An Opportunity Afforded, Part III

The trip through the remainder of California was nothing if not beautiful. Northern California really does seem like a world apart from the disingenuous nature of Southern California. Everything seems to me as it should be. You are hard pressed to find the expanses of pavement, skyscrapers are replaced by massive redwoods; avenues and freeways by streams, creeks, and rivers. The only real pavement I recall was the road we were on, US-101N. There was a bit of lost glory still in those trees. It was a little of the land that time forgot and was a happier place for it. The area reminds me of a friendly old neighbor. He enjoys his peace, but welcomes others with open arms.
Crossing the boarder into Oregon was somewhat lacking in its excitement. I was welcomed to my new state with a green sign that read simply "Entering Oregon". But while the fanfare of crossing this line seemed mundane, the significance of it could not be overstated. I was leaving behind the only state that I had ever called home.It had been good to me for twenty-eight years. But it was time to shed that skin.
I focused on the fact that I would once again be reunited with my family. It had been a little over a month since I last saw them in the flesh. While the aid of video chatting eased the suffering a bit, there was still no comparison to the real thing. Any decent father will tell you that little matches the feeling of their son or daughter running across a yard as fast as their legs will take them, the ultimate goal being the arms of a parent they hadn't seen in what seems to them an eternity.
We stopped in a small town just on the other side of the border, Cave Junction, for drinks and gas. I had to remind my mom that we were now in Oregon and, that being the case, we were forbidden from pumping our own gas. It was a reflex that I have since come to part. In its place is the waiting in the car for someone to pump gas only to realize that you are in Washington where such things don't happen. It may seems strange to those not accustomed to this area, but the fact is that you are not allowed to pump your own gas in the state of Oregon. It is against the law. Gas stations hire attendants to pump the gas which in turn creates jobs. It's a small bit of stimulus, but it's better than nothing. I am sure that those stations have provided jobs go people that would otherwise still be hunting for gainful employment.
Before we knew it we were through Grant's Pass and headed North on I-5. This part of the trip was mostly a blur. My mind was on getting to my family before sun down and little else. I was going to do everything in my power. But the sun was beginning to set and both my mom and I were getting weary. We had been on the road since 9 that morning and took very little time for breaks and food. Our perseverance was beginning to get the better of us. All we could do is push on and hope we make it.

Rolling Hills RV Park, NOT Recommended

While Cody works on the next installment of what led to where we are now, I will review the parks we've been to. I will only review a park after we've left it for our safety.

The first park we went to was a Rolling Hills RV Park. Being one of the few RV parks in the area not affiliated with Good Sam Club (the AAA of the RV world) should have told us something.

As far as pricing goes, it's middle of the road. It's convenient to bus lines, but four or so miles to a grocery store. That's really all the good I can say about it. Despite designated quiet hours, I hear domestic verbal fights. It wasn't really that clean of a park. The 72 cable channels were more like 12. The internet was so poor and so rarely connected, despite being near the tower, that I'm convinced they chose the lowest prices package with the cheapest wireless router just to say there was free wi-fi. Many of the RV spots are visibly extremely uneven.

When we first arrived, and we followed the signs to the office. What we didn't realize is that the office was located in the mobile home park connected to the RV park, and the signs as very small. It really wasn't a location good for RVs. Good thing we had our car. We got signed in, pulled into our spot, hooked up, and soon wondered why we were still there (answer: we were paid for a week).

The last day we were there, which was a Saturday and when the office was closed, wasn't going to be our last day originally. Cody had work, so we were going to stay until his next day off to move the RV. I spoke with one of the managers, who happened to be in the spot next to us, about moving spots to one maybe with better internet and to stay though Wednesday. Well, we didn't get better internet. At about 2 in the afternoon the manager's wife, who is the other manager, knocked on the door and told me we had to leave the park for not talking to her about moving spots. Excuse me? Not only is the office closed on Saturdays, but I spoke with her husband. She got visibly angry when I told her that. She informed me she knew that, but I could have called her cell phone...for which I didn't have the number. It was clear at this point she was upset that I spoke to her husband instead of her. But fine, we were already dissatisfied with that park and were only staying until Cody had a day off. I let her know we'd move as soon as he got back from work at 10.

Well leave it to her to look up his cell number off our sign-in form to call and pester him, when she knew he was at work, about when he'd be back to move our RV out of there, playing stupid about knowing the time. Cody told me he said to her that I would have told her the time, and she backtracked and said she wanted to make sure we were still leaving.

I didn't wait for Cody to get back to unhook everything so we could drive out the moment he walked in the door. As soon as he did, we went just up the road to the Portland Fairview RV Park, and the difference was like night and day.

Another piece of pertinent information is that, to stay for a month, you must have a rig no older than 15 years, no exceptions, and pay for a back ground and credit check on every adult in the RV. This seems to be pretty standard in RV parks, but what strikes me as off about this is the managers' rig looked to be at least 30 years old, and many others looked like they could no longer move. So perhaps its 15 years or newer based on when you start staying by the month.

Cost: B-
Cable: C, reasons explained
Internet: D-, reasons explained
Amenities: Too inconveniently located to find
Noise: C, not too loud except for the RVs that had regular fights
Convenience to shopping by car: D, about four miles, and might be tricky to find by written directions
Convenience to shopping by foot: F, only a convenience store within walking distance
Convenience to public transit: A, right in front of the park
Management: F for failing to enforce quiet time, park cleanliness, communication with each other, and poor treatment of paying guests
Would we recommend to anyone else? Absolutely not.

An Opportunity Afforded (Part II)

Part II

My last photo of Santa Barbara, CA

The trip up the California coast was a moderately uneventful one. My mom joined me in my trek up the state. She provided some much needed company along with someone who could take the wheel. In all honesty, she did a majority of the driving. We got a later start than we would have liked -about 9am- and began our journey. 

The conversation along the way was mostly chit-chat. We didn't delve into any deep, philosophical discussions or get mired in politics or religion. We mostly recounted what had transpired over the past few months, trying to wrap our heads around going from a home with pool to relative uncertainty in a state I had only visited for about 24 hours prior to moving. 

To her credit, there was no question of if I was doing the right thing. She knew that what I was doing wasn't something that was necessarily in my control. Sure, we could have stayed in California and found a place and paid way obscene amounts for rent, as is the norm for Southern California but that wouldn't have made anyone happy. So, we (Aria and I) decided on Oregon. She grew up here so it seemed logical; at least one of us would be familiar with the area.

Many, I have a feeling, would have viewed the move as being forced out of their home-state. Honestly, that is how I viewed it for a period as well. But I knew that thinking like that would ultimately lead to me regretting my decision. I knew I would end hate Oregon because it would be the place I ended up after being forced, economically, out of the state I had called home for 28 year. I didn't even want to think of it as making the best out of a bad situation. This isn't how I wanted to start this chapter of my life, to use a cliché. I was honestly looking forward to a fresh beginning with new faces. I had to break that line of thought. So, I began to think of it as being afforded this fantastic opportunity to start anew. 

As my mom and I lumbered up the coast, we decided to stop for the night at a hotel in Humboldt. There was one room left and it was a handicapable. There was no real distinction of a regular vs. handicapable room besides the shower. There was no bath and just a drain on the floor that didn't quite let water out as fast as the shower had let it in. Before I realized what had happened, the bathroom floor flooded and water began to seep out into the sleeping area. I turned off the shower to let the water drain. The benefit to these rooms is that it seems the bathrooms were almost designed to flood. Nevertheless, I showered and crawled in bed for a good night's sleep. 

We woke early the next morning to partake of the hotel's Continental Breakfast offering. It was better than most, as I recall it. Fresh waffles, cereal, juice, milk, coffee, fruit along with various assorted pastries. There was a cat that lived in the hotel as well. A hotel cat seems to be just as common as the breakfast these days. Friendly, if a bit skittish. We packed in what we could of the free food, returned to the room, loaded our belongings, and headed out on the second leg of our journey. 

An Opportunity Afforded (Part I)

Part I

It wasn't so much a choice as a necessity that we find ourselves in a home with a V8. "The best laid plans of mice and men go oft awry". We thought we had it all figured out before we moved up here. We would stay with friends for a while until we had enough money saved up to rent our own place. Rent being relatively inexpensive here as compared to Southern California, we thought it would be a month at most. 

Aria and Charlotte went up to Oregon ahead of me while I worked on finalizing my transfer within the company. While we were waiting for the transfer to complete, which took several weeks, I jumped from bed to bed, staying at friends' houses or with my mom. I tried not to stay in one place for too long so as not to wear out my welcome. They were kind enough to put a roof over my head after all.

It was in these few weeks of separation, being unsure about my future, and not having a place to call my own that I realized something: I was homeless. One could argue that I would always have a home to go to with my mom and so was not truly homeless. However, by the strictest definition of the word, I was homeless. We all were to a degree. We were at out lowest low. 

The good news finally came that my transfer had gone through. My new store liked what I had to say and needed my help and my old store was more than happy to let me pursue that. I was moving from a position that never fit quite right, like a shoe that was the right size but on the wrong foot, to a position that I was not only comfortable in but felt I could shine. I knew it would take a bit of re-learning but I had never entirely left the position, just changed a slight bit of my structure within it. With that, I gave my old store the customary two-week notice and prepared to move further from home than I had ever been before. 


Check back tomorrow for Part II