Midwest2Westcoast

  We kind of snuck into Tacoma the back way. We went through something we now know is called “the pass” and exited I-90 on a smaller southwest-bound road and had to stop just a few minutes for traffic due to road construction. This was our first stop, or even serious slowdown, in the entire 2,000-mile trip. I stopped for gas and knew this would be a record. It was, with a fill-up coming in just under $120. Washington has the highest gas in the nation right now. I start considering what it might have been like to move out here with the Beetle rather than the truck. Certainly much less stuff to load and unload. Downtown Tacoma offers steep hills – practically San Francisco-level grade. We found our Airbnb, the place we have booked for the first month. The plan was to find a year-long lease this month. But Ann’s mother had texted us a Zillow link to a place on the water available for a reasonable rate. “Reasonable” and “on the water” don’t typically belong in the same sentence anywher...

Planning this road trip involved big, beautiful round numbers. COMO to TACOMA is right at 2,000 miles, or 30 hours of drive time, according to Google maps. You can take I-70 until it runs out, or go a little more north and take I-80, or even more and take I-90. We opted for the northern route, taking advantage of the late-season heat wave. Directions were easy. I-70 to KC, then 29 north to I-90 and I-90 west all the way to and through Washington. I was able to work on the drive. Our truck is a hybrid and generates power, so the laptop stayed fully charged and surprisingly well connected to the internet via the hotspot on my phone, usually not losing signal for more than a few minutes, mostly in the mountains. Aside from the working part, it felt like we were leaving for a vacation, although not nearly as well planned. I usually do the trip planning, mapping out routes, booking accommodations, and even scouting restaurants online. With this adventure, I didn’t know when we would b...

I may have to give up my man card, but I didn’t really want to tow a trailer across the country. I can tow a trailer. I was hauling trailers full of cattle from the age of 16 on. I’ve towed a too-heavy boat from Missouri to Lake Powell and back. I can drive towing a trailer. But a couple of years back when I bought our little camper, even though it’s a mere 21 feet long, I watched my fuel economy go from around 23 mpg to 7 mpg on the tow home. I was impressed that the fuel pump on my truck was capable of evacuating the gas from my tank that quickly.  It’s a tall camper, and it doesn’t exactly glide through the air. But perhaps even more than the horrible mileage, I wanted to be able to stop for the night at a motel, then go out for dinner somewhere, without worrying about parking something as long as a school bus, or going through a big ritual of unhooking and hooking up every day. We bought a camper shell specifically for the move, and I was really hoping everything fit. It ...

 Ann’s last day of work was August 18. It was impressive to see former coworkers and partners in conversation from all over Missouri show up at her office that day to wish her well. My work send-off came about a month later, as we gathered at Logboat. Most of my office dropped by, including some people who don’t work there anymore, and I even got a few District Superintendents, as Cabinet was meeting that day. I also got a visit from my good friends Llans and Danica, hailing from my hometown of Belle. Since their home church disaffiliated from United Methodism, he was a little nervous about coming to a United Methodist happy hour. He needn’t have worried, because once I introduced them as lifelong engineers with the Missouri Department of Transportation, disaffiliation was forgotten as my road-weary coworkers instead were able to take the opportunity to lodge complaints about the various road work projects slowing traffic across the state. When the party final dwindled down to th...

  It is a good time to be an urban forester.  When Ann’s years of service plus age equaled the magic “80 and out” number, the Golden Handcuffs were released from the Missouri Department of Conservation. We had a window of opportunity: No one needs us here. My parents have passed, Ann’s are strong and independent. Our boys are not yet married, and grandchildren should be several years away, so we’re kind of on our own. Our dog is getting old, but she’s still up for some adventures. So off we go.  But to where? We initially thought of leaving the country, but quickly learned that no other country wants us. A few countries that are coming up a little shy on people in certain regions are welcoming immigrants, but they want young ones, with a typical age cap somewhere in the 30s. France will take you if you’re a lawyer. Italy will welcome you if you spend several hundred thousand dollars on a house in a place no one wants to live. A lot of countries let you hang out, so long a...

A lot of people have been asking about our move and how things are going, so I'm starting this blog to fill in our friends and maybe make some new ones. Don't worry that I'm doing this blog while I should be working. I'm still working full-time through the day. I'm doing this blog while I should be going to the gym. And this kind of drivel comes out of me like a firehouse, so there's really no effort on my part. I don't expect this to be as entertaining as my son Oliver's two blogs from the past two summers working at Yellowstone NP and Everglades NP  ( https://asummerinyellowstone.blogspot.com and  https://asummerintheeverglades.blogspot.com/ ),  but it will at least let you know that Ann and I made it here and are still kicking.