Tag Archives: Oregon

(Guest Post) RV Living: A New Reality

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Today I have the pleasure of sharing a post by Carolyn Rose, author of the blog Carolyn’s RV Life.

It was a cool autumn evening. The sun was lazily making its way down the western sky and the smell of wood-fires and home-cooking infused the air with familiarity and reflection. On my evening walk, I passed two children playing in a huge natural yard. I noted how different it was from the perfectly manicured postage-stamp size yards, hidden behind six-foot fences that I’m used to. In the San Francisco suburbs, children don’t just play out in the open like that.

I marveled at their carefree innocence from the other side of the street. They laughed and played and hung on a good-natured and patient Golden Retriever. Not a care in the world; they didn’t even notice me. I felt like I’d been transported back to simpler times.

Bronze Cowboy--Joseph, ORI’d parked my RV at the little league fields, a few blocks away, earlier in the day and spent the afternoon working and writing and enjoying peace and solitude. I was amazed that not a single kid came to the field to play nor nearby residents to walk their dogs. And I realized, it’s because here, in tiny-town USA (Enterprise, Oregon) everyone has a yard. Their little league field is for actual Little League, not a community yard where people who live in giant houses with tiny yards and neighbors within arms’ reach must drive to get some exercise and fresh air.

Spending the day in the tiny northern Oregon town took me back to my own Upstate New York roots – the ones I fled when I moved to San Francisco at twenty-one, and never looked back. Roots that I’ve spent my whole adult life running away from and denying. In my race to run from my past, I ran from myself. I ran from my predisposition toward a simpler way of life: where the streets aren’t always paved and the clerks in the grocery store know their customers by name.

As I hobbled over the cracked and crooked sidewalks, through old neighborhoods with normal-sized single-story houses (not super-sized McMansions), and inhaled the crisp home-town air, I realized how much living in a metropolitan area for nearly three decades had changed me. I’d forgotten how the rest of the country lives; how pure and simple life can be.

I was surprised at how comfortable it felt. Like I’d walked into a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special and a world where kids are innocent and free and old-fashioned kindness and community rules the day. I wanted to wrap the town around me like grandma’s handmade quilt and fall asleep in its warmth. scenic-bridge-joseph-or

As the afternoon turned to night, I meandered through the tiny town wanting to see and experience it all. I saw, through the lighted windows of cozy homes, quaint shops and tiny wooden churches with stained glass windows, what had been missing in my city life. Family. Community. Simplicity.

It dawned on me that my big city experiences and values had isolated me from the reality of what most Americans experience daily. I pondered the contentious election, and for the first time, I understood. I understood the fear. I understood the challenges that small-town America faces and how they feel like their way of life is on the verge of falling off the cliff. I understood how they view a sensationalized version of the events in our country – and the world – through their TV screens and it terrifies them. I understood how their serene and quiet lives seem threatened. And like the crackle of a fresh log put on a dying fire, my brain awakened to a new concept of reality. And a new awareness of how relative reality really is.

What a gift I was given that day. My new life as a full time RVer put me in a place I’d never have experienced in my old life.  My new, slower RV Life allows me to get out from behind the windshield and immerse myself into new places and not just fly past at 70 miles per hour. A new town isn’t just another double almond-milk cappuccino served up by the local Starbucks barista at an anonymous interstate town, but a real, live breathing place with history and community.

Joseph CafeI spent three days in and around Enterprise, Oregon. I talked to chatty coffee drinkers in cafes, friendly grocery store clerks and helpful mechanics. I got to meet real people, with real wants, needs and concerns. Real people, with families, friends and happy Golden Retrievers. Not nameless, faceless political ideologues or Facebook trolls. But real people.

What a wonderful life I get to have by stepping away from my version of reality, hitting the road and forging my own path and a new reality. My RV Life opened my eyes – and my heart –  to a community, which, on the surface seemed so different from my old Bay Area community, but at the core, was very much the same.

Thank you, Enterprise, Oregon, for letting me temporarily live in your town and experience your reality.

About Carolyn Rose:

Early in 2016, at forty-eight years, old, I sold everything I owned, bought a 23-year-old RV and hit the road with my dog Capone. I’d spent decades building a career and a company and chasing the American Dream. After hiking 256 miles in 26 days alone in 2015, I came to accept that the life I’d been chasing wasn’t what I wanted. I was tired of living a lie; working to buy things I didn’t really need and feeling trapped in a tiny Bay Area apartment.  I wanted space. I wanted freedom.  And as a marketing consultant, I was free to work wherever I wanted. So, I took the leap and changed my life!

To read more about my journey, you can visit my website at http://CarolynsRVLife.com for more information.

Photos were provided by the author.

Hemp

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Hemp’s been on my mind lately, as I am making and selling jewelry made from the fiber. A couple of years ago, I did some research and wrote down hemp talking points so I could share information with people who were curious or had misconceptions about it. I’ll share that information here, along with new details I recently learned.

Many people think hemp is the same as marijuana and can get a person high. (Read about my experiences with people who want to know if they can get high from my hemp jewelry here: https://throwingstoriesintotheether.wordpress.com/2015/04/17/can-you-smoke-it and here: http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2015/12/09/selling-hemp-again/

A  state of Colorado website (https://www.colorado.gov/pacific/agplants/difference-between-hemp-and-marijuana), defines

Industrial hemp as ‘a plant of the genus Cannabis and any part of that plant, whether growing or not, containing a Delta-9 tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) concentration of no more than 0.3% on a dry weight basis.

According to an article in The New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2015/07/07/nyregion/cannabis-construction-entrepreneurs-use-hemp-in-home-building.html?_r=0), “That is compared with 5 to 10 percent [of THC) found in the hallucinogenic and medicinal varieties.” When comparing hemp and marijuana in the same article, James Savage, who started a company to create building materials derived from cannabis, said

“It’s like the difference between a wolf and a poodle… Same species, totally different animal.”

(The same comparison was made in the documentary Bringing It Home, which I highly recommend to anyone interested in learning a whole lot more about industrial hemp. To learn more about Bringing It Home, go to bringingithomemovie.com. To watch the movie’s trailer and to purchase or rent online streaming, go here: https://vimeo.com/ondemand/bringingithomemovie.)

Even though hemp and marijuana both come from Cannabis sativa L., the varieties that make industrial hemp products and those that produce marijuana are distinctly, scientifically different and are cultivated in different ways. Hemp products such as the cord used to make jewelry comes from the outer filaments of hemp plants, while marijuana comes from the flowers and leaves of a different variety of plants.

Despite these differences, in recent years, The United States has been the only industrialized nation to refuse to distinguish hemp from marijuana. Because of this refusal to distinguish the two plants, when folks ask me where I get my hemp cord, I have to explain it is imported from another country because hemp is not legally grown and processed in the U.S. According to http://www.hempuniversity.com/hemp-university/growing-hemp/countries-growing-hemp/, some of the countries growing hemp that might be made into the cord I use include Hungary, India, and Poland.

The U.S. is (slowly) beginning to distinguish hemp from marijuana. According to https://www.google.com/search?q=which+u.s.+states+allow+licensure+to+grow+hemp&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8, “Six states (Hawaii, Kentucky, Indiana, Minnesota, North Dakota, Tennessee) in 2015 had hemp research crops in accordance with section 7606 of the Farm Bill and state law. Three states (Colorado, Oregon and Vermont) in 2015 licensed or registered farmers to grow hemp under state law.”

Once Colorado legalized recreational marijuana use, many people assumed I was now getting my hemp cord directly from that state. According to http://www.hempuniversity.com/hemp-university/growing-hemp/countries-growing-hemp/,

In 2013, after the legalization of marijuana in the state, several farmers in Colorado planted and harvested several acres of hemp, bringing in the first hemp crop in the United States in over half a century.

However, just because the state of Colorado registers hemp growers and inspects their crops to make sure the THC levels are no greater than 0.3%, a statement from the Colorado Industrial Hemp Program in February of 2014  (https://www.colorado.gov/pacific/agplants/industrial-hemp) says

The State of Colorado has no jurisdiction over many other factors that producers are faced with. While Colorado legalized the production of Industrial Hemp (Cannabis spp), growing it is still considered illegal by the Federal Law.

The following issues may cause concern for those interested in growing this crop in Colorado.

  • Seed Procurement/Seed Quality – Seed that exists in Colorado may be variable and have unknown THC levels…Importation of viable industrial hemp seed across State lines and Country boundaries is illegal under the Federal Controlled Substances Act. [Hemp seeds already in Colorado may be too strong to be legal. It’s illegal to bring hemp seeds across state lines and into Colorado.]

  • Pesticides – There are not any pesticides (herbicides, insecticides, fungicides, etc.) currently registered for use on…Industrial Hemp [sic]…due to the predominant federal nature of pesticide regulation.

  • Federal farm programs such as crop insurance, farm loans and conservation reserve may be jeopardized if industrial hemp is planted… [A farmer might literally lose the farm for growing hemp.]

  • Banking – … banks including state-chartered banks may be reluctant to provide services to Cannabis growers for fear of being prosecuted for federal laws and regulations violations. [Farmers growing hemp might not be able to get loans.]

  • Processing – Colorado’s industrial hemp rules state that industrial hemp producers must provide documentation of in state processing as part of registration. It is unknown at this time how many processing facilities will be available in Colorado at time of harvest. [Hemp farmers can’t be registered if they can’t show their hemp will be processed in the state. Hemp processing facilities may not exist in Colorado when the hemp is harvested.)

So, no, just because hemp is being grown (legally by state law, but illegally by federal law), in Colorado does not mean I can pick up cord made from hemp grown there. I will be totally happy when I can buy cord from hemp grown and processed in the United States, but that day has not yet come.

Hopefully the days of domestic hemp production comes soon, because hemp is a great crop for many reasons.

A hemp crop grows to maturity in about 100 days and produces three to six tons of dry fiber per acre. Hemp plants reach heights of six to twelve feet.

Hemp cord is made from hemp fibers, the long, strong outer filaments of the hemp plant. This fiber is the strongest and one of the most durable natural fiber known. Hemp also has better anti-bacterial properties than any other natural fiber, making it extremely resistant to mold, mildew, and rot. Finally, hemp is flame retardant and is not affected by UV rays.

Hemp is an environmentally friendly crop. Hemp plants flourish with minimal use of pesticides, herbicides, or fungicides. Hemp is planted tightly together with no room or light leftover for weed growth.

Not only does hemp grow well without chemicals, it also improves the soil. A large percentage of nutrients that hemp uses for growth are returned to the soil when the leaves fall, reducing the need for fertilizers and increasing the quality of the soil. Growing industrial hemp restores PH balance to soil and enables other crops to grow on soil that has been acidified by acid rain.

Evidence suggests that hemp cultivation can lift heavy metals from polluted soil. Hemp cleans the soil by absorbing and trapping pollutants ranging from radiation and pesticides to toxins leaching from landfills. According to http://www.hempuniversity.com/hemp-university/growing-hemp/countries-growing-hemp/, Poland has “demonstrated the benefits of using hemp to cleanse soils contaminated by heavy metals,” but gives no further information.

During my research, I found researcher Przemyslaw Baraniecki was associated with these assertions about the soil cleansing properties of hemp. I did not find any information–or at least no information I could understand–explaining how exactly, scientifically, hemp absorbs and traps pollutants. Also, if hemp absorbs and traps pollutants, does that mean those pollutants are present in the end product made from hemp? I don’t know if I want to wear a necklace or a t-shirt made from hemp full of radiation or pesticides or toxins. Hopefully the hemp neutralizes pollutants, but as I am not a scientist, I’m not sure how exactly that would work.

Finally, not only is hemp drought resistance, hemp crops use a lot less water than other crops grown for similar purposes. For example, while cotton requires about 1400 gallons of water for every pound produced, the production of an equivalent amount of hemp requires about half the amount of water. Also, ” hemp produces about 200% – 250% more fibre [sic] in the same amount of land compared to cotton.” (Information in this paragraph from http://www.collective-evolution.com/2013/07/17/hemp-vs-cotton-the-ultimate-showdown/.)

I hope I’ve increased your knowledge of hemp. I also hope you will choose hemp next time it is an option.

When I looked at my original talking points, I found that I had not attributed a source to each piece of information. I do however, have a list of sources [website links] from which I gathered the facts.

www.cannabisculture.com

www.puresativa.com/article.php?article=67

www.bringingithomemovie.com/industrial-hemp

https://www.sativabags.com/HempInfo

Two of the links in my notes were no longer valid. One was totally useless, so I didn’t include it. I couldn’t get to the specific link of the second one, but I was able to give the site’s homepage. Sources for new information are included in the body of the text.

 

Avenue of the Giants

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I did not take this photo.

We were traveling north from Laytonville, California to drop off the young French Canadian man who needed to go to Redding to catch a bus to Oregon. Mr. Carolina was driving my van, and we’d just left Garberville.

The young French Canadian man (whom I’ll call Pierre to protect his privacy and because I can’t remember his real name) had been doing trim work in Northern California. (For those who don’t know, folks get paid to trim the leaves off marijuana buds. Lots of folks travel to Northern California during harvest season in hopes of getting lucrative employment trimming weed.)

Mr. Carolina and I had met Pierre the night before in Laytonville while waiting to hear from Sweet L’s dad. Mr. Carolina was on a mission to return a hand-carved pipe to Sweet L’s dad; my van was the transport vessel, and I was honored to be along for the ride. While waiting in a parking lot, we were eating the cheese I’d acquired by standing in front of the tiny town’s one grocery store panhandling, (quite literally) asking shoppers, Spare change for cheese? A kind woman handed me a $10 bill, and I promptly went inside and bought a block of cheddar. As Mr. Carolina and I were partaking of the cheesy goodness, Pierre strolled by the van, and I invited him to our cheese party.

It turned out he was trying to get to Redding to catch the aforementioned bus. He had money (thanks to the aforementioned trim job, I presume) to catch a bus in some little town before Redding, but said he’d rather travel with us and would help pay for gas.

Mr. Carolina didn’t have anything planned after he completed his pipe returning mission. He’d been talking about the magical Mt. Shasta, and I wanted to see it, but we hadn’t made any decisions. I wanted to stay with him as long as possible, so I was down with going to Redding. A trip to Redding would not only prolong my time with Mr. Carolina, but it would get us closer to Mt. Shasta.

We spent the night at the nearest rest area, me in my bed, Mr. Carolina on the van’s floor, and Pierre in his tent, set up a little way into the wooded area surrounding the parking spots and restrooms. We hit the road in the morning and headed to Garberville to gas up and decide how to proceed.

There were traveler kids everywhere in Garberville, and Pierre found some French Canadians with whom to speak his native tongue. I went into a hemp store, and the woman working there (the proprietor?) was downright rude to me. We didn’t linger in the town, but were soon back on Highway 101.

With Mr. Carolina at the wheel, I was free to sit in a middle seat and munch almonds. Suddenly I saw an exit labeled “Avenue of the Giants.” Can we go there? I asked. Please. Let’s go there!

During our travels, Mr. Carolina often asked me what I wanted to do, but I seldom had a strong preference and was usually content to go along with the whims of others. I can only assume Mr. Carolina was pleased to help me fulfill a definite desire.

He took the exit, and we soon found ourselves traveling a narrow road rimmed with the tallest, most majestic trees I had ever seen: The Redwoods.

I did not take this photo either. I wish I had taken this photo.

I’d heard of the redwoods, or course, and seen photos, but this was my first time among them. The golden light filtered in through the leaves above us, and I thought maybe we’d crossed through a portal and into a magical dreamland.

Without warning, Mr. Carolina pulled off the road into a spot barely big enough for the van. We jumped out, and Mr. Carolina led us across the narrow highway to a giant redwood that had been uprooted and was lying on its side. Mr. Carolina showed me I could enter the tree from the end that was once in the earth. I crawled inside and sat quietly inside the tree. I felt surrounded by purity. The air was clean and moist and felt good to breathe. I took deep breaths and within a few minutes felt like I was tripping on acid. I honestly felt as if my reality was altered, as if I were experiencing a higher state of clarity, a higher state of awareness. I felt absolutely blessed by the sheer beauty I was experiencing and began to cry with joy.

I knew in my deepest heart that if the boys took the van and left me there, that I would be ok, that I’d be nourished by the air, and I’d live a clean, pure life unencumbered by the trappings of Babylon.

(It’s ok if you need to pause a moment and shake your head and sneer hippie.)

Of course, the boys didn’t take my van and leave me there. The came back to me after they’d finished their explorations, and we departed together.

I did a little research, and according to http://www.roadtripamerica.com/GettingOutThere/Avenue-of-the-Giants.htm,

[t]he Avenue of the Giants is a thirty-two mile scenic byway that parallels US-101 about thirty-five miles south of Eureka, California. The road was originally built as a stagecoach and wagon road in the 1880s and roughly follows the South Fork of the Eel River…The road meanders through the Humboldt Redwoods State Park, a redwood preserve of nearly 52,000 acres that includes over 17,000 acres of “old growth” (never been logged) coast redwood trees.