Wow! It’s been eight days since I last made an attempt to communicate with you. You’d think my failure to do so would be because I have nothing interesting, or reasonable to share, but such is not the case. I’m gratified to know that during my absence many of you have visited the site pretty much every day and I was surprised to see that Brazil tops the list for non USA visits. Yes, there’s some little automatic counter on the web site that keeps track of visitors. Not who they are, but where they are from. It blows my mind that anyone reads the stuff I share, and it’s more mind-blowing (to me) that some people actually return to visit. The fact that folks from other countries drop by, more than once, is beyond belief.
So, thanks to folks in the following countries who spent a bit of their valuable time to drop by more than once: Brazil, Italy, India, Canada, United Kingdom, Australia, Colombia, Mexico, Indonesia, Turkey, Chile, Belgium, Germany, France, and Argentina.
Next time say “Hi”.
Now, what’s happened in the last 8 days? I believe I left you hanging with an offhand comment about “on our drive south”. One would think we were on a trip, or something. Well, that is truly the case. We drove to Southern California, Carlsbad, to be specific, because we recently heard that the San Andreas Fault is about to create havoc and break that part of California off into the Pacific Ocean. That’s not true, of course. We just go there once in a while so Diane can get her SoCal “fix”. It’s one of her favorite places in the world.
Our first night was spent in Dunsmuir, California which isn’t too far over the Oregon/California border. Just a little bit past the spot where the California Fruit Inspectors make all south bound travelers stop and lie about the fruit they aren’t supposed to have. We actually didn’t have to lie this time because we really didn’t have any in the truck. I don’t think.
Dunsmuir is a small town when viewed from the comfort of your vehicle as you fly by on the freeway. We’ve done that dozens of times of the years. Because of this Diane thought it might be interesting to see what lies beyond the visible layer we’re used to seeing. She booked a room at the Cedar Lodge Motel which, oddly enough, is part of that first, visible layer.
We arrived in the are in plenty of time to look around, so we did. It wasn’t our intention to do so immediately upon arrival, but a wrong 50/50 choice about which way to turn to get to the motel settled that for us. We went right at the first Dunsmuir exit, instead of left, and wound up driving down the left side of the freeway to the next exit, crossed the freeway, and drove back up the other side to our motel. Had we turned right instead, the motel is about two blocks down.
Once we got checked in, as the only occupants of the motel, we went down Dunsmuir Avenue in search of Yaks on the 5, the recommended place to eat. It’s a fancy hamburger joint that’s spendier that most, and better than rest, we were told. We can attest to that being an absolute truth, and worth every penny. The food is absolutely magnificent and we echo the recommendation.
On a sides note, I must admit that I once ate a yak burger and found it to be pretty good. It was in Washington state, not far from home. That doesn’t have anything to do with Yak’s on the 5, and they don’t serve yak meat. I don’t think. Perhaps they should.
We retired early so we could hit the road early the next morning. Next stop was NAS Lemoore, which is a little south of Fresno, CA. They have a very nice Navy Lodge that we’ve used previously that rivals any Hilton we’ve ever stayed in.
I’ll discuss the Dunsmuir to Lemoore leg of the trip tomorrow. If I remember. Perhaps my First Wife will remind me.
In addition to my foreign visitors, thanks, also, to all of you USA folks who account for thousands of visits to this site. I know you are probably related, or personal friends, and only visit to see what kind of stupid predicaments I’ve been in, or to find out which body part I’ve injured. I must admit that I, too, find that last part entertaining, a couple of days after the fact.