Hola amigos--I know it has been a few days. I have not had Internet access until now since entering Mexico. I´m also typing on a Spanish keyboard, so please excuse any typos. Adding to the confusion, I found this computer in a bar near our campground, and I must keep drinking for as long as I use it.

We entered Mexico on Sunday after getting a full orientation from our wagonmasters, Phil and Sue. The trailers all exited the Chula Vista KOA in a row, calling out our numbers on the CB as we exited. These are all good people, and we really enjoyed getting to know them at our pizza party on Saturday night before taking off on Sunday in the early hours. Grandma and I used some of our downtime to go shopping (Wal-Mart) and to get her hair done. She continues to use the terms ¨beauty shop¨ and ¨beauty operator¨ in place of salon and hairdresser, despite my admonitions. (Beer no. 2) The salon was run by a very overworked Asian women who had several streak jobs, pedicures, manicures, and eyebrow waxings going on at once, and Grandma had a hard time getting her hair taken care of for a reasonable price, despite bringing in her own color (a fact she has reminded me of many times). When it was done, the "beauty operator" wanted $80, which Grandma found completely unreasonable, so she handed her $25 and left. We may have outstanding warrants for our arrest in California.

After crossing into Tijuana we immediately took a wrong turn, following the RV in front of us right into a sketchy neighborhood. It was a bad first step. I was the only one brave or stupid enough to get out of my rig and ask directions, and my limited Spanish was enough to get us back on the right road. I was the hero for the day and was toasted later at our drivers' meeting. I feared because of my inexperience I would be a complete disaster and a real pain for all of the experienced RVers. I have been a disaster as far as pulling a trailer goes (no wrecks yet!). But because only one other person speaks any Spanish I have a much sought-after skill.

We stopped for lunch across from a roadside stand, which I was warned to avoid. Sarah and I wandered across the highway, smelled the food, I was starving and couldn´t resist. We ordered the only item on the menu, coctel de almejas, or clam cocktail, which was filled with smoked clams, tomatoes, onions and cilantro in a hot broth. It was delicious. Three days later, I´m still not sick. That was my first indiscretion as far as the food and water restrictions doled out by our wagonmasters. There are more to follow.

We pulled into Vicente Guerrero, our first stop, sometime after 4 p.m. and enjoyed a nice dinner at the restaurant on the campground. We were seated with Ailsa and Ken, a couple who has been married for 65 years. They are so cute. Nothing much else to report from that stop, except that the beach was farther away than I thought and Sarah had to deal with only one dip into the ocean (at a rest stop earlier in the day). (Beer no. 3)

We were on the road very early for Bahia de Los Angeles, where we were promised much closer beach access and lots of fish. Both turned out to be true. We were a block from the beach, close to a fisherman´s dock, and had a stocked mercado close by. After fully settling in on the first night, we met fast friends Bob and Mary Lou from Ontario, who have since become our travelmates. We are among enormous motorhomes, and Bob and Mary Lou and our bunch are the only ones in trailers. They have something called a Prowler, which is very nice and comfortable and longer than our trailer. Bob is very organized and has given me good advice on dealing with a number of issues. When we were about out of gas (gas stations are too rare down here), and later propane (also rare), Bob took the lead on getting us some help.

The day after our arrival, it was my assigned task to acquire lobsters (or langostas) from the local fisherman, which we had heard could come for a very low price but were illegal to fish off Baja. It required some delicate negotiation, which I was incapable of, and I came away empty. But I did meet a bunch of fisherman from the U.S. with a place in BLA who told us to come over and get some fish. Bob and I drove over and they gave us a few cabrilla (white fish) no charge, which was our dinner. Mary Lou grilled them and they were delicious. Grandma and I brought some strawberries we found, unbelievably big, and made shortcake. We all later came to know Smitty, Herman, John Patrick, Nick, George and the other fisher guys who holiday in Baja, fish and drink (mostly drink). They have a sweet place with a chef´s kitchen, and I´d love to go back and spend a few days.

On Tuesday Smitty hooked us up with a local fisherman to go out sea fishing. Bob and Mary Lou, Grandma and I got up at the crack of dawn and headed on a very small boat called Isabel with the local fisher god´s son Juan, and he took us through several off-shore islands to fish. The fish were biting in the early hours but slackened off. We were out for four hours. We landed 30 keepers, which amounted to 14 lbs. filleted, of ling cod and sea bass. We also caught a few scorpion fish, bright red and spiny, which are dangerous to touch but allegedly good eating. We threw several back to the pelican named Roberto that followed us throughout, and he gulped them in one swallow. All except the scorpion fish, which he was smart enough to avoid.

We spent two nights and three days in Bahia de Los Angeles and drove south today to San Ignacico, where we are tonight. We crossed into the state of Baja Sur or south Baja and went through an extensive search. Our oranges were confiscated but that was about it, except for a spraying of pesticide to the undercarriages of the truck and trailer which has left us very stinky inside. Tonight we are in a nice camp here with a good restaurant nearby, where we enjoyed dinner. And now I am in the bar, starting Beer No. 4, and needing to go to bed. I didn´t know we would change time zones, but we did today and lost an hour.

I will report more and post pictures from our fishing trip as soon as I can. Tomorrow we visit a local mission and then we are on the beach dry-camping for the next four days, so don´t expect much until next week. I miss you all. Bill.

We awoke to sunny skies and a full itinerary today. We were greeted by Phil the wagonmaster at 8 a.m. (I was still in bed.) He had our visa applications and gave us instructions for filling them out. After I had woken up a bit we got down to business and did our paperwork, our laundry, and our shopping. We even found time to take Grandma to a salon to gussy up and swung through Wal-Mart to pick me up some plastic sandals for the shower. (Grandma is quite concerned about me developing athlete's foot.)

We convened with our fellow travelers at 5 p.m. for a pizza party and our orientation for the trip. Phil, his wife Sue, and Dean and Cheryl our tailgunners (they leave no camper behind) got us up to speed on the peculiarities of Mexican road signs, the border crossing, how to manage our water supply and what to avoid in the food department. All of the couples, and they are all couples, introduced themselves. All but one are retired, most are veteran RVers of many years, and many are "full timers." Lots of Canadians. Grandma and I kept our introduction brief, but I did point out that I had been an RVer for just five days. That remark drew a little nervous laughter. I expect they think I'm going to be a real pain.

We depart tomorrow at 8 a.m. for our border crossing, and then drive about 185 miles before our first stop in Vicente Guererro. I have no idea from here how often I'll have Internet access, but I'll give you updates whenever I can.

Hasta luego, Guillermo.

(I was never a truck person. Until now.)

It was a hard day of driving today. Fourteen hours total, but that puts me ahead of myself. We left Stockton at about 8:10. Grandma had some oatmeal, but I skipped breakfast altogether. I showered in their facilities and for the second time this trip forgot a towel and had to dry myself with yesterday's blue jeans. If you're ever in a pinch, denim is surprisingly absorbent.

Our early morning drive was uneventful. Flat, straight roads through farmland in the Central Valley. The precision of the planting fascinated Grandma to no end. Rows of trees running straight whichever way you looked at them, kind of dizzying if you stare too long. I lost interest after about the third orchard.

I forgot to mention that yesterday I got pulled over by California's finest going 70 in a 55 zone. Seventy is the legal limit for cars, but the truckers and autos with trailers have to keep it to 55. The nice officer let me off with a verbal warning--wish I had caught his name. But I need to register this editorial comment: 15 miles an hour difference between motor vehicle classes is a hazard, California. Please rethink that. Also please consider doing something about your roads. I have driven washed out dirt roads in Kansas far smoother than I-5 in downtown L.A.

But since I'd been given a warning, after leaving Stockton I drove for several hours at 55 mph. I swear, I did not pass one car the entire way. Women my grandma's age were leaving us in the dust. By the time I reached Tejon pass, I had become a scofflaw again and gradually notched it up to 64.

We hit rain, fog and crappy highway right about Tejon, all of which continued through L.A. and until our arrival in Chula Vista. One of the requirements of our trip is that we have a CB radio, and during our three-hour passage through L.A. in stop-and-go (I am not exaggerating) the CB made for some good entertainment. The FCC would have very little concern about Janet Jackson's nipple had they been tuned in to Channel 19 during those three hours. I can curse a blue streak, but the truckers have raised it to an art form.

We finally stopped for supper at Denny's south of L.A. at about 8:30 after skipping lunch. Grandma has to eat about every three hours, but I got her by on those orange crackers with peanut butter for the bulk of the day. We had a nice meal and fortified ourselves while it was raining buckets outside. Sarah, who hates rainstorms, stayed in the car and was not terribly freaked out when we returned. She is such a good dog. (You people reading, please don't talk smack about Denny's. My grilled chicken dinner was pretty tasty and a good value at $7.00.)

After Denny's we filled up with gas, and when pulling away I heard a terrible groaning noise from the trailer. At first I thought it was a motorcycle going by but then realized it was coming from us. I checked out the rig and saw that our cable that leads to the emergency brakes on the trailer was severed. Thank heavens the gas station had electrical tape and I was able to make a repair on the spot. Unfortunately, it did not fix the noise. We were already on the on-ramp to I-5 and I pulled over, fearing that the trailer brakes were dragging and I would burn them out. I called Phil, the wagonmaster for our RV caravan, and talked it over. He gave some complicated directions, but essentially told me to drive to the next exit and feel the trailer's wheel hubs for heat, which would be an indication that the brakes were screwed up. I did so, no heat, the brakes appeared fine.

It sounded like something was wrong with the hitch so I checked that out during the stop. I discovered that the sway bar had gotten off kilter and the noise was metal rubbing against metal. I adjusted the pins and tension, got in, drove a few feet, and the awful sound was gone.

At about 11:00, we pulled into our destination. Phil stayed up and met us at the entrance of the KOA here in Chula Vista. After doing our paperwork with their very talkative caretaker George, Phil kindly drove us to our spot and backed the trailer in for me. I think he will take good care of us on the trip.

That's about enough for today. Grandma and Sarah are sleeping, and I soon need to do the same. I'm going to enjoy one last swig of rum from the bottle my friend Jane brought back from Costa Rica and turn in. So please blame any incoherence in this message on Jane. Tomorrow is our orientation for the trip, and we will meet our fellow travelgoers.

Buenos noches, Bill.

We moved today. I have a crappy Internet connection tonight, so I won't report much, and can't post any images. We made it out of Rising River RV Park in the early morning, had beautiful views of Mt. Shasta, olive orchards, and several steep climbs in the early hours. Multiple sightings of herons and other birds, and a picturesque scene of sheep in a place aptly named "Sunny Valley," with one black lamb among the herd. I'm getting pretty confident pulling the trailer, and the truck is more than up to the task.

I want to recommend Bartel's Giant Burger in Concord, CA for the best hamburger I have ever eaten. I am still thinking about it. They also keep a water bowl for dogs behind the counter and I was able to give Sarah a big drink. We are in a lovely RV park tonight in Stockton with views of a river and ships passing by. Bill, the caretaker, is cool, and drives a blue golf cart around to check on his guests. I managed my first back-in without too many tries (okay, there were four). Our dinner was homemade and simple but satifying--ham and cheese sandwiches and a small salad. We're headed to bed early tonight because we have to pull it all the way to Chula Vista by tomorrow evening. That means L.A. at noontime. There should be t-shirts for navigating L.A. pulling a trailer during rush hour.

Thanks for all your good thoughts. Something pulled us through this far beyond sheer will. I think now we've got it made.

Bill.

(Sarah's dream of Baja)

I don't know how to explain this day. Grandma and I had a great night in Roseburg at the Rising River RV Park. They have the nicest shower rooms that practically turn into a sauna after a few minutes. We had eggs and sausage for breakfast. Grandma makes the greatest breakfasts.

I filled the water tank on the Airstream and we got in the Land Rover with our fingers crossed that our driving would be as uneventful as yesterday afternoon. There are some serious mountains south of here and all was going well for about 45 miles, even with the tanks full. Then the beep, which comes with a warning not to drive over 30 miles an hour. Try driving 30 miles an hour on I-5 when trucks are screaming by you with loads of logs on the back. It's scary as hell. We pulled off at the next intersection, which turned out to be one of those off-but-not-on exits go in our direction, and took a little country road for a mile or so before we could find a place to pull off. Remembering what Scott at Land Rover Portland told me yesterday, I adjusted the weight distribution hitch up one link on the chain and took a little more load off the hitch. We drove another mile or so before we found a place to turn around. Thanks to those people in the little shack with the scary dog and what seemed like a million cats for letting us trespass without pulling out a shotgun.

We had to head back north to the next exit for a turnaround. My adjustment did not work. The beep came again and again, and on a particularly steep rise the back of the Rover started bucking. So we got off at the next exit and knew we had to dump the water. We had traveled safely without water yesterday and thought we could do the same empty, also knowing that we would be expected to be full of water on entry to Mexico. I called Adventure Caravans, the leaders of our RV tour through Baja, and explained the situation. Ron told me that the leaders of the tour would help me with the water and get us through safely if we could just get there. Grandma was reluctant, but we dumped water anyway, and resumed our trip south.

It was only minutes before the beep came again. I told Grandma, that's it, our trip is over. She said yes, and how sorry she was for me. The suspension would soon overheat and we would be stuck again waiting for it to cool down, and who knew how long it would be before it would give out altogether. We need to be in Chula Vista by Friday and that was no way to get there. I also had put our safety first. So we found the next exit, turned around, and found the next rest stop to let the suspension cool. I took Sarah for a little walk, found the pop machine for a diet Coke, and spent those few minutes feeling really sad. I thought about heading back to Seattle without completing this trip after all I had done to plan it and the sacrifices to make it come true. I also thought about the experiences I would miss with Grandma and Sarah.

After about 20 minutes we hit the road north to Seattle again, and before long another beep. We were nearing Canyon City and it was about 11:30, so we decided to stop for an early lunch and let the suspension cool thoroughly before moving on. After a little maneuvering we found a place to park and headed toward the Canyon City Cafe. As we were crossing the street a Ford pick-up pulled out, and to my amazement four large men stepped out of it. I had no idea a pick-up could hold that many people. One of them was wearing a University of Michigan jacket, my graduate school.

We sat down and had a really nice lunch. Large salads and sandwiches. The waitress was sassy in the best possible way. I wasn't feeling better about anything, but it was a nice distraction. I was just worried about getting us home.

Then I made what some of you may think is a crazy decision. I bought my Land Rover specifically so I could pull a trailer and it wasn't doing the job. If we made it back to Seattle, I'd have to sell the trailer or buy a different vehicle that could deal with it. And there I'd be with this trip a lost opportunity. So I told Grandma I was going to the bathroom and went to the guy in the Michigan jacket and asked him where he got his Ford. Roseburg, he said. I asked him whether they gave him a good deal. Yep. He wasn't much of a talker.

I went back to the table and told Grandma what I had decided. I was going to stop in Roseburg to buy a pick-up, and we were not giving up on this trip. She looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind. Probably I have lost my mind. I will save you all the details of my experience at Lithia Ford in Roseburg, except to say that Cory is an honest salesperson and and a stand up guy. Grandma had advised not to tell them my situation, otherwise I'd be in a terrible bargaining position. But I had blurted it out within minutes of talking to Cory. After looking at several models and talking to my Dad a few times on the phone (Dad drives the big rigs and knows about these things), I settled on a half-ton F-150 in silver to match the Airstream. They couldn't give me much of a price on the Rover but offered to keep it for me until I can retrieve it and either sell it privately in Seattle or keep it and have the truck as a second vehicle. I don't know yet how I'm going to handle that situation, but for the time being I'm not worrying about it. Cory did everything possible to help me, including figuring out how to complete some paperwork I'd need at the border.

SORRY for this long post, but wanted you all to know what a dramatic day it was. We are back at the Rising River RV park, I have a new truck that by-golly better pull this damn trailer to Mexico, and we'll get somehow get there in two days to rendezvous with our caravan. If you are the praying kind, please put in a request. Either for my sanity or that we make this trip. Take you pick.

I'll post a picture of the new truck tomorrow when there is daylight.

Miss you all, Bill.

(Nighttime view of my new and complicated hitch)

I was this close today to turning the rig around and heading back to Seattle. After installing the weight distribution hitch at Camper World, we got back on I-5 heading south. Within miles, the same warning appeared just after I passed my favorite outlet mall on the planet (the one with the Banana Republic). My suspension was failing. Grandma and I stopped at McDonalds for breakfast and took a few minutes to gather our thoughts. I knew I needed to take the Land Rover in for service, but after making a few calls I found there was no dealership to the south until California. So it was 30 miles back to the Portland dealership for a checkup.

If this trip goes off without a hitch (thank you Ty), it will be due to the good folks at Land Rover Portland. They fit me into an already full garage, checked out my LR3, which was fine, and could have left it there and turned me away. But the shop foreman Scott walked down with me to the Airstream (which I had parked illegally in front of a drape shop--much to the freely expressed annoyance of the owner), helped me hook it up, adjusted the hitch, adjusted the weight control bars that had just this morning been installed, and gave me a bunch of other good tips. Scott tows huge trailers and knows his stuff. It was 3:30 before we finally got in the rig, and there was a moment where Grandma and I needed to decide whether to take the exit north and head home for safety or head south and resume the trip. I told her, let's give it a try, we've both put too much in already to just give up, and if we have the problem again we'll turn it around. We were just waiting for the scary beep.

We drove three solid hours, over some serious hills, and through rough construction. Not one beep. Tonight we're in Roseburg, and tomorrow we plan to head out early and make up time. I need to do one last test--fill the water tanks full and see if the Rover can take the weight. We will need to be full of fresh water when we cross the border, and if we can't handle the load we'll need to turn back or figure out something else to adjust.

I want to thank Scott, Ted, Josh, Bjorn and everyone at Land Rover Portland for all their help and the good people at Camper World in Wilsonville for fitting us in first thing in the a.m. Also gotta give props to Grandma for hanging in with me for two tough days. Tomorrow, we hope, will be smooth sailing.

Good night, Bill.

I hope tomorrow is a better day. We are having trouble with my car's suspension system overheating and had to stop just south of Portland. It appears that there is too much weight on the hitch and, despite my efforts to redistribute weight to the back of the trailer, we are still having problems. So tomorrow it's off to Camper World in Wilsonville for a check on the situation and perhaps to install a weight distribution hitch.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Hello friends--

This journey was a long time coming. I grew up in Kansas. It's a nice state, a little red for my taste, but anyway. The mainstay in my early life, besides the animals I grew up alongside there on the farm, was my family. There are Billie and Larry, my parents. My brother Troy, and later brothers Tom and Ken. All of us are grown now, and Tom has a little baby just a few weeks old.

Also important to me were my grandparents. On my mom's side, there were my Grandmother Mable and Grandfather Bill--I called him Poppo. These two were the travelers in the family and set off on trips with their camper loaded in the back of their pickup truck. No destinations were terribly exotic. The Ozarks. Arkansas a few times. I think once they even made it to the West Coast. Most trips were to the close-by lakes (or reservoirs as we know them back home, a word that has taken on different meaning in the Northwest). Boating, fishing, water skiing, playing cards and making new friends. Troy and I would join them on some trips. They were tight quarters with the four of us. In that camper was where I first learned I talk in my sleep. But they were joyful times, and something I have always wanted to replicate.

Tomorow I'm taking it full circle. Grandma Mable and I are embarking on a trip southward to Mexico pulling an Airstream trailer. Also coming along is my dog Sarah. I have some nervousness about pulling a trailer down the whole stretch of I-5 from Seattle to Chula Vista, and then further southward to land's end. Give me a few miles and I"ll probably get over it. As my friend Chris said tonight, just take care of your girls and you'll be fine. She's always got the best advice.

I hope along the way to have interesting adventures to share, maybe photos, and some Internet access to share them by. I don't know what's ahead. But if you have checked in to this site, know that I miss you and wish us safe travels.

Last thing. Tonight, my very best friends joined in a celebration of our adventure. I love them all. Thank you for being a part of my life and getting me off safely on this journey. I'll miss you.

Bill.