I must be in heaven; at least that’s how it feels right now. I am in warm, little #2 cottage at the Bend-Sunriver RV Campground.  This is my second attempt at writing tonight. When I checked in, I was told there was WiFi available in the “family room.”

 First, I rode to the cottage and promptly wedged the bike in an impossible position to get out, a biker faux pas. I asked a couple walking by for a little help in pulling the bike backwards just enough for me to clear a fence that was butting up against the front wheel.  After that embarrassment, I removed the bungees for at least the hundredth time and brought my stuff inside. I barely looked around and grabbed the computer and walked to the General Store for some dinner, consisting of two microwaved burritos and a bag of salted peanuts.  Oh, I can’t leave out a growler of beer from the Deschutes Brewery, but we’ll get back to that in a minute.

 The family room is a dimly lit, assembly of rustic wooden tables and some couches. Technology has not been my friend on this ride. If there is a possibility of something misfiring, it has. Time out: Bruddah Iz is singing White Sandy Beach of Hawaii. My wrestling match with WiFi was interrupted by a couple in their bathrobes, who came in to watch Survivor. I realized I could go back to the cottage and access the web through my phone, an invaluable piece of technology. OK, sometimes it works for me.  There was a definite mountain chill in the night air, which reminded me of my years in northern New Mexico, especially summer camping trips. It is funny how the senses are hot wired to memory.

 I opened the door and smiled. I was now in a wood paneled womb, light and warm. I dropped my things on the couch, closed the blinds, and put on a flannel shirt. I sat down on the red plaid, quilted bedding, feeling completely at ease for the first time on this adventure.

 I didn’t have too long a ride this morning from Klamath Falls to Bend. It was ONLY three hours. I was still wrestling with the discomfort from yesterday’s communications breakdown, not being able to get my pictures or audio. At the same time, I was thinking about reasons for doing this ride and the idea of living outside my comfort zone. Being uncomfortable is another way to look at it. Imagine if you were continually confronting your fears, whatever they are for you? Let me tell you, there is nothing heroic about this trip of mine. Honestly, it felt like it was something I needed to do and now I am doing it.

 I liked Klamath Falls very much. The town has a good feeling and I can’t say for sure why. I am at a time in my life where I am not inclined to dig too deeply. I have discarded the shovel of introspection for the simple weather vane of feeling. Before leaving for Bend, I dropped my bike at the intersection of Main Street and 8^th.  It is a classic image, a guy in black leather, standing over his motorcycle, engine moaning and resting on the road. My helplessness was extremely obvious and it only took a minute or two before a guy pulled over to help.

 The stretch of Hwy 97 between Klamath Falls and Bend runs through logging country and immense open stretches of land. The wind gets going pretty good, especially at high speeds. When the big rigs pass in the other direction, you brace for the inevitable inhale and exhale of their quick presence and absence. When the logging trucks rumble by, you can smell the fresh cut timber and the sap seeping from the wounds.

 When I got to Bend. I immediately went to an official Mac store for help with my damn phone. After about a half hour with a mechanic, he told me to call Apple for help. Imagine, you can now get better guidance from an invisible human on the phone, who can access everything, including what you had for breakfast. The only thing to do at that point was to ride over to the Deschutes Brewery for a beer.

 It was time to ride to Sunriver to check in for the night. Thousand Trails owns hundreds of RV campgrounds, many of which have little cabins. I stayed in one of their other locations, which was my first stop at Yosemite Lakes. They are incredibly well maintained and there is a sincere, friendly vibe, which I think is the nature of the RV tribe.

 Tomorrow, I ride back up to Bend to meet my friend, Michael. We met in Santa Fe about twenty-five years ago, when I promoted a concert series called Music in the Pines. He is bringing camping gear and we are going to spend the night in Detroit, no, not that Detroit!