Well crap. Sorry it has been so long since my last update. Tonight we are camped in Williams, Arizona, very near the Grand Canyon and on old Route 66. It is 29 degrees and there is snow on the ground. What a contrast from several days ago in Cabo.

So last time we spoke I was getting chummy with the whales of Guerrero Negro and spying osprey. In the meanwhile I have been fighting with my computer and spent several hours in an Internet cafe trying to get the last post to come through. Thankfully it did.

We departed Guerrero Negro on Friday morning for Catavina, a stop in the high desert of Baja California. It was our fourth day of dry camping (no water, no electricity, no nothing). Despite the lack of ameneties, we circled our trailers around a couple of mesquite trees in the middle of the campground and had a blast. I played and lost my first ever game of bocce ball teamed with Bev, another of the Canadians. George of Texas and Ted, Bev's husband, trailed us miserably in the early going but staged a valiant comeback after Bev and I got cocky. In addition there was a game called Arizona Gold, which involves two stands made of PVC pipe, two sets of golf balls joined with string, and precise hand-eye control. I avoided that one, having played earlier on the trip and discovering it was not my forte.

The group put together a spread of appetizers at about 4 p.m. that served as dinner, and the drinks flowed freely. By nightfall we joined around a campfire, told incredibly dirty jokes, and (thank you Chris) made a delicacy called "pudgy pies." My peanut butter and jelly version was a big hit.

I awoke early and hiked off into the desert to take some photographs of the many cactuses (I am not snooty enough to type cacti) that grow here. I startled a local variety of jackrabbit, which has a black rump and ears, and briefly lost my bearings. (Bobby? Cindy?)

We drove for what seemed an eternity to Ensenada, our last stop before crossing over the border. We stayed at an unbelievably nice camp with hot showers, a heated swimming pool, tennis courts, and right on the bay. Also the first time we had seen grass in several weeks. Grass must preserve the doggie smells better than sand and grit, and Sarah was in heaven.

I experienced my first accident of the trip going into the park when I backed over a water spigot and started off a geyser. After getting thoroughly soaked trying to trim and jam a cork in it, I finally listened to Grandma's advice and used a rag and one of Bob's ground spikes, which resolved the problem immediately.

We had an tour of the city the following day. We first visited the local convention center, which has experienced many lives--first as a private home, then as a casino, then abandoned, then as a government building, and now open for public use. It houses the bar that invented the margarita in 1948, named after Margarita King, the woman who owned the casino and was later screwed out of it by her lawyer husband. (I'm only stating the facts.) There was a regatta in the bay and she enlisted her bartender to create something special for the sailors, and the margarita was born.

We also traveled to La Bufadora, one of the three largest blowholes in the world. Being afraid of heights I couldn't really enjoy the view from 30 stories up down to the ocean, but I did get some shaky pictures and quickly moved on for some fantastic shopping in the flea market nearby. In addition to making some good buys I watched a local artist working who painted landscape scenes entirely with her fingers and ate my fill of shrimp tacos for the umpteenth time on the trip. On the way back we stopped at an olive stand olives and olive oil, and at another stand for corn cocktails, a spicy local delight that I only enjoyed going down.

The following morning I had to take a very itchy Sarah for a bath. I could find no fleas, but dirt, saltwater and the dry air have made her a mess. (Postscript: she is fine now.) Later Grandma and I joined Bob and Mary Lou, Don and Patricia, and Dick Kelly (called Kelly) and Jackie of Nevada for some more shopping in downtown Ensenada. We arrived back in time for our last driver's meeting and for our farewell dinner, an affair during which I spent most of my time teary eyed. This trip has had an element of summer camp about it. A short time in relative terms, but the exposure to one another has been intense, and we have forged friendships that I hope will be lasting.

The following morning, after a couple hours of nervous waiting in line, we crossed the border almost without incident. (I did have a plum confiscated.) Afterward we stopped for one last night in El Centro, California, with our travelmates Bob and Mary Lou and Don and Patricia. After an interminable slideshow of Bob's photos, we had a nice dinner with the latter couple's friends who winter there, and I was awake early the following morning to begin our preparations for the trek back. Grandma, Mary Lou, Patricia and I were up early, but Don and Bob took a while, and I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, so we hung around until everyone (Bob) was up.

My previous display of tears was nothing compared to this one. Bob and Mary Lou especially have been our companions on this trip, and Bob has taught me so much about RVing and mechanics. Mary Lou has looked after Grandma and has always brought us little gifts of food and fruit and necessities we were missing. I hope we cross paths again soon.

Today we drove through the beatiful Arizona desert, stopping in Quartzite for lunch. Quartzite is an outpost for snowbirds, and is almost entirely an RV camp. We also passed through military proving ground north of Yuma and saw some strange things in the sky. I dare not report on those otherwise you'll think I'm cuckoo.

Our roads are amazingly wide compared to those in Mexico and I am now trucking along confidently. We hope to be back in Kansas to visit with family by Friday evening or Saturday mid-day to spend time with family. Midweek Sarah and I will make the journey alone back to Seattle. That should give me some good time to adjust and prepare for reentry into the real world, and get my head back on straight. If we encounter anything dramatic I'll send word.

Othewise, this is number 14 (our rig number and CB call name on the trip), over and out.

Love,
Mable, Sarah and Bill.