Sylvia's RV Journey

Well, I made it through rush-hour traffic into San Francisco, however I spent quite a bit of time looking for adequate parking. Many of the garages are not high enough, and several open lots specifically stated no RV parking. I can see now why people take Uber taxis into this area. Google maps took me into the heart of San Francisco, and before I knew it, I  was headed down a super steep hill, after I noticed the sign stating "no vehicles over 3 tons." I am almost 5 tons. Gulp. Oh dear, I had already committed, and here I was heading downhill with my heart in my mouth. I will say that's it was a memorable and scary experience, and immediately turned off on the next block, to find a level road. I eventually found a parking space, and had quite a walk from Pier 7 to get down to Pier 39, where I wanted to check out the shops, as well as the sea lions. I was here early enough so the crowds weren't too bad, however as the day transpired, there was shoulder-to-shoulder cr

Well, my lovely cricket filled night turned into morning. I'm starting to get used to the gray fogged out mornings, so different from my mornings in sunny Arizona. it's a cool walk with JoJo. I continued on my pathway north towards San Francisco. I enjoyed the rural ride, and actually stopped twice at a farm stand. Once to buy strawberries, and the second time to buy what they called English peas. These peas were the biggest pea pods I have ever seen with sweet large juicy peas, that I had for my lunch, in a salad. I found another roadside State Beach park along route 1, dragged my chair to the cliff's edge, and did some more reading. Because it's chilly, windy, and overcast, there is hardly anybody here at all! I've been thinking about my strategy for overnight stays in San Francisco. And I even debated on whether I should just drive past the city or check out the sights. I bit the bullet, and am staying in an RV park right along the coast. It's the last

I am cooking my dinner here on the propane stove: sauteed chicken, cauliflower with red onion, and some pesto pasta. I am in Watsonville, California, north of Monterey. I'm a "Harvest Host" member, which means that I can find vineyards, wineries, farms, and museums, and for a modest fee, either buy a product or spend a bit of money, to secure a space. So, right now, I am at the Red Hawk Farm. I'm overlooking a vineyard field, with really noisy crickets, and it's only 6:30 pm!  I LOVE hearing them! The owner let me plug into their 30 amp service, which I have not had since I was at my cousin's house. It's actually warm here, compared to earlier in the day when I visited Salina's River Beach Park. The park was a remote board walk from the parking lot, and I was only one of three cars in this spot. I folded open my beach chair, and for about an hour, read my book, and enjoyed complete solitude and privacy. But it was cold. Omg, it was like arriving on the