After the final part of the west coast trip, we started discussing possible relocation. Having seen so many wonderful places and met so many inspiring people, how could we not? That was, after all, the reason for driving all the way up to Portland. So we sent mail to our new and old friends in the Sebastopol and Petaluma areas. This was in hope they would share leads that would make our relocation easier or even give us some good ideas.
As we resolve to tell our landlord, let’s call him Larry, of the imminent move, we hear some god awful yelling in the morning. I’ll spare you the unappetizing details… Turns out Larry, a perfectly normal and very intelligent person, had a mental breakdown and kicked everyone off the property. When I say break down, I mean it. He was throwing things out windows, laughing to himself in a manner that makes you think twice about closing your eyes at night and then, our turn. He finally decided it was unsafe for us to be there and proceeded to tell us. Only problem is this was at 7 am and at the top of his lungs. Needless to say, we agreed with him and left stat!
It took us five minutes to get up, dressed,packed and a ways down the road. Sadly we realized we would have to go back and dismantle our camp while packing all our belongings into the trailer and then drive off without incident. Not an easy to do list. We assembled a task force of four and decided to go at it. We drove in without much of an incident and started to make quick work of it. Two of us outside taking things apart and two in the trailer packing it. As all this was happening we were treated to howling, grunting and yelling too wild to be fully made out. Then it happened, the sun was setting and we were not done. We had everything packed but getting the truck and the trailer hitched was proving to be complicated business. That and one of the people looking after Larry left so it all broke loose from there. It was dark, we were frustrated, irritated and tired. Larry decides to come up to us and throw we don’t know what in our direction and howl, screech or hiss while behind the bushes. At this point we had enough and decided to just leave and come back later.
As we were driving off, leaving the trailer hitched and everything ready for next time, we realize there was something in the middle of the driveway. A box? No wait it was the beehive, for a second I was hoping he disturbed the bees and they all went after him. No such luck though as it looked like they had fled the scene prior to the launching of the box. Smarter than me, I guess.
The next morning Erin and I had had enough. We decided to call the sheriffs for a “keep the peace” escort. At high noon Erin, my brother and I met three patrol cars totaling six deputies. They were in high alert because of Christopher Dorner. I was unaware as we were dealing with our own issues and don’t watch TV. However they seemed on edge, so I feared for Larry’s safety. We talked briefly and proceeded to caravan down the dirt road. I’ve been down that road a million times, but this one seemed like the longest. As we pulled up the deputies were already talking to Larry and were advising him to stay put and luckily he did. We got on with it and realized backing up is not as easy as going forward when you are towing. My bro, however, has a class A license and after some finagling, took off like a bat out of hell towards the exit. He was not as careful as I might have been, as he did not have all his possessions riding behind, but did a stellar job non the less. Except the three times when the rig looked like it might go off the cliff, but hey. All’s well that ends well.
As the sun sets on our old place we can’t help but think of Larry and wish him a speedy recovery. We now look onward to the North for our next step on this adventure called life.
Hope your week was more relaxing than ours. Be well.
P.S. in case you missed the moves…
Move #2 Progressing towards the goal