Note: the italic text is a contribution by Elaine; the non-italic text is Yvon's.
Feb. 1, 2016- Monday
Time to dig out of the sand!!!
Since we have been here, most of the days have been somewhat windy; that kind of wind that blows away the warm feeling of a sunny day. But who are we to complain of a cold 70ºF (21ºC) in December and January...
For the past 10 days or so, the weather stations have been predicting some stronger than usual winds for the area; numbers that people mention as they cross path on the sidewalk, with an expression of concern; and everyone got prepared for it. Saturday and/or Sunday they said. So, everything got tied down that had a chance of sailing away. Awnings in tight; outdoor chairs folded and tucked away.
We experienced the first effect of the storm when the vendors at the flee market (swap meet, in local term) started dropping the canvas all around the tents with a fervour that meant urgency. Everything else that was flying up a post, or not, was flying straight out, stiff as starched laundry. Pointing directly north. Still under the canvases, between the vendors exhibits, we could feel the electric energy surrounding us.
We had to reach our truck at the other end of the parking lot. We started to experience the tangible significance of it with our own body; the sound of the wind, the sand in the air blasting our skin; having to squint to prevent the sand in our eyes. Visibility on the road became greatly reduced as we hurried, with caution, to our home.
Located in a desert and sandy region, the parks around here become a real playground for a windstorm. The surrounding mountains have all disappeared. The clubhouse and the flags on it are faint shadows that come in and out of sight. The sand shifting wind creates the illusion that our neighbour's trailer is riding on a moving, beige cloud.
Once in the safety (is it?) of our trailer, we prepare to spend some time holding the fort and get through this storm. The large windows allow us to have first row seats for this spectacle. And what a display it is.
And who needs Disney World or Universal Studio to get the "full motion" experience of the event? The wind must have a surreal vision of this obstruction on its way; 'cause it uses the slide-outs as it would the wings of an airplane, to give us a surprisingly rocky ride. Even the satellite dish cannot be stable enough to get an acceptable signal...
The ruckus continues in the same fashion, as the faded lights of the day slowly dim out, to give way to the complete darkness of the night.
Hours of 35 mph wind, gusting to 50 mph. (That converts to 56 km/h, gusting to 80.5 km/h).
The
sun screen, usually attached to the awning, has been folded on the
ground; the solar powered lights that decorate it (the tiny Christmas
light type), have turned on by now; but only half of the string can be
seen shining, the rest being covered with sand.
The rope type LED's that was so carefully stretched at the contour of the outdoor carpet, like a plane landing strip approach, suddenly vanish under small sand dunes that also camouflage a large section of the carpet.
There is this nice LED lit butterfly string of lights, meticulously hung high along the side of our largest slide-out; the wind is taking great pleasure using it as a percussion instrument, banging it at a random rhythm, on the shiny, resonating wall. The mental picture of a pitted, defaced surface is driving us crazy. It would not be a safe move, in this wind, to climb the ladder to drop it; but our senses are vigilant, waiting for a break in the wind, as short as it could be, to jump on the opportunity to remove the ornament. We were ready; three minutes to end the torment.
We toasted to that.
So this is how, this morning, like survivors, we are checking out the aftermath of another experience.
We can still hear the wind reminding us of its presence; but the mean edge has gone with the rising of the sun.
We find evidence of the storm wherever the sand, pushed by the gale, infiltrated our home. At windows, door and slide-outs seals; around this window that, inadvertently, have been left opened, just a crack (for fresh air, you know). And a fine dust over everything!!!
Yes!
Time to dig out of the sand!!!
Think of it as an opportunity.
The place is being cleaned from top to bottom.
Just another chore; it need to be done at some time or another anyway.
Feb. 3, 2016
Elaine and the girls (the crafty type ones) have gone to a craft show in Quartzsite, AZ.
The plan includes breakfast at Goldsboro Bakery, in the Foothills, before departing for Quartzsite. They have the best donuts around (better than Tim Horton's????). Their food is cooked on site. So it promises to be a good start for the day.
Elaine is driving. They should be there almost before they leave....
Once there, the Craft Show ... did not materialize. Nowhere to be found. Mystery.
So, the group wandered around, visiting some of the vendors that set camps permanently in Quartzsite; they even took the opportunity to visit the local book store, Reader's Oasis Books; most renowned in the area for its owner Paul: he attends to the business...au naturel! welcoming customers in his birthday suit. No need to say that most customers are not so much interested in books; but want to be acquainted with Paul for a selfie. And it was no different for the girls!
Because of the particularly intense cold weather of the day, he was wearing... a shirt. He still happily paused for a photo session.
(I shall be forgiven for omitting the pictures; this blog is intended to be a family rated blog....)
Guess what the subject of conversation is at Happy Hour? cell phone in hand and pictures to show and tell?
The craft minded crowd comes up with a new item to work on: a willy warmer! dedicated to Paul. Imagination takes it from there and there is no shortage of creative suggestions....
Feb. 1, 2016- Monday
Time to dig out of the sand!!!
Since we have been here, most of the days have been somewhat windy; that kind of wind that blows away the warm feeling of a sunny day. But who are we to complain of a cold 70ºF (21ºC) in December and January...
For the past 10 days or so, the weather stations have been predicting some stronger than usual winds for the area; numbers that people mention as they cross path on the sidewalk, with an expression of concern; and everyone got prepared for it. Saturday and/or Sunday they said. So, everything got tied down that had a chance of sailing away. Awnings in tight; outdoor chairs folded and tucked away.
We experienced the first effect of the storm when the vendors at the flee market (swap meet, in local term) started dropping the canvas all around the tents with a fervour that meant urgency. Everything else that was flying up a post, or not, was flying straight out, stiff as starched laundry. Pointing directly north. Still under the canvases, between the vendors exhibits, we could feel the electric energy surrounding us.
We had to reach our truck at the other end of the parking lot. We started to experience the tangible significance of it with our own body; the sound of the wind, the sand in the air blasting our skin; having to squint to prevent the sand in our eyes. Visibility on the road became greatly reduced as we hurried, with caution, to our home.
Located in a desert and sandy region, the parks around here become a real playground for a windstorm. The surrounding mountains have all disappeared. The clubhouse and the flags on it are faint shadows that come in and out of sight. The sand shifting wind creates the illusion that our neighbour's trailer is riding on a moving, beige cloud.
Once in the safety (is it?) of our trailer, we prepare to spend some time holding the fort and get through this storm. The large windows allow us to have first row seats for this spectacle. And what a display it is.
And who needs Disney World or Universal Studio to get the "full motion" experience of the event? The wind must have a surreal vision of this obstruction on its way; 'cause it uses the slide-outs as it would the wings of an airplane, to give us a surprisingly rocky ride. Even the satellite dish cannot be stable enough to get an acceptable signal...
The ruckus continues in the same fashion, as the faded lights of the day slowly dim out, to give way to the complete darkness of the night.
Hours of 35 mph wind, gusting to 50 mph. (That converts to 56 km/h, gusting to 80.5 km/h).
The
sun screen, usually attached to the awning, has been folded on the
ground; the solar powered lights that decorate it (the tiny Christmas
light type), have turned on by now; but only half of the string can be
seen shining, the rest being covered with sand.
The rope type LED's that was so carefully stretched at the contour of the outdoor carpet, like a plane landing strip approach, suddenly vanish under small sand dunes that also camouflage a large section of the carpet.
There is this nice LED lit butterfly string of lights, meticulously hung high along the side of our largest slide-out; the wind is taking great pleasure using it as a percussion instrument, banging it at a random rhythm, on the shiny, resonating wall. The mental picture of a pitted, defaced surface is driving us crazy. It would not be a safe move, in this wind, to climb the ladder to drop it; but our senses are vigilant, waiting for a break in the wind, as short as it could be, to jump on the opportunity to remove the ornament. We were ready; three minutes to end the torment.
We toasted to that.
So this is how, this morning, like survivors, we are checking out the aftermath of another experience.
We can still hear the wind reminding us of its presence; but the mean edge has gone with the rising of the sun.
We find evidence of the storm wherever the sand, pushed by the gale, infiltrated our home. At windows, door and slide-outs seals; around this window that, inadvertently, have been left opened, just a crack (for fresh air, you know). And a fine dust over everything!!!
Yes!
Time to dig out of the sand!!!
Think of it as an opportunity.
The place is being cleaned from top to bottom.
Just another chore; it need to be done at some time or another anyway.
Feb. 3, 2016
Elaine and the girls (the crafty type ones) have gone to a craft show in Quartzsite, AZ.
The plan includes breakfast at Goldsboro Bakery, in the Foothills, before departing for Quartzsite. They have the best donuts around (better than Tim Horton's????). Their food is cooked on site. So it promises to be a good start for the day.
Elaine is driving. They should be there almost before they leave....
Once there, the Craft Show ... did not materialize. Nowhere to be found. Mystery.
So, the group wandered around, visiting some of the vendors that set camps permanently in Quartzsite; they even took the opportunity to visit the local book store, Reader's Oasis Books; most renowned in the area for its owner Paul: he attends to the business...au naturel! welcoming customers in his birthday suit. No need to say that most customers are not so much interested in books; but want to be acquainted with Paul for a selfie. And it was no different for the girls!
Because of the particularly intense cold weather of the day, he was wearing... a shirt. He still happily paused for a photo session.
(I shall be forgiven for omitting the pictures; this blog is intended to be a family rated blog....)
Guess what the subject of conversation is at Happy Hour? cell phone in hand and pictures to show and tell?
The craft minded crowd comes up with a new item to work on: a willy warmer! dedicated to Paul. Imagination takes it from there and there is no shortage of creative suggestions....
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