with cushions that looked like they have been assaulted by a pit bull, a frightening animal we would see a lot throughout. Some of them protected their precious privacy, with barbed wire connected to large truck tires and spiked metal frames, anything of scrap metal that these renegade people could salvage. There were two by each other, and makeshift porches out of rotten wood, just waiting for the right time to crack under the force of them. Beer bottles were on tree branches, and people with bloodshot eyes and scraggly hair stared us down as we passed by.

THUNK! We locked the doors to the car.

We all talked about this strange place, and the amount of trailers and the none amount of houses was amazing. It got more wacky by the second. We saw a truck in front of a trailer, as if it was made only this way for the jaw dropping of tourists and the snap of cameras, with all this junk right on it. Everything from tennis rackets to tires to red lunch boxes were on the blue truck. It was totally crazy. But it got more bizarre as we entered the realm of this eccentric race. On top of little hills were total camping sites, on square slabs of concrete, chairs, tents, and the unimaginable things you could NEVER make up or fabricate in a book or film. The photos can only fully describe this amazingly strange place. We saw a thirteen year old emerge from a forest, barefoot and without shirt, with black hair and a fit appearance go by. You could probably just about get away with anything out there at Slab City. I don't mean to insult the people who live there... but... dang!

On the back of that truck was some rusty gas cylinders, and a trailer with a silver figure, cylinder too, and boat rotors and some other things. It was so just.... off the wall. Everything in this hippie commune was. We passed by a large stage where wooden tables and a building behind with yellow sign said THE RANGE. There was a stage area above the deck, so was it a concert area or something like that? Hmmm. Well, so we made it to a three sided area with some rotten toys out front, a school bus in the middle and then on either side was a trailer, white and fiberglass. There were tables with some abstract paintings, slate-like. We stopped in front and we went to a scraggly old lady with blonde/white hair named Sandy. She had red skin and was skinny. She came out as I looked at the toys, Buzz Lightyear and others, worn and torn. Mom started a conversation with the lady, who would become the only person we would meet at Slab City. She was nice enough and showed us inside where I saw some cool stuff. She also showed us a school bus, truck with some cats in it. She was a little freaky and eccentric, but nice. Rebecca got a few paintings Sandy made of Slab City, and Mom asked her about living there.

A school bus came every morning, not the one she lived in but one for kids. They dry camp for the most part but electricity is provided in some places, and a honey truck comes for all the junk and doodoo.They have a performing thing called the Range, which we saw earlier, and they help each other out by giving supplies away and have a community, but it's mostly every person for himself. They get their mail from a post office up the road, and if someone does something disgraceful they don't turn them into the police but they shun them and don't talk to them. A newsletter comes out every week and is a lady's sole means of income. It had a lot of history on it, Sandy said, and Mom asked me to go across the street, where the lady's trailer was, and see if she was there to get the newsletter. Timidly and with only a plastic holster and video camera in the car with Dad, I moved slowly to the trailer with a big tree and some junk. Why did she make me go out here and do this? What if she comes out with a shotgun? I saw and thought I heard a short haired lady go into a car or trailer, and looked in all the hidden brush. I heard a tug at a silver chain, and then footsteps. I then began as scared as Piglet from Winnie the Pooh.

RUFF! RUFF!

A white stout pit bull rushed forward and barked terribly, making me jump and step back. I tried to look left as it chased that way, and I still looked for the lady. Then I gave up, keeping my distance and not risking it to go and knock on the door, the pit bull blocked the way between me and the lady. Plus, I didn't want to be mauled. I went back to Mom and told her about the dog, and she let me stay and Sandy was nice enough to give us her copy. It actually had no history at all, which was weird why Sandy lied to us....

But anyway, we bid her goodbye and went on longer. I couldn't take my eyes off the window as I looked at all this quirky stuff. There was a young film crew, complete with mikes and large cameras. They were below and behind one of the oddest parts of the day. It was a wooden structure, with different levels and cardboard drawings, and confetti. A chair was hanging off the side of the four beamed pinnacle. Around it was statues of ducks and swans, white and brown and black. Then you had tires half lodged in the grounds making a barrier. These people obviously had a lot of time on their hands.

At another part though were nice motorhomes that were dry-camping, Class A's that had probably heard about it and were delighted to be here among all these weirdos. There were some Canadians watching a game in lawn chairs. They might be snow birds.

Well, it was finally time to go after stopping at times and taking a lot of pictures. We left the property and retraced our steps among a little canal, where we saw a man pass by on a horse. Crazy.

Then we went by the Salton Sea after Salvation Mountain and by that gas station. Martin the mouse killed the lady wildcat at that moment and I pretty much ended the book. It was great and descriptive. We again entered safety and the upper class in Motorcoach R.V. Resort. I am so glad that we went out though, it was informational, bizarre, strange, and crazy out there. Everyone of those three was odd in it's own special way. Salton Sea was scientific and unusual,Salvation Mountain was bright, colorful, unique, and artistic, and Slab City was strange, peculiar, and had a lot of crazy and weird people. The sad thing about these is that Salton Sea's water is evaporating and California's budget cuts might make the building go away... Knight is very old and the future of Salvation Mountain is unclear... Slab City is getting drug cartels and might be shut down by the police.... so all these things might not be there for much longer.

Goodbye for now.

What's funny is they all start with S, Salton Sea, Salvation Mountain, Slab City. Salton Salvation Slabs! Eh, probably not,

Andrew. k

Brian fix-a-bout, Wash R.V., Oreo, and Stuft Pizza

(You should probably read two blog posts before this so you're not confused. Besides, there is good writing in there.)

I wasn't awake when Mom took out the dogs on the 2nd of March. We continued to play around after the previous day, where we had walked around, and played football. Everybody sort of lounged around a bit, taking showers and yawning as they drank coffee and orange juice. Brian, a mechanic who had helped us out a lot on the trip, was going to come and fix some problems in the motorhome. He was usually on time and unparallelled in his ability, skill, and niceness (for a mechanic) but this time his watch must not of been working. He was about thirty minutes late before Dad went to meet him and told him about the stuff that needed repairs. He had helped out a little bit yesterday, but done a lot of diagnosing, and today he had the tools for the problems the R.V. faced. What kind of problems? The door making a beep sound, cute and little, as soon as it shut. Some tail lights that had seen better days. My handle to my drawer underneath Rebecca's bed, puffed out and unable to lock, and most of all our hot water being hot in the beginning and then changing cold later. Brian would do all of these things, as Rebecca and I stood outside, out of the way, but at the same time out of something to do.

As a skinny blonde young mechanic paced the R.V. and used his tools of wrenches, hammers and screw drivers, two kids, two years apart, started off with football, and then did the zingers, which are metal silver balls that are magnets and made a zzzzz sound in the air when they join together. We couldn't have them by any metal. Then we took out weapons from the bays, Rebecca having a baseball bat hitter (rubber two pointed yellow big thing) also her staff, with me and my black stick which was my wand. The evil witch killed an elf who liked her, and Merlin finally took the magical staff when she made a student whiz fall into an abyss. It's a very complex story. I hid the staff so Rebecca would quit being the all powerful, that's the problem with playing with her sometimes...that she makes characters always that are strong and invincible. But anyway, Bane finally stopped her (I must admit I got that out of a wolf character in Mossflower) and they ruled alongside. They also played with the water fairies (some beach barbies, including a surfer named Drew) the animal fairies (one doctor and many girl small barbies) and the plant ones, same. There was the army, three green guys, and then the King who was Sheriff and the dirt fairies, who were evil and had black clothes. We formed a fun story about the water F's looking for a shark, and the dirt fairies attacking the plant ones. Fun.

Bane was a character who made them fight because he liked good entertainment. Pretty hilarious.

Later when Dad was talking to Brian and men came out with pressure washers, gun things that are long that shoot out water. Mom played football and told us something about called All Time QB. We were able to play with three people. I got knocked down and Rebecca was pretty hard core at her enthusiasm and innocence when it came to not knowing the game. She was pretty good however. Well, we played that and then I sat out with my red book in hand, thinking of as soon as I finished it to read a book about storytelling and Ireland's myths, as it was the month of March and Saint Patrick's Day was coming up. Although it was a thick book. Would I get it done?

Workers came with a trailer that they connected the cables to the guns too, rushing water over the roof and soaping it with dionized water. It's weird to be inside and have all that around you. If you wave at them, they never wave back. Can they even see us, I wondered. But I blogged seldom on that day, or on yesterday for that matter, just because I was enjoying myself and was kind of lazy. At about noon after Mom had made me a sandwich, she declared that because it was such a good place to ride a bike and I didn't have one we would be buying one around the area of La Quinta. I said it wasn't worth it and it might be stolen again, and that I didn't really need one...they would be scratched up on the bike rack. Mom wouldn't budge and Rebecca went with us in the jeep as Dad talked to all the mechanics and workers. He loves to start conversations, and thats the cool thing about him. But we exited the R.V. after going through all of the nice people's lots and all. Read the previous blog post for all of the descriptive details. We made for a rich area, kind of commercial and suburb like, where we would look at tomorrow as that was the day for the festival showing strawberries. We stopped at a tiny bike shop off the road to the left in a small shopping center. We walked in.

All these fancy mountain and street bikes, of various colors, designs, and sizes, were laid up on either side and above us. In the middle of the store was a counter where a guy who looked similar to my friend Rowdy was. He had a buzz cut, strong yet thin, had brown hair, and talked and acted like him. Was he a long lost brother or twin to my neighbor? I know that the Miller's read this so that's why I mentioned that. You guys are awesome and thank you for taking care of everything at home. Can't wait to see you!

He helped us out, but later we found out his name wasn't Rowdy but Bret. He was a smart kid, asking us if we wanted mountain or street bike, telling me ones in my size, as Mom said that we shouldn't get anything too expensive as it would get scratched up. I looked at a few I liked, but they didn't have the money. I remembered my last time in a bike shop in Maine where on my birthday I had gotten a bike. I didn't know until we were inside that they were getting me a new bike. I loved that bike and wished it was never stolen. Oh well. Bret thought on his feet after minutes of pondering He said a man wanted a repair of his bike and then never showed up to pick it up. Bringing it out, it was a black bike with worn out handles, and purple letters saying ANTELOPE. I hated black and purple as colors, and liked blue and red a lot more as I had looked at the other bikes. Mom called Dad and said outside as she consulted me that it was a great price, and although it was old, it could be scratched and it wouldn't matter because it was black anyway. Also, we could get a new one when we got home, and I needed to have a bike with all of the kids and at Motor Coach R.V. I considered. I hated the color and the form was fine, with the soft leather seat. Bret, using his resourcefulness once more, found a solution to a bit of the color.

He got white and black strap or handlebar tape, weaving it around the purple leathers. Replacing the old black handle bars that were about done, he got white ones that were fresh and soft. He got a kickstand for Rebecca and worked the whole thing out. I tested the bike and it ran fine, but you had to click a thing instead of turn it down to change gears. I was awkward on it, it didn't run as smooth as my previous one, and it was kind of hard to ride, but all in all it was alright and I was glad we had gotten it. We went to an ATM and payed the nice guy Bret in cash. Such a smart dude. On the bike rack it went home. Sadly to my sadness, Rebecca happened to be eating black and white cookies, Oreos. We were coming up names for this bike, Penguin, Zebra... and then Rebecca said it. Oreo. I didn't want my bike to be named after a sugary treat, but the name stuck. I would rather have something else. I hate that name.

I biked with Rebecca, and traded a Roman book for Hondo, a Louis L'amour book. I would try his style of writing out and see if I liked it. I loved riding on a bike again, the wind in my face, my hair twirling around, all that. It came the evening and after many nights of not eating food out we went into the La Quinta area, where some Spanish architecture is with the balconies and the cobblestone streets, like in the town of New Orleans. That's not French, it's Spanish, because when the fire occurred the Spanish, who owned the city at the time, said that their buildings wouldn't burn and used their own. Well, as the day slowly ended, we came to Stuft Pizza, which was brick and was very nice looking with a patio on the front. Inside they gave us a red beeper, with a lot of people in there. We were packed like sardines. We ate and looked at people on our left eating outside in the Italian like place, with all the ivy and crosspatch roof. As we sat in the harsh cold Dad talked to a lady on the left while we sat on a right bench, me reading. She was large, black haired, and young. She showed Dad pictures of a fantastic and unique place only south of here, where they have a salt sea, a rainbow mountain, and a desert full of hippies.

Read the next blog post to find out more.

We ate at a big round table and Rebecca got cold and sick, even though there were heaters. Dad told me a story of him and his then girlfriend Freda filling in for waitresses at a place they frequently ate at where they knew the people. They recommended the pizza that was named after Freda, and it sold like sunscreen. They called it "Freda's Surprise." It had all the toppings upon it, so it would probably be called an Everything Pizza nowadays. But the meal was good and we put it in the box. We later left and went to home, where we watched T.V. and hit the hay. It was an okay day. We played a little, washed the motorhome, bought an uhh... interesting bike, and fixed a lot of problems in the R.V. But the next day would be even better.

In Mossflower there are moles that make the tunnels to destroy the bad guy's castle. They are low life's and have bad grammar. I'm going to say Goodbye for now in mole:

Gudbi' fur noiw!,

Andrew.

:)

Play Day

How is it possible that we went from the dusty and dinginess of Quartzite to the plush, prim, and properness of Motor Coach R.V. park, not to mention the lushness and luxury? That was the thought I uttered on the first of March. We were having a wonderful time even after our first 24 hours at the resort of a place, and we had already gone to the pool, walked around, and just kind of relax for a while. I met Brian again and that morning found out that he was THE Brian, the handyman who had helped us out on the trip. But anyway, we wondered what March would be like. Dad had said we were going to spend about a month in Cali alone, so we guessed that that was what March was going to be. How action packed this month would turn out to be.

It was probably one of the most action packed months of the trip.

Early in the morning, before showering, we decided to take a little walk with the dogs, the whole family. It would put some good exercise in for the day, but there was going to be a lot more of that, although we didn't suspect it. I hadn't ridden my bike because I didn't had one, and anyway most of the campgrounds between San Antonio and here were gravel. However, this one had paving, sidewalks, and so many nice views to see around the area. Some brown sheer crisp mountains surrounded the valley. Short palm trees were all around, and most of the sites were rather decorated, beautiful, and unimaginable. When we set out and got the dogs to pee, and then walked along some more, we had no idea what was in store. Just on our own row were R.V.'s, nice with fiberglass swirls and different colors, and then usually a table or two with umbrellas. Sounds pretty okay, right? Now imagine some of them huge, with brown rock cobblestone etched into the pavement. Also, it's a double lot, outside of a row, on a corner, for all of the premium passerby's to gaze at and widen their eyes at. Let's put on the right side a marble bar, and then before that put a mock wooden thatch Indian residence, a little side building, called a bungalow. Still more, always more with these millionaires, beautiful roses along the sides of a grassy garden walk area, with square concrete stepping stones. Now, let's top it all off with a rushing water fountain, brown small terraces which the water trickles down after spraying up in a magnificent ark of icy H20. And this, is ONE site. :)

Some sites, in shady areas, had green grass in the background, but most of these lot owners would not waste that space for just some play room...that could be done at all the empty rented guest spaces nearby. There were cute vintage yellow golf carts also, that whizzed down our sides sometimes with elderly couples just down right enjoying their retirement. Many large dogs, from golden retrievers to jack russell terriers, to big black and brown cute harry dogs. They were all a part of the mix. I was surprised to see all these runners, walkers, and bikers up this early in the morning. And they were seniors, some of them!!! But anyway, we walked along with the glistening blue water on our right, and we hadn't even seen some of the best of the sites yet! There was one that Rebecca thought was pretty awesome, a green motorhome with a balcony to the left of the door, on the R.V.! They didn't have the best view in the morning, but it was really a little porch with chairs and one of those tables again! Can you believe that? It was probably the most bizarre thing we would see that day, mostly because we didn't really go outside and see bizarre things. Well, we totally went outside, but not out of the R.V. resort. It was going to be a play day.

We crossed a corner and went to another street, that had in the middle of it on the right side a massive hill, which was concrete and had a metal gate on either side of it. Going up and later in a bike, we saw that this was a large bridge over all the water. A dark lagoon of pure water was under and on either side of it, twisting and turning so. Palm trees rose up above and docks, wooden and shaking from the power of the last speedboat, were on the sides. Some small boats also made up this tiny bay. We went over the road shared by cars also, and that was the only downside to the walk. We would have to stop when an R.V. or truck came by, and then go again once they were done moving along. But this was truly beautiful. I lo....we loved, just being able to walk along and not really DO anything today. But it wasn't the kind of play day where you stay around and sit in the R.V. and just chill, there was so much to do here, boat, (in the super small lagoon) swim, walk and see all the people's houses, and also play games in your green space. Along the rows we saw big gated places and R.V.'s in the shade. At one of these, a green metal gate, we saw some glossy paper taped to it. An R.V. with some yapping dogs was beside it. A lady with blonde short hair came out and said that this was another person's lot but that they were thinking of selling it in a short time, so if we wanted we could just go into it and look around.

Dad had already moved on during the conversation, but we stayed and kindly thanked her for her gracious offer. She moved the metal cables to open the gate, and thereafter led us in. Everyone we had prior met was very nice, and she was no different. It was so nice, with a bar and crosspatch roof, little stools hooked up to a nice granite surface. There was even a hot tub, and big part even behind this, that had a pool! We couldn't go there, through the ivy surrounding a door into this realm of the wealthy. But thanking the lady, we moved on and got her name. She was a dog trainer, and showed us her own lot where there was some obstacles for her puppies in the long grass area behind her lot. Well, after walking past the bridges, whizzing golf carts, awesome and just plain beautiful sites only pictures can justly describe, we came back on her own row. We had seen all these lots facing the water, such a better site than what we had. Also a great nice Class A with some sides, a garden, a brown cobblestone, and at least four cars. It must be like a million or two dollars. To a middle class family from Georgia, this place was something else. The R.V. had a tag on it saying RUF' N' IT. Right, the Prevost with four slides and a water and golf course (did I forgot to mention the resort had that too) view was roughing it. Right.

It was also a great time to bond as a family, talk about home, future projects, and just chill. At home we sat outside and the parents drank some coffee. I read some of that awesome red book, getting quite a few chapters done as Rebecca chilled. We then realized that the barbie from the pool was gone. So we went and we retrieved her from the little wet area. The other toys were still wet, but damp. We leaved them and for the rest of the day Brian went through the R.V. park. He walked around and I read a lot. Dad, after showering and everyone done with their morning tiredness, agreed to play football with Rebecca and I. This was going to be fun. In our white tees and regular shirts and shorts, we formed teams of Mom and I and Rebecca and Dad. We got the ball first. Mom was the center, and me the QB. I down set hutted it. Mom went to blocking the defense so I could run like a gazelle to the in-zone) hedge, and it was funny because she lost her balance and landed on one side on the ground. Rebecca took me down on 3rd down, which was right by the in-zone. We continued playing for a very long time, me receiving, Mom throwing, Dad guarding. Rebecca tried to tackle me, and fell by the roses on the green grass, scraping up her legs. She threw it weird, didn't know the game, but she was a fairly good football player.

Mom runs with the ball as I block and Rebecca goes to tag her. Then I don't hut it as a center is to do and just sneak attack the ball, desperate to get it in. Dad, taken off guard, rumbles in his khaki pants but is unable to snag me. Just on the right side Rebecca thinks she has me but I pass the trees right before her, falling down. She later runs and gets tagged like three times but then does a victory dance. It was hilarious and I loved playing with my parents. Sure, I miss my friends, but my family is greatly awesome and over this trip I have gotten to bond and know them like never before. Playing football, sweating, throwing the ball behind the R.V. and getting black grease on my hands, drinking water, and seeing people smile as they passed by, were all part of the day. That awesome day. The play day.

We went on a little bike ride but Dad and I rotated. It was sad I had no bike when we were at such an awesome place. I thought we didn't need to until we got home, as it might be stolen again, but that was not the opinion shared by Mom and Dad. They said I should get a bike soon, but the others were scraped up from being on the rack at the back of the jeep. It is what it is. We came up to the beautiful clubhouse, and went up the side thinking we might be able to eat here. Rebecca and I took pictures at the ram after the strenuous and long climb up. We went through the double nice glass door to all the music and podiums, with a man in a tie and all these people in dresses and ties eating wine glasses, nice tables and a long window looking at tennis courts and other stuff. The man said they had brunch on Sunday but were booked until 11 that night. This was a fancy place, so we decided to try the brunch on Sunday. Good decision.

We went around, me talking to Mom as the sun came down about schoolwork and finishing the math book, that one of her friends, said that it was terrible we were going on the trip because I would get behind. That started a few questions I said as we rounded our corner for the second time, on the left. Were we behind, and if so, would we catch up? I am currently on Chapter 11 of 18 in my math book, virtually done with all the other subjects, and hope I can get to 18 by the time of school starting in August. Anything is possible, and I think this is.

Coming home, we went to bed after a long but awesomely simple and rare relaxing days we have on this trip. I truly loved that little and long day that felt like four days. That play day.

There should be a reality show called "Interesting Methods of Destroying Pigeons",

Andrew.

Drive to Motorcoach R.V. Park in Palm Springs, CA

This is the 333rd blog post of Bourne's Big Trip. A pretty cool number, isn't it? Let's get to 444.

We were going to California that day, to get away from the awful Quartzite we were now stationed in. Please read the last few blog posts for more details.

California, where movie actors, Disney Land, and giant trees that are brown but are called redwoods dwell! The California from my dreams, day and night, from those days of boredom where I imagined being a director, in my seat, on the screen, and into people's hearts and lunch boxes. The California, known for it's bushy haired surfers, strict liberal laws, and where you can buy drugs and not get arrested! Such a fanatical and unique place!!

Mark Twain mined there, Jack London wrote there, Full House was made there (among almost every other movie or T.V. show in the U.S. in the U.S.) and Britney Spears became a monk with no hair there. California, where cartoons and Disney movies are turned into a reality, and where people are young, easygoing, or really harsh on protecting the environment. California is a place of mystery, dreams, and wonderfulness, where everyone plans on going or has gone, even to foreigners. It's the movie capitol of the world, the surfing capitol of the world, the liberal capitol of the world, and the state stretches almost the entire coastline of the Pacific Ocean! It is in truth a wonderful place to live and an even more great place to visit. And this blog post is about us driving there.

There is nothing rather important to report of the morning. Rebecca sacked up her rocks into coffee cylinders, Folger's cups, and shoeboxes (quite an inventive girl) while we all got ready on our limited supply of water. Chris put the glass on brand new and Dad paid him in full as we then got all the sides in. This would be our ride to get out of Quartzite!! Finally! Not to sound mean, but the majority (3 of 4) of us did not actually like the small rock-nut town. As I blogged, we settled out of the town in a heap of dust. We got on a highway, direct for Palm Springs...well actually, a call from Indio fairly close to it. Same thing, anyway. Why were we going there besides to see the town? Well, a handyman named Brian who had come to our R.V. and fixed it up in Roswell was working at the R.V. park and fixing rigs, as they called the motorhomes. Upon the trip, we have owed it to Brian to help us with the T.V, engine, and all different sources of stuff. We called him up, and he was ready to help on the line. Thank you so much Brian! Without you the trip would've been impossible. Yeah seriously. We could've never counted on Spencer for what you do. He says he's handy with tools but you just know he's trying to impress the girls. Oh Spencer.

After brown mountain, sagebrush, shrub, dirt, rock, sudden change on the highway as we enter my favorite state ever. Commercial gas stations, all kinds of chain and corporate restaurants, and regular town area. We were closer to Indio. A post office, car wash, hotels, we were at civilization again! And then, palm trees! Huge ones dotting the sides of the large street, in between a grass area that was long and large. Nice old cars driven by old men. We were now here!! California was the thing I was most excited about at the beginning of the trip, besides NYC and Mount Rushmore and a few other things. It was a dream to get there. On the last day of Feburary, we got ready to get there, itching along a town in California, the state of fruits and nuts. Now we were along a nice sandstone rock wall, like at the Phoenician, with brown brick and all these red and purple flowers around, stretching all across the road with some sprinklers hosing their water as if to impress a girl. The other side was just the same, but not with the shining gold sign of Motorcoach R.V. park, but with something else. No gate, surprisingly, just green vine along the wall as we entered. And then, what a lawn! What a property! What a park!

There was a break in the beige wall, the vines stopping at this point, and several grassy areas with little circular glass tables, purple and yellow flowers, of all different times. This was like the Phoenician, but this time we're staying here! I looked up at the massive trunks of the palm trees, the little spiky area at the top, and the wooden shavings coming off like slides on the top and bottom. And then the Jurassic looking leaves, the greenness with the long leaves, sticking out on either side... aw, the California favorite, a palm tree. All around were these things, after all, the place of destination was Palm Springs. There was black asphalt on either side of the grassy area in between the driveway. Asphalt again! No gravel or dirt we had had at Quartzsite! On our right, was a small sandstone brick adobe building, with red tile slates on the roof. There was a crosspatch wooden roof thingy, with air in parts of it, and also a brick terrace or porch with umbrellas and more of those glass little circle tables. This was the office or Registration place. A big parking lot was on the right. We parked the R.V. straight looking at the entrance I will describe later. So far I was really impressed with Motorcoach R.V. Resort, which at first I thought was Country Coach because of all the country coach R.V's around. We entered through a door around on the right side with a few parking places.

There was a nice marble floor and pictures on the wall. On the way over we had talked about being in CA, what to do here, and how many days we were staying there, stuff like that. They had a lot of cool stuff to do in Palm Springs area, a big national park called Joshua or something, and strawberries as big as a tennis ball. Dad had told me that earlier form his travels in Southern Cali. I knew, I just knew, that I would love this campground a lot and have a lot of stuff to do and have a wonderful time.

As the office showed me, it was NOT a CAMPground. Leather couches, expensive rare furniture and wooden coffee tables, and white walls filled with glorious paintings. There were doors, white, that went into executive offices, and a hallway when you go to this side of the room which leads to nice state-of-the-art bathrooms. The collection of tourist like brochures seemed out of place. On the left was a long counter with desks and computers and phones behind it, hidden from view of the customers until you actually peak over. A T.V. screen flashed HD security footage of areas, and pictures of all the stuff. This wasn't any campground store in a KOA that smelt of cat pee, this was a Registration Office and Information Desk, very proper and formal words that no one would even dare pronounce. I wondered what we looked like, sweat pants, jacket, helmet hair because of no water at Quartzite, and looking at the ladies in grey jackets and pants, with high heels and a lot of makeup. A nice blonde lady sized us up before asking about all the reservation stuff, which we did. You have to at that kind of place. This wasn't an R.V. PARK. This was an R.V. RESORT! After going through the process of map, where to go to and park, around the gate to the left and down that vertical way, and then turn right, she told us about touristy kind of things.

Walking over to the brochures she got one about a waterpark, and a few about this festival they have once a month, on a Saturday, this Saturday. It has produce and events, music and shops, and giant strawberries. I would get to see the famed fruit, on Saturday. She gave us two of them, one that was a lot bigger and farther away though. Thanking her, we then got back to the R.V. You think so far the place is pretty high class? You just read on, friend, and prepare for your jaw to be dropped. It gets better.

The gate was huge, beige, and metal. The olive trees on our right provided shade to some readers beneath the wide oaks. There was a man in a little gatehouse, you know the little square box with the yellow barriers that go up and let cars and stuff in? He took our pass the lady had given us and pressed a button in his compartment to let it open. He had a blue and white uniform on with a pilot's hat. The barrier went up and the gates slid back on both sides. He got in a little golf cart and would lead us on to the left. Oh, and then the clubhouse!!!! There was a large water fountain spewing up gushing trinkles of silver water!! It was on either side, in a line, one bigger than the last, arcs going up to embrace the air. The water was an acrobat! Oh, and that's not all. Dotting the sides was bright green grass as green as a sick kid who was a tree in a play and wanted to participate even though of his state. A lot of flowers too. And that wasn't all, there was something else, a vast hill going up, and some grass on either side again, and then spinning on both sides, a driveway. In front of a shaded drive up area was a statue of two rams hitting each other with their horns. The large beige brick building had some columns holding up the little roof over the porch. On one side I saw was a path and tennis court thing. What a place this was!

We slowly moved along in the R.V., as we followed the man in the cart. Along our left as we turned was the same brick rock wall thing, as we would see for a lot later. We turned and went along a very long stretch of road, and on our right was long rows of R.V.'s on either side and palm trees, grass, and nice cement pads. I will describe that in full later. We continued on, and turned right again to now be on the final one. There was a little gate to some maintenance stuff, and a sign telling your speed, which was required to be very low. Turning right, we got to the row which had our site on it. This also had the pool building, the little one that wasn't the nice one at the clubhouse. So many nice R.V.'s dotting the lines! NO Fifth Wheels like at Quartzsite, Class A's and Country Coach's and Prevosts, the nicest of the nicest of motorhomes. Wow.

We went around an area that had a round a bout turn, green grass and many nice sites.

We were now on our street. There was a building, gold and ever brick like all the rest of them, that had a square top in the middle, rising over two identical stuff like it. As Mom got in the jeep to lessen the length and stress the vehicle imposed, Dad and I marveled at this resort. The building was supposed to be a card room, lounge, and several other things reserved for only the members of Motorcoach R.V. Resort. Everything else, the bathrooms on the ground level, the pool and laundry, was applied at the very disposal of the guests. Mom parked right by this building, in a little lot. I passed people who had hot tubs and giant areas, which I will again describe later. However, in here there was less than before, probably because this area was more of the place where they had the sites of the guests, not the people who owned or rented their lot. So, our site was 67, and Dad told me to look out for it as I sat in the front seat, still rubbing my eyes from all the times I had thought I was sleeping. It was on the left side of it facing the grass hedge, with a little grass area. It had a concrete pad, and little area of asphalt, beige with a small table and umbrella, that was for relaxing. Dad parked in there, backing in. We would enjoy this place.

Mom told me, as she parked the jeep in a little parking area across the row on the right of the building, to walk the dogs with Rebecca. Instead of walking around which we could've very well done, we simply let them roll around in the grass and chill, after they had gone to the restroom. Man did they love the grass. In Quartzite and even Phoenix, they hadn't seen little or any bright green and perfect grass, the little shreds looking up at the sky. They rolled around and chased each other. We felt okay at having their leashes off, so long as if they just stayed in the grass area behind the motorhome and to the left a little and stayed in our view at all times. There was a bush like tree thingy on the left wall, which we thought was pretty. Flowers, purple and of florescent colors, dotted the signs. We looked at the green vines sticking out, sickly and having darker tree branch color on their stems. But the grass, how good to just play in it, and feel the rush and tickle of the leaves on your palm, and smell the earthly fragrance as if it is new. So peaceful. The sky was of a perfect blue color, and the sun rays touched mild, yet breezy, and yet warm on our skin. California was a place of the most relaxing climate, we saw right then.

Mom helped Dad with the sides and the electrical pole, on the right side. What to do for us two? Go inside and blog or read? I didn't feel that good again, my head kind of hurt from the ride, and I could read a Redwall book(series about animals in Britain fighting each other) Mossflower, that the kindly Mrs. Powell had given to me, along many other books, in December. I had finished Alex Rider the day before. I needed an easy book after reading the long and lengthy and complex book that A Tramp Abroad was. Should I do that? Nope, that wasn't Rebecca's game. She wanted to do some catch with the football. Okay, fine, I guess we'll do that. I need the exercise probably anyhow. Let's relive the scene. Rebecca rushes and rattles in the stifle motorhome that the dogs stick out their tongues and wagged their tails in, and then gets the brown oval leather ball. She opens the black flat door handle everyone hates and jumps onto the concrete. Brushing her feet into the grass she says "Think fast" and hands me the ball. I catch it in both my hands and it slips out quickly, to be caught in the gut of me. We do that for a few minutes, and I also put my red hardback and small book, Mossflower, on the rock right wall. It was fun to just run around and play catch, back and forth.

Rebecca and I argued a bit though. We got into the habit of insulting each other's playing, which was a pretty sorry game. I tried to teach her that you won't supposed to throw a football underhand like you would throw a bowling ball, that I couldn't catch it there. We continued to play for a few minutes though. Falling back, hitting over, yelling, but still having fun. At one point a latino looking man came with a chainsaw. We thought he was getting ready to murder us. It wasn't the case. He simply was cutting the hedge a little, getting the leaves and trees a little trimmed. He didn't even talk to us; maybe he couldn't speak english. Over the next few days we would have a lot of workermen invading our space. They would sometimes even utilize the large space of entry and come in on golf carts! Pretty crazy. Well, we got bored with playing catch. Rebecca went inside to show me something she had gotten at Gem World, called a Zinger. She took them out of the black box and then showed me the metal silver balls that were all connected. You throw two, in separate hands, into the air, and then they attach by them being magnets. In the process they make a "zing!" sound. It's really cool. They're like little bombs.

I went to get Dad a drink as he told me to do so. Rebecca went by him. I came back, and he was talking to a blonde skinny man with cut army style hair and blue eyes in a truck, the back opened and seemingly having no door. A white hair bearded man with a cap was with him. Who were these guys? Had they just stopped by and Dad was talking to them? I shook hands with Brian and Steve, Brain the Blonde and Steve the muscular and bearded. It was actually only until way later that I realized that this was THE Brian, who had helped us out with all the problems. That's funny. I must of not made the connection. I had thought Brian was brown haired, even though at one point I had met the man, in Roswell before the trip. That was actually the whole reason we were really staying at that R.V. resort in Palm Springs, so that Brian and Steve, handy men of greatness, would tune up our R.V. Dad gave them a list on his iPad he made me get, and I passed by Mom who asked what was going on as she sat in the air conditioning. I stayed inside after hearing Dad tell a story, about when even in a tornado they had made 1st and second class, one area with a couch and T.V. and fridge, and one with a full class bar and plush wonderful seating. That's pretty harsh. When there's a storm a coming different people should be at least able to stay in the same area of others that are hire in the job scale. I mean, come on.

I read inside a little, about Redwall characters and a mouse in the snow named Martin who gets captured by some wildcats in their castle. I love the writing and everything else about that book, how descriptive it is, all that. That day was a day in the breeze. In other words, we felt so good and so happy about being here at the R.V. resort. I mean, this was amazingly luxurious and we were a couple of people in public school from Georgia, so all this Cali high class was brand new to us. The palm trees had been in so many movies, the tan men with the bushy hair(we didn't see any; I guess their on more of the coast) and all the nice motorhomes. This was surely one of the nicest of the R.V. Resorts, besides one in Michigan and a few others. We would have a wonderful time here, relaxing and letting Brian and his buddy do some work on his motorhome.

Later, Rebecca convinced Dad and Mom to take us to the pool across the row. We didn't have time to go walking around the park which was suggested by Mom. Taking all our goggles and towels and feeling exciting to go pooling as it was Feb. and the last time we had swam was Jan. We entered a door between two other doors to the restroom,and then walked through an open air door entrance with rock on either sides. The laundry room was to our right. We came to the little pool, after looking at the staircases that go to the member's accommodations, and also the card room. The pool had a gate which surrounded it, and a hot tub to the right. We entered the area, with the clear water and the little stairs, also on the right,leading to the seemingly hot water. Dad had told me about a story about a man, old, who had been left by his friends at the hot tub, and then fell asleep. He died. So I never liked getting into hot tubs, and don't really that often. I've probably in them like three times in my life, on a bet. I stay in there for a second or two, and then swim in the real pool. But anyway, we got into the area with the laid back chairs and table, and then looked past the gate. There was water, and green grass, and really small docks with speedboats. The R.V. park, miles from any ocean or lake, was a lagoon! A very twisty and pretty one too, with people just riding along. How better could this place get?

Mom and Dad were on the chairs. I jumped in first, and then Rebecca followed. We played faces underwater, swam too and fro, taking in the crisp clear cold water, that was refreshing as staying in all day and then coming outside in front of nature. The water over your goggles, making blurs in the pupils, the digging into the PH7 and the brief intake of H20 into your nostrils, all priceless. The delicate wave on your hair, the wetting of the hair, and then the raise up when you shake your bushy bangs like a surfer from Cali...all cherished and loved but yet repeated so many times that they have lost their charm and newness. However, when those feelings come over you and you drift through the hard water down to the bottom, and then lift off like a rocket, you know that that is why the pool was created, for that very moment, that very uplift, and that very pure joy of being alive and underwater. The floating on the back, gasping air and looking at the sun's rays, as you do a butterfly formation and kick your feet at the chlorine water, taking a relax after your fish like swimming. Your a fish without gills, reader, when you take in all that refreshment, and that's what we felt like on that day, as we dipped in the water.

I looked at a balcony on the second floor. What was up there? 

Boredom eventually came. Rebecca decided to go get some toys, so, she dried off and went to go get them. Later she came with a box full of barbies and rescue heroes. Over the stay at Motor Coach we would have many opportunities to just play. They had swimming competitions, with the master surfer who I gave to Puck (Rebecca's nick-name) at Christmas who she named Andrew in the lead. The kids got on flip flops that we had and relaxed, while two doctors stayed in the underwater apartment arguing. Fights, frights, and funny scenes with Swiss Scifer being afraid of the water were all part of the equation. It was fun to splash around with the toys. Although, an old man who had a beer-belly and had white hair, sat at the stairs and then did mini laps in the small pool. We had to worry about moving the toys away from him, and they were scared of the large giant that tried to enrage them. Mom talked to the man, who looked at my brave's hat and asked if I liked baseball from Atlanta. Thereafter started a LOOONNNGG conversation about baseball. The man, who introduced himself as Pete, had a site that he owned in the R.V. resort, told us his site, and offered to show it to us at some point. We thanked him as a lady in a weird golf cart came with a golden retriever. This was Donna, his wife, who said hello to us before speeding off again. Pete later left.

Well, going into the hot tub briefly, we did a guessing game of people we knew. It worked like this, you gave a few hints about the person, and then the other player tries to guess all these people. It was fun because it brought back memories and the personalities of the people that we miss very dearly. School friends, teachers, family, outer family, and old friends. Even mentors and just weird cool people around Roswell was thrown into the mix. We all just want you to know that we miss you more than people in NYC miss a taxi cab. And it will be wonderful to see you in the coming months of summer once we come back from our one year excursion. Until then, we miss you.

Back to the blog.

It was time to go, so we dried off and took all the toys up in a box after we had done a scene of two jealous brothers fighting over a girl, the doctors. We left one toy, a barbie named Stacy, in the box thingy on the side with the top over it.... you probably don't know what I'm talking about. I'm bad at describing things anyway. So, we put the toys outside on the grass, by some chairs and a coffee table which was on our left side and pretty far back by the lawn. It was a very good day, although we didn't do anything too awesome or tourist like. It was relaxing, luxurious, and cool to play around a little and go to the pool. We took showers and then got into dry clothes. We also went on a little walk around the place. But, I'll describe a little what it's like later in the next blog post.

Wait til you read it.

Paradise was found on the last day of Feb,

Andrew.