How It Started...

A few years ago, as I was leaving my house with a friend, and locking the door behind us, I laughed and said something like ‘that will really stop someone from getting in and taking something if they really want it bad enough.’ My friend looked at me and said ‘the way I really see it, if my wife and children are out of our house, it could burn to the ground and I wouldn’t look back.’ Aha. Right priority. To me anyway.

It’s taken me years to move more and more towards less ownership and possessions. Of being so responsible for it all.  I moved from San Diego to Portland in 2005. I got rid of a lot of stuff then. I drove cross-country a few years later in an old boxy maroon Jeep named Conan, seeing how it would feel to live in my moving portable universe. I learned a lot. I still stayed in hotels or with friends and family, but I learned about keeping my possessions to a minimum. Then last spring, in the midst of many life changes, I drove up to the front of my darling little cottage and didn’t see the lovely rhododendrons in bloom or how fresh the wind smelled blowing through the trees. I saw only the number of weeds that had to be pulled. And that the front porch deck needed to be re-stained. And a fence board repaired. That’s it, I thought. I’m selling the house. It was so clear. I was done with home ownership. I had owned homes since 1984. I was done with it.

The house sold by July, and I rented a 500 square foot ramshackle teardown cottage. My brother nicknamed it “The Palace.” It was cute. It was small. And it was a temporary stopover while I thought about my next move.

During the long wet winter in Portland that moved into to the long wet early spring, I decided to head to Silver City, New Mexico. Population: 10,280. Elevation: 5,895 feet. Town with the closest movie theater: Deming, NM - about 50 miles away. No Thai food restaurants. But sunny and temperate in a high desert way. And loaded with artists and intellectuals, along with a very good little university. It is also home to one of my dearest friends and soul sisters. I made a three-month apartment rental commitment to try it out, and put nearly everything I owned in storage. I mailed two boxes of stuff to my friend in Silver City, and loaded up my car with everything I didn’t want to live without – some clothes, some linens, favorite coffee mugs, spices, books and journals, and of course, the dog and the cat. And all their stuff. They had more than me. Really.

I didn’t expect to be traveling with a cat. And my few trial runs with her in the car around Portland were not exactly enjoyable, for her or me. I tried all kinds of natural calming remedies, and finally graduated to Valium that my vet prescribed. He did say that if it didn’t work on the cat, I should take it, and then I wouldn’t care so much about the cat’s agitation…

The hardest part about leaving Portland, the very hardest part, was moving away from one of my other dear friends and soul sisters, and from all the other wonderful friends I had made there in the 7+ years. I promised them all I would be back. I just didn’t know when and for how long, and where I would make my base home. It will reveal itself over time.

It took me 3 ½ days to drive from Portland to Silver City, about 1650 miles. I had an epiphany about 2 weeks before I left that I didn’t have to drive 600 miles a day. I could drive 400 to 480 miles a day and have a much better time of it. Based on other long road trips I taken over the last few years, I knew 600 miles was about my top end. But on those trips I had not taken along a dog, or a cat that never stopped meowing.

Here’s a recap of my trip edited from emails I sent to friends from the road.

Day 1:  “Well, it started it off so lovely. A fine cup of morning coffee with friends at First Cup before I hit the road.  In the first hundred miles with a bit too much in the car (even though I thought I'd planned it well), and Phoenix the cat crying most of the way, my tire pressure warning light went on... Damn! So I found a Les Schwab Tire Center in Eugene and pulled in. They checked and it's the same tire that went flat on New Year's Eve, then again 6 weeks ago. They assured me it was fine when I double-checked this past Wednesday. NOT. And you may all think it's Easter weekend, but it's really "Oh shit, I have to get my studded tires off my car before the April 1 deadline" holiday - so the Les Schwab was swamped. But the guys were great, and they got me out of there with a new tire in about 1½ hours. Not bad, all things considered. Fast-forward 200 miles. Phoenix has stopped her incessant crying, just occasionally giving a half-hearted meow. It was actually pretty relaxing and then….

Yes, you've got it! The tire pressure light goes on again about 25 miles north of Yreka, CA. I call the Les Schwab in Eugene and get the address for the Les Schwab in Yreka. I pull off the highway about 10 miles north of Yreka (middle of nowhere, but very scenic) to see if I've got a bad tire. Nothing discernible. So on I drive hoping to make it to town.

I pull into the Yreka Les Schwab, and lo and behold they are celebrating the same studded tire removal holiday! The darling young man does a quick check and confirms that it's the new tire that is perilously low on air. Shit and double shit. So they squeeze me into the crazy schedule, and figure out that the tire is fine, but the tire stem is leaking. Thank goodness that was all it was! About 40 minutes later I'm on my way. 130 miles to Red Bluff and my hotel. And I'm a bit tired by now.

I make it to Red Bluff and my little motel. What do you know? A Les Schwab Tire center is a half-mile down the road. Just in case.  :) I unload the animals, their food bin, Phoenix's litter box, my suitcase, back pack, animal blankets, food satchel and get settled in. The good news? Neither animal has peed, crapped or barfed in the car. How lucky can a woman get? Phoenix had been saving up, so to speak, and used her litter box right away. Score 1 point for her. So I leave her in the motel room, load Indy, my dog, back in the car, and drive (literally) across the street to a wonderful little family steak restaurant. (Indy cannot be left alone in a hotel room. He would panic and I don’t want to pay the bill for that mess!) The restaurant does a great job with steaks, has a nice salad bar, and serves a very decent merlot. Oh happy day! And they start breakfast at 7 a.m. The hostess swears their coffee is fantastic. I'll be back in the morning.

So that's the first day. We all survived. Even the damn cat. Next stop, Valencia, CA. I'll do my best to check in then. “

Day 2: “Today was pretty uneventful. It was the longest mileage day, but still very doable. So I am settled into my hotel room in Valencia, CA. Phoenix had a decently calm time of it, as did Indy. On to Tempe, AZ in the morning. I want to leave early and do most of the drive before noon, as it will be hot on the road.

P.S. Question: What’s worse than the huge highway-laden urban sprawl of Los Angeles? Answer: Nothing.”

Day 3: “Easter Sunday.  I am sitting poolside with Indy in Tempe, AZ, sipping on a Marguerita, having just finished a huge and very decent Cobb salad. Indy especially liked the turkey, avocado and hard cooked egg. Yes, he is spoiled. And he still can't be left alone in the hotel room. Phoenix is ok with it. And speaking of the Pheenster...

A few days before I left, darling Patricia gave me a little canary toy for Phoenix that chirped like a little chick. Peep, peep, peep when she was disturbed, tapped or shaken. And she gave me a small bag of catnip too, hoping this would help with the kitty jitters. Don't worry Melanie, I have your full bag of catnip as a backup. You know, the one you handed me in the coffee shop that looked like a giant baggie of weed... ;)

Anyway, I presented the canary peeper to Phoenix a few days before we left on our trip. She loved it! She threw it around the house with wild abandon. In fact, she was so excited and inspired by it, she went out and killed and ate another small bird. This I know because I had to clean up the feathers and one tiny bird leg that she failed to eat. After I walked on it in the bathroom, of course.

As I may have mentioned earlier, Phoenix started settling down on the trip about halfway thru the first day. She only meowed or yowled thereafter when we hit a particularly rough patch of freeway, or moved around a sharp curve, or when we stopped occasionally so Indy and I could pee and stretch our legs. Before we left I threw the little peeper chick in her crate, thinking she might like it. But she's basically ignored it. I am reminded however, on a regular basis, that the chick is still with us because it too chirps when we hit rough pavement, a curve or a bump. So I have a chorus from the crate. The canary and the cat. Odd bedfellows. Or rather, odd cratefellows. I become oblivious to bumps in the road, or tight curves. So I smile when I hear the peeps and meows from the back seat that bring me back to the present moment. It is actually a welcome sound.

Okay, enough. The temp has dropped from 87 to about 84 degrees now. The sun is starting to go down. Families are gathering up their kids and damp towels from the pool and heading back to their rooms. The breeze has picked up a bit. I think I'll sign off for the day, read a few pages of Jill Kelly's newly published book (The Color of Longing - it's excellent Jill!!! - everyone should read it!!) - and when the light gets too low, I'll head back to my room and get ready for the last day of travel. Silver City is 307 miles away. I will be on the road by 7:30, and hopefully be there between and 1 and 2 p.m. New Mexico is an hour ahead of the West coast.”

Day 4: “I made it. I’m here in Silver City. We all survived the road trip. And so begins the next adventure.”