SOJOURN IN SOLVANG

Perhaps the nicest thing about owning our LazyDaze RV is not the rig itself, but the people we have met through it.  While the overall ownership base might well be deemed a “cult,” the individual members are some of the nicest people we’ve ever met.  In retrospect, we were unbelievably lucky when, on our first Caravan Club outing only a week after we picked up the rig, we were hosted as first-timers (to the Club) by one of its subgroups, the Past Tents.  We felt immediately at home with these folks, and felt no need to try out any of the other 8 or 9 sub-groups.  That was a decision we’ve not regretted.  Over the years we have developed close friendships that have enriched what would have been our “declining years.”  We’d have to say that we’ve been ascending all the way.

Last weekend we traveled to Solvang to join seven other Past Tents rigs (and occupants) as well as our host couple, Art and Barbara, at their beautiful home, which has a driveway long enough to fit all seven rigs (and then some)!  For privacy purposes, and to protect the innocents, I’m going to use only first names.  Hmmm, actually, there were no innocents.

First in were the short (23’) rigs, so that we could turn them sideways out of the way on the garage apron.  The hosts’ rig was in the garage.  We offloaded the scoot (that’s us, the gray).  Loni’s talking to Renee (of Larry & Renee), she of the blue rig behind.  The red belongs to John and Ilene.

Host Art kept a watchful eye for traffic as the longer rigs were called in from the Veteran’s Lodge parking lot to file in.

Eventually everyone was in line, leveled, and ready to party.  This was a 60th birthday party for Larry, and a 55th (!!) wedding anniversary for Gene and Sally.  We should all be that lucky.

Friday was spent yacking at full volume and getting prepped for the gourmet pot luck that evening.  That’s another great thing about this group:  they can cook!  Inventive stuff.  Healthy stuff.  Decadent stuff.  :>P  We ate ourselves silly, drank ourselves goofy, and generally annoyed the neighborhood to the wee hours. 

Saturday was do-it-yourself breakfasts, supplemented by pastry from one of the Solvang bakeries.  Yum.  The order of the day was a 38 mile drive out to Jalama Beach and the famed Jalama burger.  That’s the store and grill in the center of the photo.  No, I didn’t hire a hot-air balloon, this is off the internet.  Credits to somebody or other.

We had three Jeeps and 13 people, so we opted to take the scoot.  It’s a great ride on two wheels, the last fourteen miles are through uninhabited mountains with continuous curves, dips, and climbs.  I’m sure we had more fun than the Jeepers.  Once there we made a halfhearted stab at hiking up the beach, but the wind was blowing so hard it simply wasn’t going to be much fun.  Then there was the raging torrent (see above) that transected the beach.  No one wanted to get their shoes wet or to take them off, so we wimped out and, seeing that it was five past noon, decided it was time for burgers.  I have to say, they really were worth the drive, allegedly using local, grass-fed beef.  Whatever. Great sauce, a grilled bun, and we were in sloppy heaven.  Temporarily sated (there was dinner to think about, after all), we saddled up and retraced our steps back to Solvang.  Loni and I stopped off in town as they were having a car show that took up most of downtown.  Mostly 50’s-60’s classics and muscle cars

but my favorite was this ancient Austin with a V-8 stuffed where it shouldn’t oughta go.

 

While we were enjoying the show, the others were down the road at the local ostrich farm buying tomorrow’s breakfast centerpiece.  But first, there was dinner to tackle.  Everyone went all out.  There were huge grilled steaks, two big salmon, Loni’s Asian slaw-with-a-bite, a slew of interesting salads and side dishes, and a dozen or so bottles of wine.  Oh, nurse, take me now.  The pieces de resistance, however, were Barbara’s home-made triple-chocolate anniversary cake and kill-me-now birthday carrot cake.  One of each, please.  I didn’t dare say “hit me again,” but I wanted to.  Murgatroyd!

One of the Past Tents who couldn’t be present is recovering from very recent surgery for cancer.  Some not-to-be-named wacko decided it would be a good idea to make a humorous video to send to her to cheer her up.  Since her favorite song is some deservedly obscure ditty that consists of an endless chant of “put da lime in da coconut,” it was decided without any discernable vote that we would dress in “appropriate” costume and, er, dance around to the music.  Well, the less said about this the better.  And no pictures here.  Suffice to say that no video of a certain blogger and a grass skirt better go viral on the internet or there will be hell to pay!

Sunday morning was ostrich-egg scramble day.  This was, I believe, a first for all in attendance.  This beauty matches the efforts of 24 hens.  How’d you like to pass THAT?  Note operating instruments laid out and ready.

You don’t just rap it on the counter and pull the shell apart.  Heck, this thing came with detailed written instructions that required an engineering degree to fathom.  Just the ticket for our resident propeller-head, Larry, to tackle, with nurse Barbara assisting.  Donning appropriate gear, he set to work making the initial incision:

Air pressure via bendable straw is required to, ah, move things along, so to speak.  Note assistant reading the directions out loud.

Success!

Scrambled, they have an unusual texture, but they tasted just like hen’s eggs.  Julia Child cooking method scrupulously observed.  Porcine grillmaster Art (wait, that didn’t come out right) baked three pounds of bacon and I can testify that not a single piece went unet. 

Add in some ripe mangos, more delicious pastries from the bakery, juice and coffee and, well, we didn’t want to leave.  This is one fine resort, even if you do have to bring your own bed!  Thank you, Art and Barbara and all the gang.  A great weekend!