Portland, On Hold

From Eugene, we are moving on to Portland, and as it’s only a two-hour drive, Ric leaves me to sleep in as long as I need.  When I stir, around 11:00, he tells me that we are headed back to a repair shop at 2:00.

3crowscartoonThe engine warning is still showing up: ” Water in Fuel”.

So Portland may not be a go.  Instead, I am packing a bag for an overnight in a hotel.

At noon, the camp manager drops by to see why we haven’t checked out.  We forgot!  Luckily no one is coming in behind us, so there’s no rush, but we hurry to get things underway.

At the Cummins shop, I wait in the customer’s lounge while Ric talks to the mechanic.  Today should be a bed day for me.  My legs don’t want to work, and I am so tired and sick.  When Ric shows up again, he advises me that it should only be another hour and then we can get on our way.  It’s now 3:30.  We had cancelled the Portland stay.

Shari'sCafePies.png“Can we go get a tea or something?”

I order an omelette as well, hoping it will slide down easy.  When I awoke this morning, my tongue was on fire – not literally, but it sure felt like it.  I need to get my mouth looked at.

“We can go on to Portland, as originally planned,” Ric suggests, ” or we can drive a bit further and cut down the time for the day after.”

“It’s already late in the day.  Let’s just see if they still have room for us in Portland.”

superrigSo at 5:00 we are headed to Portland.  The problem with the engine was a hose connector improperly installed.  They also replaced all our hose clamps for us and topped us up with coolant.  Apparently Cummins engines are highly sensitive and tell on themselves if something isn’t right.  In a way, it’s very reassuring.

I sleep all the way to Wilsonville, which is where the RV park is located.  We arrive in just enough time to hook up before the sun goes down.  I head to bed and pray for restorative sleep.

Tomorrow, all going well, we’ll head into the city.

(Since I didn’t take any photos today, I’d thought I’d share some of the images from the road that I have enhanced on befunky.com)

Oregon: We Made It!

DrivingtoOregon“Could you please turn off the scenery so I can get some sleep?”

We’re leaving California and driving along highway #5 into Oregon.  Tall firs and pines line the road and a soft velvet green covers the hills.  Peaks in the distance are snow-capped offering a shocking contrast to the deep green tips.

The route takes us through several mountain passes, each requiring a reduced speed, which is adding extra time to our journey.  Normally, we only drive three to four hours a day, but it is clear today’s journey will be closer to eight.

pinesandsnowNeither of us slept well last night, and at one point we pull over so that Ric can have a half hour nap.  I am sick.  The problem with my teeth and jaw has worsened, and I’m unable to eat.  I don’t know if it’s just that or if the M.E. is flaring up, or a combination of both, but I just want to bury my head in a pillow and shut out the world.

Except I can’t take my eyes off the view.

matadorn.pngIt is six o’clock when we finally pull off the highway and follow the GPS instructions to the Armitage Lane County RV Park in Eugene.  We see what looks like an entrance, but GPS indicates it is further up the road, so we pass it by, realizing too late our mistake.

Now we are heading out of the city, on a rural road with no signs of a place to turn around.  Ric pulls over and checks maps.

“There should be a street up ahead that will connect us to that road over there, and then we can circle back around,” he says, pointing to a parallel road in the distance.

We see a large truck pull out of what looks like a side road ahead.  Ric makes the turn and we realize too late that it is a gravel drive of some sort.  With nowhere to go but forward, we continue until we come to an old farm house that appears to be occupied, but is in an obvious state of disrepair.  The yard around it is full of scrap vehicles and posted in several places are signs warning: “No trespassing.  Stay out!”

“Um, Ric…”

“I have no choice.  There’s nowhere to turn around.”

The gravel drive turns a corner and we follow it to a compound of some kind, fenced all around with barbed wire accenting further signs to keep out.  We can go no further.

“We’ll have to unhook the truck and try to turn around.”

There is a bit of a shoulder on one side, but the other drops into a ditch.

“It will be tight.”

Ric sees a guy behind the fence and waves him over.

“Can’t do anything for you,”  he says.  “Nothing for it but to turn around.”

“You’ll have to drive,”  Ric turns to me.

I haven’t driven for over four years, since the illness struck.  My mind doesn’t work well at the best of times, let alone when I’m this tired.

“I know.”

Then just as I’m backing the truck out of the way, another vehicle approaches and a voice says:

“I’ll open the gate for you.  You can just drive straight through and meet up with the road on the other side.”

ArmitagePkI follow the RV, not wanting to make Ric hook it up again.

“Those crazy Canadians!”  I joke to our saviours as we pass by.

They laugh.

We make it to the RV park on the second try.

This looks like an amazing place, but for now, I’m going to crash.  Some days are just like that.