The trip was, overall, a good time. We arrived without mishap, though it was a rather harrowing journey. Coming to a stoplight on Hwy 12, the truck died and would not restart. Ack! What to do? And I couldn't even find my hazard lights, so I motioned the cars behind me around while frantically turning the key and dialing AAA. Before AAA had a chance to answer, though, the engine caught. If ever I have said "Praise the Lord!" it was probably then. Next, in rapidly slowing traffic on 101, I heard a metallic crashing noise very close behind me and, thinking the Airstream was having a meltdown, looked in my mirror to see that a car that was previously right behind me had hit another car in the left lane, and both were spinning into the median. Yikes! Hope the people were okay. Onward, I chose what looked like a good route on the map, Hwy 116 I believe it was. In reality it was an ultra-narrow road with hairpin turns. I had to pull over at least once to let people by, as I was travelling at a turtle's pace. I was worried that I might actually scrape the trailer against the cliff faces on the right turns. By the time I arrived in camp, I needed a masseuse! But finding the Casini Ranch campground was no problem, and as I came up the road, the many shiny silver trailers visible across the river made it clear I was in the right place.

Ray and Sherry
The encampment was mostly deserted because everybody was on the marine lab tour, but luckily, a fellow camper came over to help me in back into my space. Later, the Airstreamers returned and soon happy hour began. I mustered my courage to walk over to the group, but within minutes Satchel picked a fight with Lorin's border collie. Headed home in disgrace, I spotted Ray, the fellow who had helped me park earlier. He pulled out a lawn chair for me and we chatted about Airstreams and politics, and about being at our first rally and not knowing anybody. He helped me light my hot water heater (just took a little patience) and the range (turns out there's a gas valve under the stovetop - unmentioned by the manual). His girlfriend, Sherry, who seemed very nice, arrived the next day, and more trailers filtered in during the evening.

Mike, Noel, Fox, and Sky
Friday morning, I met some of my new neighbors, including Mike, who lives in Davis and works for the Nature Conservancy. He had just gotten one of his Airstreams repaired, based on my recommendation, at Executive Air Repair. He was attending the rally with his wife, twin 3 or 4-year-olds, and three dogs, all packed into the smallest Airstream ever made, the 15-foot (ball to bumper) Cruisette. They had polished a peace symbol into the side of their trailer, and I liked them very much even if the kids were a little noisy. I also met former VAC webmaster RJ, whom I knew through the email, and his wife Krista and their West Highland terrier. They had sought me out, identifying my trailer by its new skin section.

Sonoma Cutrer winery
At Sonoma Cutrer
In the afternoon, I decided to go along on the tour of the Sonoma Cutrer winery, but couldn't decide what to do with Satchel. I ended up bringing him along and leaving him in the truck, but after I had been on half of the tour (almost an hour), I went to check on him and found that the meager shade had moved entirely, so, worried about him getting too hot, I skipped the second half of the tour (including the wine tasting!) Sonoma Cutrer has an experimental area in which they are growing grapes biodynamically, based on the teachings of Rudolph Steiner. They time things to the phases of the moon, and they use compost made of old vine cuttings and cow manure and such. This compost material is packed into hollowed-out bull horns (chosen for their shape, which is perfect for communing with the universe) and buried for 6 months before being applied to the ground. Pretty nuts in my book, but it did make for an entertaining tour.
Potluck
The girls were smart: desserts vanished quickly!
Friday evening was the potluck. I brought sliced heirloom tomatoes garnished with fresh milk mozzarella, basil, and balsamic vinegar. (My mother had expressed concern that this dish would be too sophisticated for the occasion, but I reminded her I wasn't going to a Winnebago convention.) It turned out that somebody else actually brought the exact same thing, but it was okay, because it all disappeared. Other choices were barbecued salmon, jambalaya, Caesar salad, prawn salad, lasagna, homemade macaroni & cheese, and many other interesting dishes. The group descended on the food like a plague of locusts. I sat with a couple from Folsom and some other people, all of whom seemed very nice. Many people appeared impressed that I was there by myself - throughout the weekend, I got lots of "you tow that yourself?!" kind of comments. They all seemed completely well-intentioned, but I felt very conspicuous.

The Haworths' Aljoa
Saturday was the Open House, in which everybody had a chance to peek inside everybody else's trailers. With approximately 65 vintage units in attendance, and lots of chatty people, it was a good thing that a full four hours was allotted for this activity. As it was, I only managed to get through about half. Most of the lookers were rally attendees, but there also were a number of unfamiliar faces. One couple who stopped by my Safari had come all the way from Washington State just for the Open House, to research what model Airstream to buy.

The Dows' Globetrotter
The trailers, which included some SOBs as well as Airstreams, were in varying stages of refurbishment, so those people (like myself) who hadn't gotten very far didn't have to feel out of place even though so many were so beautifully fixed up, and sporting little touches like stew simmering on the stove or swing music playing. Most restorations, like Tim and Pam Haworth's 1950 Aljoa shown above left, were in period style, but a few, such as Chris and Leslie Dow's '64 Globetrotter, displayed a modernist sensibility. I definitely got a renewed push to get some things done on mine!

At Duncans Mills
Utah Bill drew rave reviews. In fact, when a rumor got around that I was planning to repaint, I had to reassure people that there would be no change to the color scheme. Saturday evening, I decided to prepare for an early departure rather than attending the group dinner. (I figured that with a couple hundred people there, I wouldn't be missed, but of course I was forgetting my conspicuousness!) One surprise came when I found that, just washing hands and dishes, I had exactly filled my 15-gallon gray (blue) tank. And then the awful realization of just how much 15 gallons of water weighs dawned on me. I was bound and determined not to ask for help in getting the damn thing into the truck bed, but I almost gave up before I hit on the notion of pulling it up as opposed to lifting it from the ground. Ta-da! But I did have to give up on trying to hitch using this ping-pong ball contraption I bought. It got me close, but not close enough. Since it was getting dark, I gave up and in the morning enlisted Ray to help me. The trip home was smooth sailing. Would I go again, you ask? Yep, I'm already watching the email for the Spring Silver Trailer Social sign-up!
For the "official" version of rally events and lots more photos, click here. (This will take you off my site to pages I designed as the "rally reporter" for the VAC site.)

Ray and Sherry The encampment was mostly deserted because everybody was on the marine lab tour, but luckily, a fellow camper came over to help me in back into my space. Later, the Airstreamers returned and soon happy hour began. I mustered my courage to walk over to the group, but within minutes Satchel picked a fight with Lorin's border collie. Headed home in disgrace, I spotted Ray, the fellow who had helped me park earlier. He pulled out a lawn chair for me and we chatted about Airstreams and politics, and about being at our first rally and not knowing anybody. He helped me light my hot water heater (just took a little patience) and the range (turns out there's a gas valve under the stovetop - unmentioned by the manual). His girlfriend, Sherry, who seemed very nice, arrived the next day, and more trailers filtered in during the evening.	Mike, Noel, Fox, and Sky Friday morning, I met some of my new neighbors, including Mike, who lives in Davis and works for the Nature Conservancy. He had just gotten one of his Airstreams repaired, based on my recommendation, at Executive Air Repair. He was attending the rally with his wife, twin 3 or 4-year-olds, and three dogs, all packed into the smallest Airstream ever made, the 15-foot (ball to bumper) Cruisette. They had polished a peace symbol into the side of their trailer, and I liked them very much even if the kids were a little noisy. I also met former VAC webmaster RJ, whom I knew through the email, and his wife Krista and their West Highland terrier. They had sought me out, identifying my trailer by its new skin section.
At Sonoma Cutrer In the afternoon, I decided to go along on the tour of the Sonoma Cutrer winery, but couldn't decide what to do with Satchel. I ended up bringing him along and leaving him in the truck, but after I had been on half of the tour (almost an hour), I went to check on him and found that the meager shade had moved entirely, so, worried about him getting too hot, I skipped the second half of the tour (including the wine tasting!) Sonoma Cutrer has an experimental area in which they are growing grapes biodynamically, based on the teachings of Rudolph Steiner. They time things to the phases of the moon, and they use compost made of old vine cuttings and cow manure and such. This compost material is packed into hollowed-out bull horns (chosen for their shape, which is perfect for communing with the universe) and buried for 6 months before being applied to the ground. Pretty nuts in my book, but it did make for an entertaining tour.	The girls were smart: desserts vanished quickly! Friday evening was the potluck. I brought sliced heirloom tomatoes garnished with fresh milk mozzarella, basil, and balsamic vinegar. (My mother had expressed concern that this dish would be too sophisticated for the occasion, but I reminded her I wasn't going to a Winnebago convention.) It turned out that somebody else actually brought the exact same thing, but it was okay, because it all disappeared. Other choices were barbecued salmon, jambalaya, Caesar salad, prawn salad, lasagna, homemade macaroni & cheese, and many other interesting dishes. The group descended on the food like a plague of locusts. I sat with a couple from Folsom and some other people, all of whom seemed very nice. Many people appeared impressed that I was there by myself - throughout the weekend, I got lots of "you tow that yourself?!" kind of comments. They all seemed completely well-intentioned, but I felt very conspicuous.
The Haworths' Aljoa Saturday was the Open House, in which everybody had a chance to peek inside everybody else's trailers. With approximately 65 vintage units in attendance, and lots of chatty people, it was a good thing that a full four hours was allotted for this activity. As it was, I only managed to get through about half. Most of the lookers were rally attendees, but there also were a number of unfamiliar faces. One couple who stopped by my Safari had come all the way from Washington State just for the Open House, to research what model Airstream to buy.	The Dows' Globetrotter The trailers, which included some SOBs as well as Airstreams, were in varying stages of refurbishment, so those people (like myself) who hadn't gotten very far didn't have to feel out of place even though so many were so beautifully fixed up, and sporting little touches like stew simmering on the stove or swing music playing. Most restorations, like Tim and Pam Haworth's 1950 Aljoa shown above left, were in period style, but a few, such as Chris and Leslie Dow's '64 Globetrotter, displayed a modernist sensibility. I definitely got a renewed push to get some things done on mine!
Utah Bill drew rave reviews. In fact, when a rumor got around that I was planning to repaint, I had to reassure people that there would be no change to the color scheme.	Saturday evening, I decided to prepare for an early departure rather than attending the group dinner. (I figured that with a couple hundred people there, I wouldn't be missed, but of course I was forgetting my conspicuousness!) One surprise came when I found that, just washing hands and dishes, I had exactly filled my 15-gallon gray (blue) tank. And then the awful realization of just how much 15 gallons of water weighs dawned on me. I was bound and determined not to ask for help in getting the damn thing into the truck bed, but I almost gave up before I hit on the notion of pulling it up as opposed to lifting it from the ground. Ta-da! But I did have to give up on trying to hitch using this ping-pong ball contraption I bought. It got me close, but not close enough. Since it was getting dark, I gave up and in the morning enlisted Ray to help me. The trip home was smooth sailing. Would I go again, you ask? Yep, I'm already watching the email for the Spring Silver Trailer Social sign-up! For the "official" version of rally events and lots more photos, click here. (This will take you off my site to pages I designed as the "rally reporter" for the VAC site.)