An Aria in Blue

The one upside to the slightly premature end of the Dodgers’ remarkable season – a season which brought them their second National League pennant in a row, lest we forget – is that in bowing out when they did, they denied the Red Sox the opportunity to win at home.

A small consolation, perhaps, but a worthy one.

Congratulations to the Red Sox.

As for my Dodgers, we have been here before. Wait till next year!

Bye, Baby

After five delightful years, we decided to sell our Itasca Navion motor home. We loved our house-on-wheels, but the painful truth that we discovered was that between my business travel, my son’s school, the demands that scouting placed on our weekends, and my wife’s growing preference for hotel rooms, we just weren’t using it as much as we should.

So we did the best thing for her and for us, and we took her back to the wonderful folks at Conejo RV, who had originally sold her to us, and they gave us a very fair price to pass her on to another (hopefully less busy) family.

I cannot say enough great things about either Itasca (which is to Winnebago what Lexus is to Toyota) or the Navion, or the dealer. We had an unforgettable experience all around, and (don’t tell my wife) I will be purchasing an RV again when 60-70-hour work weeks are no longer a regular occurrence in my life, and when the open road and solo camping are at least a weekend a month.

For now, though, my SUV and my pup-tent are my second home, as is appropriate for a scout leader with a day job.

Bye, baby. And thank you.

Donner Summit Chill-out

It’s cooler up here than it was down in the meadows, and I suspect I will have the air conditioning well before the final foothills of the Sierras give way to the valley somewhere around Citrus Heights. Summer is releasing her hold on the mountains without haste, but the weather is glorious.

The Pacific Crest Trail crosses the highway about 100 meters from where I sit, and the trees behind me mask the trail’s meander upwards from this saddle towards Castle Peak. The moment reminds me that I want to spend some time on the PCT with my son, maybe just a few of the “easier” segments, and that I have a lot of training ahead before I can enjoy the pleasure of the trail as much as I enjoy that of the road or the iron rail.

 

Asphalt Ladder

Stopped atop Donner Summit on my way from a meeting in Reno to a meeting in San Jose, I could not help thinking about the engineering that went into piercing this steepest of North American mountain ranges with a transportation artery that links the nation with coastal California.

The story of the construction of the transcontinental railroad is a treasured piece of American lore, and the project’s great historians tell us that effort to cross the Sierras with iron rails was the most arduous part of that undertaking. Building the Lincoln Highway through the Sierras, and later Interstate 80, have been almost ignored. What of the engineering, of the careful balance between the needs of the automobile and the need to care for the land, of the value unleashed by eliminating the need to veer northwards to the Columbia River or southwards to Tehachapi?

The pioneers would have not dared to conceive of traveling from Truckee Meadows to the San Francisco Bay in a week, much less in an afternoon. And yet, here I am, and with time enough to stop in Dixon for lunch.

My historian’s nose tells me there is more to be learned and a bigger story to be told, and I file it away for future thought. Sitting back down in my car, I say a silent “thank you” to the trailblazers who found this pass, to the surveyors who chose the path, to the engineers who designed it, and to the legions of men who hewed it out of the granite.