On to Coquille, Circus Travels 2

From San Francisco, we headed north over the Baybridge toward Vacaville, and on to Redding, where we met George and his girlfriend, Eva, who had driven up with him from Los Angeles.

We had  planned to spend the next day being tourists, but were awakened early by the sounds of a hard rain pounding on the roof of our motorhome. It continued all morning, and finally, around noon, did turn into a beautiful day. We went out to Shasta Lake, and saw that the rain had done little to alleviate the effects of the drought that had been afflicting California that year. It was very low, with twenty feet of exposed dirt above it, a depressing sight.

We wandered out west of town and found a lake where we could rent a flat bottom motorized boat. Jim wanted to fish, and tried. George and Eva were less than thrilled.

The next day, Eva had to fly back south to go to work, and George, in his motorhome, and Jim and I in ours, started north toward Ashland, Oregon, where we were planning to spend the night. As we drove north, Mt. Shasta  was majestically beautiful on our right, and seemed so close!

Later in the day, we were behind a large semi as we were going up a hill. It had bales of hay strapped onto a platform at the back. Jim said, "I'll bet they're with the circus, and that hay is for some kind of animals." "What kind?" I wondered. "Maybe elephants," said Jim, "that's a huge rig." My mind was whirling with the possibiities of what we would soon be experiencing.

We continued on to Ashland, and were surprised to run into snow in the mountains before coming down into town. We found a wonderful restaurant, The Country Kitchen, which  had been recommended to George. The food was excellent, and, for once, George, who was hard to please, had no complaints. He ate with gusto, and even complimented the waitress and the owner. "Great food!" he said as he paid his bill, "really great!"

Jim paid our bill, and got to talking with the owner about where we were going. "Well I'll be!" he said, his face lighting up, "I always did love the circus!" In spite of being along in years, and a little stout, he suddeny looked like a little boy. He asked Jim what his act was, and when he heard he was a musician, lit up all over again, because he loved music, too. The upshot of it all was that we were given permission to park our rigs out in back of the restaurant for the night.

In the morning early, George, always impatient, banged on our door as if the hounds were after him. "Hey, get up! We gotta get going!" My eyes were barely open. I was trying to feed the kittens. Jim groaned. "George says to get up," I told him. He groaned again, but got up.

The trip to Coquille was beautiful, especially after we left the freeway and got on Route 42, a two-lane highway that wound through the mountains and through small logging towns reminiscent of frontier days.