4/10/2013. - Day 15 - She'll be comin' round the mountain when she comes. Cali.

I understand you have legalized it, but really? Three exits seems a bit excessive...

(Just kidding. This is a sign for a town. But my inner 12 year old couldn't help it)

4/10/2013. - Day 15 - She'll be comin' round the mountain when she comes. Cali.

Of course, I leave Eugene much later in the morning than I plan to. My OCD causes me to repack my pickup every single time I take something out because otherwise things are just too disorganized--and I look like a vagrant living out of my car. Not good. I would at least hope to present as an organized vagrant.

Southern Oregon is pretty and green, with rolling hills
 that are reminiscent of Ireland. I have never been to
Ireland but in my mind it looks like this: lots of bright
green scenery, and lots of sheep. 

I finally hit the road, and it's raining again (that of course was a given) so I'm opting out of the scenic route and instead going with the highway. Sorry hippies, I know it's way too mainstream, but I can't handle any more exploring gone wrong. I'll go my own way in another less rainy region.

This route is still scenic, with tall stoic mountains, rolling hills, deep valleys, and winding roads. And it is a safer bet for not encountering weather related incidents.

Hydraulic lift attached the the tailgate.
Why didn't I think of that for the motorcycle!

Sorry Oregon, I will not be seeing you in all the old familiar
places. It just wasn't working out. It's not me, it's you.

The moment I cross the Oregon/California border, it is as if the heavens open up, the sun comes out, and the temperature ratchets up 20°. This of course causes me to grin like a crazy fool and dance as much as the room in the cab of the pickup allows. This drive through the rest of Oregon has been killing me with the clouds and rain and I am over the moon giddy about the sunshine to the point that I am willing to embarrass myself in front of other travelers.

Mountain Gate. Who doesn't want to live here!

The initial phase of the CA drive is near a beautiful town called Mountain Gate and after I drive through Redding. The scenery is absolutely stunning with crystal clear blue water, stunning red rock, and the greenest trees. The colors are amazing.

Upwards of 80°? --Windows DOWN!

The beautiful Mt. Shasta

Well now, this is exciting. :\

The drive starts to get long as I continue through Northern California. I start counting miles as the sun goes down and finally I am entering San Francisco. Signs for tolls start popping up which triggers some anxiety because this is unfamiliar territory. ND does not have tolls and I've had very limited exposure to them.

The night view of the city is pretty with the bridges lit up like Christmas trees. The nav in the Ford feels like working today so I have my computerized guide assisting me with directions to Union Square, my home for tonight. I will admit I am deeply skeptical of the neighborhood the closer I get to the hostel. I'm a pansy though so my flight or fight response kicks in at the slightest disturbance from the norm.

Finally I am at the hostel, or rather, outside the hostel. There appears to be a loading zone with three regular car spaces...funny thing is I forgot I have a full size pickup in the town of San Francisco, which I think roughly translates to "absence of parking" in the common tongue. Of course there is one car in the loading zone, in the middle of the three spaces which means I cannot possibly park there. I make three loops, cuss a few times, and whimper a bit because it's dark, I'm in unfamiliar territory, I'm hungry, and I'm afraid.

Finally there is a shift in the cars in the loading zone which results in a small amount of space in the loading zone. The bystanders outside the hostel assure me they will assist in parallel parking. There is no other option but to trust them, so they guide me. Nothing goes crunch so when they signal I am clear I emerge from the pickup surprised to find that my end gate is literally parked over the top of the micro car behind me, and there are slivers of space between my grill and the next guys bumper. Nice work random bystanders. I thank them heartily and head inside to find out where the real parking lot with huge flood lights and secure gates is. Nonexistent. The lovely gal inside informs me that they have a "deal" with the parking lot two blocks down the street. Now I'm terrified. She also informs me that I will be just fine walking back to the hostel. In the dark. Alone.

Again, I have no options so I'm off to the parking garage with the "deal". The staff member at the hostel told me it was about $20 a night for a car, and $25 a night for an "oversize" car, whatever that means. I pull up and the man outside considers the vehicle skeptically and then walks up and assures me, "no problem, we take care of this." Then he walks around my vehicle and becomes more skeptical and comments, "oh, the end gate is not up?" No. It is not. There is a motorcycle resting on it. He considers it further and assures me again, "This no problem. For you, only $40." Yes. Forty dollars. For one night. He clearly does not understand I am just a poor gypsy. I fork over the $40. He then requests the keys and asks me to get in the passenger side. I have no idea how he plans to park in this tiny parking garage. He begins up the ramp and I am grasping the door handle with white knuckles. He then proceeds to whip around the corner and begin backing up. I asked if he wanted me to get out and direct him but again, the reassurance, "No problem, we take care of it." He backs into the spot, gets out, and again his face is clouded with skepticism. He has backed the truck into a spot above and directly perpendicular to the ramp which we drove up to get into the garage, and the tail gate is thus hanging over the ramp and partially blocking the entrance to the garage. It seems I start off my days so optimistic and many times by nightfall I'm hungry and crabby and tired of hearing valets tell me "It's ok, ma'm, we take care of it." After again being reassured, I get my stuff and hand him the keys after he promises again that both the bike and the pickup are taken care of. I am too tired and too hungry to care, and I have insurance. I'm off to the hostel, hiking up the hill, alone, in the dark.

I find the hostel to be much like college--community bathroom, dorm room, bunk beds. This is alright, I can do this. I already did this, although that was 8 years ago. My OCD has worsened dramatically since then.

I begin to relax as I get to know the girls in my suite.  My roommates are extremely nice. Madelene is from Sweden and is studying business in LA. Fannie is also from Sweden and is here doing research for her social work degree. They are both very friendly and are planning to go on a walking tour in the morning. This sounds like a great opportunity to see the sights, get some exercise and make new friends. Comforted and safe, I'm off to bed now so I can be ready for new adventures tomorrow!