Leaving Utah for the West Coast: We're Hungry...Let's Go Left

On Sunday morning we bid the Mayer clan adieu and headed toward Reno. The map suggested that we would be in the desert but it didn't feel like we ever quite left the mountains. Though we drove on the flat for the majority of the day we were still surrounded by craggy hills, some with snow topped peaks, all the way till our stop a Lassen Volcanic National Park in Northern California. Fuel prices soared the further left we went. We stopped at a little hole in central Nevada, lots of gambling, not so many teeth, that wanted $5.85 a gallon for diesel. We didn't fuel up there. We found some for $5.05. Glad we did too.

As we entered California we had to stop at an Agricultural Inspection Station. They we're worried that we might be smuggling oranges back into Cali. They were also more than a little concerned that we might be harboring Gypsy Moth fugitives in our camper. Apparently Maine is a breeding ground for civil and agricultural disobedience.

We wound our way through the mountains toward Lassen passing super quaint little towns with low populations (my favorite kind of town) and fueling stations with prices under $6 a gallon. We got to the park gates a tad low on fuel (I take fuel responsibility for this as I assumed that we would see another fuel station in the next day) at a scoche under a quarter tank. Wouldn't you know that we had to climb Lassen mountain to get to our camp site. By the time we parked Biesel (our beloved Dodge 2500 truck) her computer showed that we had 28 miles of fuel left. We were at least 30 miles from any town that might have a diesel pump. Not very good expedition etiquette. I now truly understand why real expedition folks carry a few jerry cans of fuel with them.

We bunked for the night and rose to take a five mile hike to Echo Lake, which was so much fun for the girls since we live right near Echo Lake in Mount Vernon. Lots of uphill, lots of dust and rocks, so many dragonflies that I thought my heart might burst with joy, incredible vistas, and lots of tinkle. The girls each have their own camel pack with water for hikes. Sara tends to drink a sip for each step or so even though she doesn't seem to really sweat any of it out. Inevitably she needs to piddle every five to ten minutes. She and her mother have the squat system all worked out. I guess we are just glad that she doesn't eat a prune for each step or so.

On the hike we encountered the rare and introverted tree dragon. We came upon her slowly and managed to convince her that she might enjoy spending some quality time with two young humans. She eventually came around to our thinking and took each of the girls for a short flight around the lake. After our hike we broke camp and cautiously and conservatively headed out of the park. Biesel's computer changed our potential mileage every few feet making the drive ever so interesting. Our only saving grace was that since we had climbed the range the day before most of our exit was to be down hill. By the time we reached the ranger station that had been rumored to have fuel (gas only as it turns out), we had a range of 17 miles. It was 17 miles to Shingletown and the nearest diesel pumps. Dun, Dun, Dun!!! Would they make it?... Would our intrepid travelers need to flag down assistance?... Would Biesel roll into town on fumes?... Would the fuel station also carry locally brewed organic beer?... Tune in next time for:Shingletown, Arcata, the Repetitive Stress Driving Course, Banana Slugs, and Really Big Stumps.