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Let's just do a brief status post, shall we?
My mom decided to be really nervous on my behalf about the leg of this trip that went through Grants Pass. However, as it turns out, as happens among people in many instances, I think her concerns wound up being misplaced. It's still early enough in the year that the chances of encountering snowfall are pretty low, and there actually wasn't major precipitation at all yesterday through the passes. Also, although the trailer adds *some* load to the car, it isn't so much that it greatly affects the car's handling on the climbs or descents.
Instead, the more harrowing aspect of the trip was just dealing with California drivers as soon as I crossed the border from Oregon into CA.
The trailer manual sets an upper speed limit of 60 mph for towing the trailer, so that's what I stuck with through Washington and Oregon. I hardly had to pass any other vehicles at all. As the saying goes, as it turns out, life in the slow lane is pretty great - relaxing, almost. In California, however, the speed limit for vehicles that are towing is 55 mph. But the interstate speed limits are often 70-75 mph. So that creates a larger speed differential. The larger speed differential came along with sections of interstate that were 3 lanes instead of two, and then there were drivers moving at all sorts of variable speeds weaving around everywhere across all of the lanes. I can't fully articulate it but it's a different type of asshole driving than New York or Chicago asshole driving (which are certainly also stressful and dangerous). So I had one point where I tried to change lanes to pass a couple of semi's going uphill and must be grateful that the speeding green Subaru driver saw me.
Anyway. As the subject line suggests, we did make it to S's sailboat, and I only had to make one U-turn out in the boonies between Sacramento and Isleton. Let us now speak no more of that part of the drive.
I haven't gone over yet in the daylight to see how the boat fared through the more bumpy pavement towards the end, but all told I'm kind of glad I only got partially through the varnishing stage because it would be disappointing to think I'd finished and then see that I have extra work to do (which I am pretty certain is what I'll discover). So as it stands there will very likely be some touch-up work, but also the opportunity to learn from the wear patterns for the sake of preparing for the longer cross-country drive in December. That's one of the things I'd hoped to accomplish with this leg of traveling.
So far I think the cats liked my Aunt B's house in Corvallis far better than they like being on the sailboat, but they're coping. Shortly after I opened the door to the cockpit to let Martha explore outside, a motorcycle roared past. So instead of sitting out in the cockpit to sun herself and watch birds, she's found a place to nestle herself deep inside a dark, snug cubby up in the bow past the boat's engine. George, meanwhile, is sitting on a bench in his fuzzy orange dish, but in a state of moderate alert, ready to dive in the cubby with Martha as necessary. They really are very noise sensitive cats, which I can appreciate as a survival instinct. My Aunt B's house was *quiet* and they seemed to enjoy exploring it much more readily than my mom's house. One of the differences there is my mom's house has creaky floors, but my Aunt B's house doesn't have a basement at all.
It's probably going to be a few more days before I post more photos.
My mom decided to be really nervous on my behalf about the leg of this trip that went through Grants Pass. However, as it turns out, as happens among people in many instances, I think her concerns wound up being misplaced. It's still early enough in the year that the chances of encountering snowfall are pretty low, and there actually wasn't major precipitation at all yesterday through the passes. Also, although the trailer adds *some* load to the car, it isn't so much that it greatly affects the car's handling on the climbs or descents.
Instead, the more harrowing aspect of the trip was just dealing with California drivers as soon as I crossed the border from Oregon into CA.
The trailer manual sets an upper speed limit of 60 mph for towing the trailer, so that's what I stuck with through Washington and Oregon. I hardly had to pass any other vehicles at all. As the saying goes, as it turns out, life in the slow lane is pretty great - relaxing, almost. In California, however, the speed limit for vehicles that are towing is 55 mph. But the interstate speed limits are often 70-75 mph. So that creates a larger speed differential. The larger speed differential came along with sections of interstate that were 3 lanes instead of two, and then there were drivers moving at all sorts of variable speeds weaving around everywhere across all of the lanes. I can't fully articulate it but it's a different type of asshole driving than New York or Chicago asshole driving (which are certainly also stressful and dangerous). So I had one point where I tried to change lanes to pass a couple of semi's going uphill and must be grateful that the speeding green Subaru driver saw me.
Anyway. As the subject line suggests, we did make it to S's sailboat, and I only had to make one U-turn out in the boonies between Sacramento and Isleton. Let us now speak no more of that part of the drive.
I haven't gone over yet in the daylight to see how the boat fared through the more bumpy pavement towards the end, but all told I'm kind of glad I only got partially through the varnishing stage because it would be disappointing to think I'd finished and then see that I have extra work to do (which I am pretty certain is what I'll discover). So as it stands there will very likely be some touch-up work, but also the opportunity to learn from the wear patterns for the sake of preparing for the longer cross-country drive in December. That's one of the things I'd hoped to accomplish with this leg of traveling.
So far I think the cats liked my Aunt B's house in Corvallis far better than they like being on the sailboat, but they're coping. Shortly after I opened the door to the cockpit to let Martha explore outside, a motorcycle roared past. So instead of sitting out in the cockpit to sun herself and watch birds, she's found a place to nestle herself deep inside a dark, snug cubby up in the bow past the boat's engine. George, meanwhile, is sitting on a bench in his fuzzy orange dish, but in a state of moderate alert, ready to dive in the cubby with Martha as necessary. They really are very noise sensitive cats, which I can appreciate as a survival instinct. My Aunt B's house was *quiet* and they seemed to enjoy exploring it much more readily than my mom's house. One of the differences there is my mom's house has creaky floors, but my Aunt B's house doesn't have a basement at all.
It's probably going to be a few more days before I post more photos.
