Thanks, Von Handson for that very creepy introduction. I got that from some horror movie. Now, I usually don't like scary things, or anything close to them, but this day that I am accounting was very scary, if you believe me. Now, usually the blog posts where I recount when we drove to and from a place are small, concise, and boring. But not today. This would go down as one of the craziest rides of Bourne's Big Trip, and for more than one reason. Scary, jarring, dynamic, unnerving, and hairy. But it didn't start out that way.
Early in the morning Mom and I maneuvered our way through the bikes and the tucked in R.V. site to walk the dogs. Rebecca turned on the T.V., and was forced to push her futon in as we were leaving today. With great reluctance, I even put up my wonderful silky gold bed, letting the air out and deflating my great old bed. And then, I turned it up into the sofa, shaking my Mark Twain books back in forth, mostly the short stories one. I was almost in time for a new book. But not yet.
Detaching the electrical cord from the outlet with our leather yellow gloves, we then took the water and sewer, which I have described the process of in earlier blog posts and quite frankly do not want to again. Taking the slides in, our wide beautiful R.V. became skinny once more.
Then I looked at this mean R.V. park with weird children and unloving people for the last time, and if I had known how great our next resort and the one after would be, I would be hoping and very excited. We pulled out of Anaheim, the very close Hispanic neighborhoods, with the big palm trees and all the different Disney stores, and finally broke for the highway, of which was windy and loud and the wheels and the engines never stopped groaning and humming, like unsatisfied people at a meal. The day was the 18th of March, and we were making a course away from the very closed desert like interior of L.A. and to the coast of good old Cali, for the first time we would ever see the Pacific Ocean. It was to be a momentous event. I had only seen one ocean in my life (not counting the Great Lakes and Gulf of Mexico), and very soon it would be two. But not yet.
Where were we going? It was a simple answer. Malibu, California. That was a big peak by the coast of Pacific and had a great shortcut to our next little venture. The real reason we were even attempting to go there was to see Mark Driscoll. He was Mrs. and Mr. Gould's (friends back in Roswell) buddy and friend. He had struck out to CA to start a visual effects company and had since made a building and started a really big business. They knew Driscoll from Carolyn (that's Mrs. Gould) going to school with Mark's wife. He had invited us to tour his facility, and boy were we excited for that. I was going to get to go a real visual effects studio! Only a few days before I had been to a director's house. Now I was going to get another perspective of the movie business, the people who add the effects and post production. So I was about to get two parts of the movie experienced, the in production (director/ directing) and the post-production (visual effects and Driscoll). All I was needing was the pre-production. Only a day more...but not yet.
Open highway by Los Angeles soon gave to dense wet forest, rocks upon the sides of the grey road, and old rough road that bumped and rattled the engine more than a rattlesnake in Arizona moves it's tail. It was shockingly beautiful country. All of the crestfallen hills, rolling green peaks, and the ancient oak and brown trees made the territory phenomenal in sights and scenery. We ascended and descended many hills, the road bordered with a small rail sometimes over rivers, or grey rock right in the chunks of the dirt, sticking and intimidating us. The land felt like Ireland, and I was reading a book about the wonderful country and countryside, trying to finish the twisting fiction with multiple conflicts by the time we made to the R.V. park. Even though I was video-taping and blogging, I soon was intrigued by all the pretty greenery that surrounded our little fiberglass rectangle. The sunlight filtered through the canopies almost ceasing, and wonderment fell upon my pupils as my gaze took to a large hill, steep and horrid. Our R.V. rattled, cranked, and sank. This was going to be one of those moments.
An awful moment. The dogs' feet skidded across the tile floor, as it seemed all of reality was being grabbed by some magnetic force in the Earth's core, drawing us backwards into the back of the R.V. Dad shouted as Rebecca sat in the wrong place at the wrong time, getting clothes out of her plush pull out area to put clothes as a white big box, the Barbie apartment in Rebecca's toy world, came rumbling down upon her head. Cries were probably heard for miles. Mom wanted to comfort poor Rebecca, who looked as if her head was crowned with a hot dog...(okay, maybe that's an exaggeration to a very small bump), but alas! we needed to get up this hill and Mom had a hunch that we weren't going in the right direction. Our GPS wasn't exactly for an R.V., but we would come to that shocking realization later. I stood to stretch after typing, and was rickoted back into the shower area where I slid upon the tile, creating bruises galore. Rubbing my head, and holding onto the shower handle, I came for the surprise of my life. We went DOWN the hill!
There and back again, as they say, as I almost flew to my couch, and Emma, my dog, barked and squealed as my head landed on 'er head. Then I flopped and hit the dust infected rug, where Dad barked for us to shut up and stop distracting him. Rebecca's watery tears and my seemingly fake rocking (oh it was real...this thing called gravity controls it) was really irking him, as he anticipated and got ready for the trials ahead. This was hilly country, and for a long time it had been flat and nice. If I didn't know any better, I could of mistake the place for rolling Vermont, the Vicious Vermont. Go back to the Vermont posts if you want to hear of our little misadventure there. But anyway, here came the terror of our lives.
The GPS, the built in one, wasn't actually an R.V. GPS, even though...IT WAS IN AN RV! We started paying attentions to signs as we continued the great trek downhill that remarked:
ROAD FOR THOSE UNDER 35 FT LONG. ALL OTHERS WILL BE ARRESTED.
Our motorhome happened to be 45 ft long! It was possible that we could be arrested? Mom knew we were going the wrong way, and Dad openly cursed the GPS. I felt like throwing it out the window. There it would of ricocheted off into the hard grey rock, broke into tons of pieces, and fall into the green trees and leaves. A nice thought. However, breaking it wouldn't solve anything. We needed a solution. Mom was very frightened by this, because we could be arrested, but we couldn't possibly turn around.The cars were speeding to much in the other lane, going the other way, south. They were fireflies in the hot summer, zooming along the rutted road. They wouldn't give us time to turn around. and the road wasn't that wide so it would take a long time and by that time our side would be decorated with dents from countless automobiles. So, we pulled off to the side by the railing, and Dad and Mom undid the metal attacher from the jeep to the R.V. Mom came back, informing us that Dad decided to go find help. We all prayed for deliverance from our latest misadventure, and I can't justly describe the impending doom we all felt. Rebecca tried to act nonchalant, but Mom cried about it. I was sullen and pondered the actions about to play out. Were we going to die? Would our R.V. be wrecked? Who could help us? I sighed a whole lot. Even the dogs whined a little in their crate. Mom discussed what could happen as we prayed some more.
A black compact vehicle slid in a slanting matter in front of our motorhome, the wide huge windshield looking down on it. It was clearly the jeep, and Dad soon got out of it, and clanked his hand against the R.V. door, then opening it with a creak.
"So what's the news?" Mom immediately asked.
"A cop was pulling over some guy for speedin' and gave him a ticket and I went and asked him if he could help us turn around, and I explained the situation. He said he'd follow me. He's behind the R.V. and he wants us to turn the R.V. around like we'd normally do and go through the left lane. He'll block the cars with his own and then another trooper will block the lane coming to us by foot , saying to stop and all that."
Looking in the rear view mirrors as Dad settled himself into his seat and cracked his knuckles, I saw the white and black patrol car. We began the suddell and excruciating process of backing up into the grass, going forward, turning a few angles, all the while bobbing back and forth and the rustling sucking noises and creaks and cranks throbbing in your head. Then, the coolest thing of the day happened. As we stretched out kind of crooked, our fiberglass sides shining as we curved to our sides, we saw the patrolman skid his car in front of the oncoming traffic, beeping his car horn and flashing the lights on, in a megaphone addressing the situations. All of the good citizens, the Jeeps, Hondas, Lexus's and Chevrolet's, in addition to many other cars, stayed and responded wonderfully to the cop's orders. But one black rebellious Nissan tried to sneak away, perhaps thinking that he had a lot of other better things to do and was awaiting some meeting or something of the sort. The patrolman horizontally skidded in front of the bar, beeping and flashing the lights some more. It was so epic, like something out of a car chase in an action movie. And it was real, playing out before our very eyes. I'm not going to tell you I rubbed my eyes, but I did stare in intense wonderment, and my eyes glittered and danced with the exciting fancy. We got to go down the road by a different route, turning around and all that. However, because of the close knit rock sides, dotted with different moss and grass but still however grey and jagged, Mom soon after drove separately in the jeep, as we came through the canyons that were still to test our wits and the power of the R.V., against the forces of nature.
We were embarking in a mountainous region, and the sprawling green valley was steep and cramped, it seemed. The motorhome huffed and puffed, exhaust piling high into the air as a swift wind stole the fumes which exited the back of our rolling rectangle. The green hills, doubled by grey rock sticking out of the sides tremendously, strode high above us. The air was crisp and clean out here, and smelt of palm tree, mint, and a tinge of that grass and ocean spray. You could almost feel the sun's rays reaching out to you as the sun, huddled with a dense cloud, shone in the horizon and brightened the very surface. Forest, with the tall trees and steep sides, soon gave way to more rolling hills, grass covered and as green as my sister when she's sick...which is a lot as you have heard in these previous blogs. Back and forth, up and down, side to side we bobbed and drove, all the while tons of items in cabinets and countertops crashing to the floor, and Dad raising Cain about how we needed to secure everything and keep the things from falling. It was a lot of stress to place upon our father. It seemed that everyone in the R.V. had stress. Dad had to drive us in terrible places, plan ahead of locations, and book us places. Mom had to help him out with that, take pictures, post them, and edit the blog. I had to write the blog and keep up with it, which in the last 6 months of the trip I failed to do. And Rebecca, well I don't believe she has anything major. But any who and anyway, let's get back to the blog.
Just the three of us in there, Dad, Puck and I. Mom was trailing us in the jeep. We were nearing close to the ocean, as a few stray palm trees starting popping up and there was the strange noise of seagull mingling in the air. And then we saw it. The great, the blue, the wavy, Pacific Ocean. I had never seen it before. How calm, how wide, how mind boggling that it just went on and on and on, no stop in the endless blanket of blue fabric, a sprawling and alive burst of new energy in the world, a bright yellow sun raging above it, as a beacon to all live below. How many secrets must the largest ocean in the world hold? What was under the countless depths of water which no man has gone or might not descend ever? How many pirate ships, merchant ships, or military ships must be sticking to the bottom of the ocean floor, wet sand and mold and clams and sea urchins hugging the sides of the enormous vessels? These were questions which were not to be answered in any short time, and actually, may never be answered in entirety. Mankind goes to other planets and gains a wealth of knowledge of things in outer space, but however, we no naught of a place right beneath our noses...or our boats... The Pacific Ocean.
However it was beautiful. Nothing like the green crowded and tumultuous Atlantic, the Gulf of Mexico or the Great Lakes. This was clear, blue, and I was crestfallen at it's magnificence.
We kept hugging the rolling hills, then approaching a high up ridge far above the large sea, the grassy mountainside sprawling with green. We passed by a university that was very nice, grey stone and a nice big sign. It was small and so high up, right upon the hill of this hole plateau. We could barely see it up there, the big driveway and the large sign. It was a Christian school. Pepperdine was the name of this beautifully made building. We would actually meet a lady later at the R.V. park who's daughter went to that school, a nice old curly haired ginger who was very kind to us in selecting a spot for us. But that's still a little farther off. Let us focus on now. Mom talked to us on the phone, her and I talking about her not being together with all of us a family, and that it was kinda separated. A little sad. It was the first time for Rebecca, but her feelings were the same when she had seen the Pacific Ocean for the first time also. It's vastness, great color, blue expanse, all boiled together for the same train of thought.
Okay...I'll stop talking about the ocean. But I'm still mind boggling over it's awesomeness.Just the three of us in there, Dad, Puck and I. Mom was trailing us in the jeep. We were nearing close to the ocean, as a few stray palm trees starting popping up and there was the strange noise of seagull mingling in the air. And then we saw it. The great, the blue, the wavy, Pacific Ocean. I had never seen it before. How calm, how wide, how mind boggling that it just went on and on and on, no stop in the endless blanket of blue fabric, a sprawling and alive burst of new energy in the world, a bright yellow sun raging above it, as a beacon to all live below. How many secrets must the largest ocean in the world hold? What was under the countless depths of water which no man has gone or might not descend ever? How many pirate ships, merchant ships, or military ships must be sticking to the bottom of the ocean floor, wet sand and mold and clams and sea urchins hugging the sides of the enormous vessels? These were questions which were not to be answered in any short time, and actually, may never be answered in entirety. Mankind goes to other planets and gains a wealth of knowledge of things in outer space, but however, we no naught of a place right beneath our noses...or our boats... The Pacific Ocean.
However it was beautiful. Nothing like the green crowded and tumultuous Atlantic, the Gulf of Mexico or the Great Lakes. This was clear, blue, and I was crestfallen at it's magnificence.
We kept hugging the rolling hills, then approaching a high up ridge far above the large sea, the grassy mountainside sprawling with green. We passed by a university that was very nice, grey stone and a nice big sign. It was small and so high up, right upon the hill of this hole plateau. We could barely see it up there, the big driveway and the large sign. It was a Christian school. Pepperdine was the name of this beautifully made building. We would actually meet a lady later at the R.V. park who's daughter went to that school, a nice old curly haired ginger who was very kind to us in selecting a spot for us. But that's still a little farther off. Let us focus on now. Mom talked to us on the phone, her and I talking about her not being together with all of us a family, and that it was kinda separated. A little sad. It was the first time for Rebecca, but her feelings were the same when she had seen the Pacific Ocean for the first time also. It's vastness, great color, blue expanse, all boiled together for the same train of thought.
And then we saw it. Actually...no...we're not doing that again. I've said that too many times. It's so generic now. So I'll just say... There was the R.V. park. A gravel path of road up, right off of the green hill and at the top and several different platforms down, it almost zig zagged to the top and was connected by a vast driveway, if you will. There was a beachy shack at the entrance, and our long R.V. rattled and groaned, exhaust piling up the people behind us. It was a little brown building, wooden, with a few tiki's around and a good many paths after it, and another one floor long building with windows and a flatish roof, close knit by a few spare palm trees, There were a few bathrooms and a few permanent R.V.'s, also a small hill and little sites, electrical outlets and all, trailers being the surplus of the customers. Not too many nice ones, but there were a few odd out there. It was right on the edge, and as Dad and I walked in, I admired the little motorhome shop that they had in there, a lot of postcards and beach stuff, with a lot of R.V. supplies mashed in there. The aisles and shelves were filled with different books and beach things. A little counter, piled with computers and pictures on a big cork board was behind us, and too British friends, tan guys with thick accents, made their reservation and signed in. I loved listening to their broad accents, and talked to them in their native tongue before they went off. We had a good little conversation, as Mom came in from the jeep. She talked to the woman about Pepperdine and how her daughter really liked it. The woman had actually gone out to help her daughter get comfortable and land on her own two feet for the first few months.
We took a great site right facing the ocean, our broad windshield being able to face it every day. Oo la la! There was also a little weedy shrubby path in which we could walk down and make our dogs go to the restroom, but could not on the actual R.V. park. To the right of us was a nice R.V. and a dumpster, also a few showers. It was a nice R.V. park, but a little bit leaning toward the trailer park side of the spectrum. Still it was going to be better than Anaheim in many ways. After Dad had parked and I had helped him with the water and the electricity, Rebecca and I went off into the close knit set of buildings, as Mom and I would later do also. Down a wooden desk from the small wooden registration office was a little kiddy playground and a small shack, pavilion type thing with fuseball. We went and asked the man at the counter for a ball while passing the small slide and plastic playing ground. It was the only playground they had sadly, and there were no other kids there to play with anyway. It was going to be a somber existence. However, we would be gone a lot doing tourist like things so there was no reason to stay. I beat Rebecca a few times at Fuseball and then she beat me once. It was a fun game but soon we had to leave because your parents wanted to go have a family walk down the peeing area. We looked to the waves rattling back and forth as the dogs pulled on the dirt sloping path. It was rock and dirt to one side and the waves and open air to the other side. Birds were a constant dilemma as the dogs sprang into a fury, attacking them with full leash, yanking us in the direction of their "prey."Still though, we looked at nice white flowers on the right, and cherished their beauty as we spun around turns and continued further down. Tints of yellow and pink started far off in the California sky, We later tried descending down a steep brush filled slope, by some garbage and a small restaurant at the bottom road, but then continued back up. Dad had far left by this point, to go look at the R.V. Back on our little peak, we admired the height in which we were situated. It felt like we were on top of the world, generic as sounds. The ocean spray and the cars passing under us, the trailers right and left from us, and the large strewn path which hung between the forces of hill and ocean...such was the beauty of this park! As I settled down for the night I speculated on the fantastic journey on which we had found ourselves on, the wrong road, police blocking, the steep slopes, the crazy entrance in and the beauty of Pepperdine. It was actually one of the best moving days we had encountered. And I'll never forget all it's excitement, action, and good family time.
Bye-bye for now!
We could use those policemen on the offensive line as helpers to defend the quarterback. I think they would be really good at that. --
Andrew.
