What's an Iron Ranger?

Have you ever heard of an "Iron Ranger?" I hadn't, until yesterday when I entered Fort Ross State Historic Park along U.S. 1 in northern California. Fort Ross, in case you do not know, is where the Russians settled in the 1830s to raise crops and hunt sea otters. But once the animals were virtually wiped out and the crops alone could not justify the expense of the fort, the Russians went home, selling the fort to John Sutter (of Sutter's Fort in Sacramento). Anyway. . . an Iron Ranger, I learned, is the "Pay Box" where you deposit your entry fee.

Unique tree attracts attention along California coast

This spectacularly trimmed tree is along California Highway 1 in the tiny northern California coastal village of Manchester. Look for it on the east side of the highway as you pass through town. What appears to be a woman sitting beneath the tree is a silhouette cut from metal.

No recycled toilet paper for me

I did not buy this toilet paper in the store today even though it has the fancy name of Natural Value, which, at first glance seems very good. I am in favor of recycling paper plates, newspapers, old paper dolls and assorted other paper goods. In my household we only use our toilet paper only once. And then we flush it. That's the way it should be, if you ask me.

This RV is one big blurr

I was walking through Richardson Grove in the California redwood country. U.S. 101 was just to my right. My small digital camera was in my pocket. The day was cloudy and the giant redwood trees blocked most of the daylight. Even so, I decided I would try to get a photo of an RV going by. After only a minute of waiting, a big brown and gold motorcoach approached in the distance. So I got ready. Just as it passed, I snapped this photo. The lens stayed open a long time to grab enough light, turning the motorhome into one giant blurr. Still, I like the result.

RV park guests leave rock art messages

Ireland's RV Park is downtown Gold Beach, Ore. It's on the west side of the main street (U.S. 101), near the south end of the small coastal town. Look carefully or you will miss the long driveway that leads to the quiet, grassy RV park, which is a stone's throw from the beach. And speaking of stones -- park guests through the years have personalized hundreds of them during their stays.

Some are simply names, but others feature elaborate messages, slogans, words of wisdom, and often art. I liked one rock that was painted to look like a football. Some are faces. Quite a few have RV themes, like the one above. After entering the park, look for the two-story-high lighthouse -- not a real one, but a good replica, on the west side of the park. The rocks are at the base. And be sure to climb the steps to the top of the lighthouse for a great panoramic view of the beach and Pacific Ocean. I stayed at the park for $22 for full-hookups, which was the off-season rate. But I recommend this place if you are in the area.

Zoltar will reveal your future

It's an age old question: if could know your future -- your fate -- would you want to know? If your answer is yes, then by all means go right now to Newport, Ore., where, on the main street of old town, you will find Zoltar. For only a small price -- I think a dollar or less -- the Great Gypsy will tell you what you want to know. Keep paying Zoltar and he will keep telling you more about yourself and your fate. Think of it this way: you could pay a shrink $100 an hour to help understand yourself. Or you could pay Zoltar a buck. No brainer, really.

Incredible RV is made out of a single log

I came today upon an incredible RV -- a travel trailer built entirely of a single redwood log. That's right -- just one log. Back in 1946, before I was even born, it took two months of hard labor for Art Schmock and a helper to hollow out a 42-foot section of a 2,100-year-old redwood tree to create the 32-foot log house, which today we would call a trailer because it has a trailer hitch so it can be pulled. I did not see a license plate, so it is not currently street legal. Actually, the Log House is going nowhere. It's on display permanently at a souvenir shop about nine miles north Garberville, Calif., on U.S. 101 in the heart of the North Coast redwood country, home to majestic, thousand year old redwood trees, and 50-year-old tacky gift shops. To see inside the Log House you must first go to the souvenir shop and tell the clerk you wish to see the house. You will then be given a secret code which you punch into the door of the log abode, and if you are honest like me, you deposit a dollar in a lock box. But I will save you the dollar if you simply take one minute to watch this video that I personally shot and narrated when I visited.

Be lucky you were not in this car

I spotted this Ford Taurus station wagon parked along the Avenue of the Giants scenic route off U.S. 101 in the California coast redwood country. Someone's day was spoiled for sure when Mother Nature dropped a log on this vehicle.

Two funny Oregon coast business slogans

I spotted these two business slogans on my way down the Oregon coast. If you keep your eye out when you travel, you will find similar funny and sometimes very clever messages. The glass shop is in Florence and the brake shop is in Coos Bay. The most popular business slogan is the one used by dozens of American and even Canadian radiator shops, "Best place to take a leak."

Catholic Church does double duty

The Catholic Church in Trinidad, Calif., is very pretty. But it is unusual, I think, because not only does it offer Catholic services, but a Sunday Episcopalian service as well. That's what it says on its sign. Do other churches do this? I wonder.

Fulltime RVers not always so easily identified

People are not always what they appear to be. You think people are residents of a particular town and then you start talking to them and you learn they are living and traveling full-time in RVs. Yesterday, as I left the library in Brookings, Ore., I made a remark about a woman's cute little dog. I thought it was a spaniel. It turned out it was a mutt. "He cost me a bundle," she said, and I asked why. She said it was because it was part poodle, so it didn't shed. "People with allergies will pay a lot for a dog that doesn't shed," she explained. Her dog, for example, cost $350. We kept talking. I asked if she lived in Brookings. She said that she and her husband did now, but in a fifth wheel trailer. Gas costs too much for them to travel, so they are staying put for now.

The next morning, in Crescent City, Calif., I knocked on the door of a small motorhome with European plates: you don't see many RVs from across the sea. It looked a lot like my Winnebago View. The owners, a retired English couple, told me they had been touring North America for more than two years in the 27-foot motorhome and three years in Europe before that. They were only two weeks away from flying home, and their motorhome will follow along. Once it arrives in their county of Kent, they will live in it fulltime. I asked them if living in an RV fulltime was unusual in England, and they said it was. They said that while in North America the trickiest problem was getting health insurance.

Later that afternoon, I was taking a picture of the beautiful lighthouse in Trinidad, California. A couple was also taking photos. "Are you professional photographers?" I asked, and they said no, it was just a hobby. "Are you from around here?" I asked, and they said, "oh, no, we're full time RVers." It turned out that Jack and Susan Girdis were in the area to care for Jack's elderly father, who is in ill health. "It's nice to be able to be with him, but to sleep in my own bed at night," Jack said. Check out the couple's website about their travels. Check it out.

Different places, different sounds

One thing about traveling with an RV is that each time you stop for the night, the sounds outside your window are different. Sometimes it's just traffic. Sometimes it's a train horn. But sometimes it is something better. Two nights ago in Crescent City, Calif., where I camped right on the beach, I heard seals barking all night. They were faint, so they didn't keep me awake. This morning, in the Eureka KOA, I awoke to the mooing of a cow.

I like waking up to different sounds and I like sleeping to different sounds. I look forward to Death Valley so I can lie in my bed and listen to coyotes howl.

Beat up statue stands guard at RV park entrance

When you check into the Shoreline RV Campground in Crescent City, Calif., you will see this wooden fellow at the entrance. If you look closely on this backside, you will notice that he's kinda beat up. He gets whacked pretty hard by vehicles now and then. I liked his sunglasses so I took a pic. I thought he looked like a sea captain but the woman in the campground office said she figured he was a fisherman. Most statues -- in this case a wood carving -- do not have sunglasses, so I thought this one was unusual enough to show you here.

Famous roadside statue loses its head

Very, very bad news. . . Babe the Blue Ox has lost his head. The 10,000-pound mascot of Trees of Mystery along U.S. 101 north of Eureka, Calif., is currently headless, but with any luck for only another few weeks. Babe lost his head in late November. It just fell off. "We thought it was supported by steel," a Trees of Mystery employee told me. "But only two, two-by-six pieces of wood held it, and they'd rotted."

Nobody saw Babe's head fall off because it happened after business hours. Good thing, too, because a lot of people gawk up close at the famous ox and his lumberjack buddy Paul Bunyon. The giant duo has stood along the highway for 45 years, and earned Kodak a tidy profit in the years before digital cameras.

If you want to shap a photo of Paul and Babe for your own, you should probably wait until early February to visit Trees of Mystery. Babe should have a new head by then.

Photos: Big photo: Headless Babe. Small photo: Babe before losing his head.

Wood carver welcomes visitors near Oregon coast

It's not difficult to find an artist of one kind or another along a rural Oregon highway. For example, Mike Kain makes and sells what he calls "exotic wood furniture and wood carvings," from his workshop and showroom along U.S. 20 near Eddyville, Oregon -- a town with a city limits sign but little evidence of a town. If you are traveling this lonely road and notice Mike's business, "Amongst the Woods," stop to check it out. There is plenty of room to park any size RV.

Outside, there's a hodgepodge of weathered carvings -- furniture, a swing, and even a tree house with a single chair, presumably for soaking up the sun on the rare day it appears. Inside Mike's showroom is where the good stuff is displayed -- beautiful carvings, often of burl, most of it functional -- chairs, coffee tables, end tables. Mike says working in this remote location is good for business. "In a gallery, you get very few buyers," he says. "Most people just look. Here, most of the people who stop buy something." He said much of his work is commissioned. "Fireplace mantles are popular," he said. He also sells jewelry, glasswork, pottery and other art work made by his wife and friends. Prices on jewelry start at about $15. Prices on Mike's furniture and other creations are reasonable compared to what it would sell for in a big city. I told him that I thought his work would sell for two to three times more in Seattle, where I live. Mike is located at 25847 Highway 20, about 15 minutes east of Newport, along the Oregon coast (541-875-4200).

Old trailer keeps students out of the rain

Where do old RVs go when they die? Sometimes, it's to the junkyard. In rural areas, they often end up in a field where they gather moss. Near Eddyville, Ore., along rural U.S. route 20, a retired travel trailer provides shelter at a school bus stop. This part of the country gets a whole buncha rain. If you're a kid waiting for a ride to school, even a beat old RV like this is likely a very good thing.

Why RVing is like joining the circus

I came across a book recently about "Running Away With the Circus." But what it was really about was running away from one's present life and to a new one. Quitting an executive job to take up pottery-making would be an example. Retiring early to go full-time RVing would be another.

When you were young did you ever dream of joining the circus? I did. Oh, I was never serious about it, but I did ponder the idea of drifting from place to place gypsy-style. I have never understood my need to be a drifter. Some people need to plant roots firmly and then stay planted. I never desired deep roots, but shallow ones that could be easily replanted elsewhere.

I know people who love one place. They may try living in different towns, but never feel quite at home until they arrive in a special town where, for the first time, they feel complete. "This is it," they say, and that is where they remain forever.

I have never found such a place. My place has always been somewhere different from the place before. My house -- my very favorite house -- has always been my motor-house, the one that allows me to live as a gypsy without being so conspicuous that people think me odd. I like waking up often in a different place, but I especially like it when I awake in such a place in my very own RV's bed. I believe this is like having your cake and eating it, too.

At a recent RV show, I met many wonderful people, and among them were dozens who were about to embark on a full-time life on the road. Most were not of traditional retirement age, but younger. I did not ask them if, when they were young, they dreamed of joining the circus where they could drift about the land. But I have a feeling some of them would have said yes.

Right now, writing this, I'm feeling a bit of what I felt as a young man when I dreamed of joining the circus -- of seeing new places and having new experiences. Those people at the RV show — the soon-to-be full-timers -- they got me thinking about my persistent restlessness. Have you ever stood at the airport and watched a friend's plane take off to a place far away? Did you want to go? Did you feel envy? Did you feel left behind?

That's the way I feel right now.