Date: 05 Sep 1995 15:16:15 EST
Sender: Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From: "Tom Forhan" <TFORHAN@hr.house.gov>
Subject: SSWMDAA Trip Report (Unabridged)
August 16: Arrived in Pendleton OR to find the Silver Syncro Westie
(SSW) pretty much as advertised. The new 27x8.5x14 All Terrain tires
had been installed already, and the SSW looked great. Took a short
drive, trying everything out, and noticed an antifreeze kinda smell
coming from the rear heater when it was turned on. Drove to Obies, the
local VW place, where we got a connecting piece which allowed us to
disconnect the hoses, bypass the heater, and leave town.
Climbed a very big hill to Union, OR, where we met with Jim Arnott and
his family. Jim is the listmember who first noticed the SSW on a local
used car lot. He pointed us in the direction of our first campsite, a
lovely state park alongside a stream. I could not get the
refridgerator started following the manual's instructions.
Another Vanagon Westie was there, the owner showed us his tricks about
getting the little devil going, which worked fine and has never failed
us since.
August 17. A beautiful drive through the mountains and into the
eastern Oregon desert. Midafternoon, everything running fine, although
we were getting serious buffeting from desert winds. Suddenly, the
engine cuts out hard, but only momentarily, twice, and then regains
full power. I have a sick feeling in my stomach as I pull over to the
side of the road in the middle of nowhere. A quick look at the engine,
all wires, cables, etc connected and tight, engine runs fine...a
mystery ... more later. Spent the night in Klamath Falls, OR, where we
woke to a 35 degree morning. A refreshing change from Washington DC.
August 18. A leisurely, uneventful drive down into California. Spent
the night at a low key, state run riverside campground between
Sacramento and Fresno.
August 19. Bought a detailed map of Tulare and Kern counties. Then
took a sentimental (?) journey to the hamlet of Woodville, CA, in the
San Joaquin Valley. I spent a college summer there, working at
a medical clinic. Looked for signs of the only car I ever actually
walked away from in disgust, a 1962 (?) Austin America sedan, and
found the burnt out hulk, behind a former gas station where I left it.
Then drove through Three Rivers, CA to Sequoia Nat'l Park, and the
next morning went backpacking.
August 25. Out of the wilderness, and into the showers. Refreshed and
using the local map, found a tiny two track road, through gorgeous
giant trees, down from Sequoia leaving us in the foothills northeast
of Visalia. Lunch at a great mexican restaurant, reprovision
at the most outrageous Walmart ever seen (includes a McDonalds inside
the store, turns out the town is also the site of a major Walmart
distribution center, and this is sort of a test location) in
Porterville, and then headed east toward a route across the mountains
shown in our local map, but not on the Rand McNally map of California.
Climbing up a pass at slow speed, heard a very faint knocking, but it
disappears before we can identify it. Spent the night on the Kern
River, in a beautiful high desert campsite.
August 26: After making local inquires, head east, for a two lane
switchback delite that has us climbing to 9200 feet and a wonderful
view of Mt. Whitney fifty miles to the north. The downhill takes us
to US 395, and we head north, then east to Death Valley. After
numerous climbs, we reach DV, where it was 106 in the shade. Clearly,
the Vanagon Syncro cooling system is up to the task, which includes
keeping us in the A/C on all but the longest climbs. I do not like the
lack of numerical data from that water temp guage, so whenever the
cooling fan goes on full, the A/C goes off.
Climbing out of Death Valley, at the aforementioned air temperature,
the aforementioned knocking returns. I stick my head out the window;
its coming from the drivers side front wheel area. I try to not think
about CV joints, much less mention the possibility.
My six year old son says "What's that noise?" indicating to me that it
is no longer so faint.
My wife recalls hearing a noise like that in Africa, when she was
driving a Citroen 2CV pickup truck. "I can't remember what they
called it, some sort of axle-arm thing, but it was expensive...".
"How about 'CV', or 'constant velocity joint'?" I ask, allowing myself
to actually mouth the dreaded words.
"Well, that was Cameroon, French speaking." No doubt remembering the
article on Syncros she translated from German earlier this year, she
finishes " Automotive terms don't seem to translate easily or
directly."
I have slowed down a tad; the sound gets fainter, and then disappears.
We arrive safely in Las Vegas a few hours later, and install ourselves
at the local KOA. Our camping area neighbors include a young German
couple in a Mercedes Benz Gelandewagen (a very high dollar SUV) with
German plates, he comes over to say hi and mentions that our cars were
built at the same factory.
I call Joel, get his surly answering machine, and leave a message. I
call hourly, and the line is busy. Finally, at 11:50 east
coast time, he answers. After a long and interesting discussion,
including vocal imitations of sound effects made by bearings and CV
joints in various forms of distress far superior to anything done by
Tom and Ray of Car Talk, he concludes: "Get a place that has the tool
to inject grease between the axle and the boot, add 6 or 8 oz, and
you'll be OK till you get home...".
August 27: I spent part of Sunday going around/calling around the
various Las Vegas auto repair places that advertise "Open Sunday",
getting no knowledgable responses for my request to inject grease into
the CV. Looked in the Yellow pages for VW and Porsche specialists and
found one called the Beetle Barn, open at 7:30 M-F.
Spent the afternoon at "The Strip", mostly at the Luxor pyramid, which
has much more of a family orientation than we had expected. Everyone
had a pleasant afternoon and evening.
August 28: Top off the water, fuel and propane, and head over to the
Beetle Barn. This is a GREAT place, a combo junkyard/shop/used car
sales, all VW. About 2 acres of dry country cars...they knew exactly
what I was asking for, did all the CVs and had us out of the super
clean shop in 1/2 an hour, and the total bill was about $21.00. Did
not hear the slightest bump for the rest of the trip.
We begin a high mileage day. North on 15 from Vegas up on a mesa of
sort, we get desert crosswinds, buffetting, and a mild case of the
missing/bucking we experienced in Oregon. We start a long down hill,
and the missing stops.
Onward to St.George, Utah, where we get off the Interstate for the
next three days. Through Zion Nat'l Park, then back down into
Arizona, heading for Monument Valley. We reach the fabled land as the
sun drops low, for a spectacular drive. But it is starting to get dark
and we cannot just camp on Navajo reservation land...what is the
closest spot? Hovenweep National Monument, says the map, whatever that
is.
Well, what looks easy on the map always has the potential for an
adventure. Its about 25 miles away as the crow flies, but in this part
of the world even the crows, with their mystical powers, could not fly
a straight line. We drive in a east, then north, then northwest, then
west, climbing mesas and descending into canyons, only to climb again.
The road turns from oiled gravel, to gravel, to gravel washboard
onwhich we cannot exceed 12 miles an hour without shaking ourselves to
death. The washboard stops, and as the light fails, we pass an old
shuttered trading post and the road begins to follow the canyon floor,
graded not by Caterpillar but by flash floods.
Still, each time we are about to declare ourselves lost and turn back,
another "Hovenweep ->" sign appears out of the darkness. After about
fifteen miles on the canyon floor, we start to climb again, the road
turns to asphalt, and we come to "<- Hovenweep Campground". There are
thirtythree sites, and only two occupied. Home for the night.
August 29: First, we have to discover what Hovenwweep is...it is
a National Monument established in 1926 to protect six Anastazi
sites in the general area. The Anastazi are the "Old Ones", the cliff
dwellers who inhabited this area until about 1200 AD, when they
abandoned the area, which subsequently was occupied by the Navajos.
The ranger gives us the usual brochures, and tells us the sites are
either accessible on foot, or, for thse with four wheel drive, by
two track trails. What a coincidence, we think, and abandon our plans
for another high mileage day. We spend a day with the Anasazi. Our
favorite site was called Canyon, a tiny village set along the edge of
a tiny canyon on top of a mesa. All very suitable to exploration by a
six year old, and we had the site to ourselves, "discovering" towers,
caves, a spring, and pictographs on the walls.
In the afternoon, on to Mesa Verde Nat'l Park, to see the classic,
giant Cliff Palace, which I had visited as a child, and to spend the
night.
August 30: East through Durango and an 10,827 foot pass, and then into
the San Luis valley of Colorado, watered by the Rio Grande and settled
from the south by Hispanics following the river north from New Mexico.
Then one more hump, and we are out of the Rockies. With a few
secondary roads, we connect with old Route 50. We continue east to
Garden City Kansas, home of huge dusty cattle feeding lots, meat
processing plants, and natural gas pumping stations. We feel we have
met the industrial arm of the new west.
August 31. After breakfast and a walking tour of Dodge City, Kansas,
we head north east, and by noon are back onto the great mileage maker,
the Interstate. This time it is 70, and we travel to Columbia
Missouri, a pleasant college town. We award ourself a night in a
motel. It is the only day we did not see at least one other Type II.
September 1. Plenty of time in the pool for our son, while we take
care of logistics and laundry. At noon, we head for St. Louis, and
Busses By The Arch. We arrive mid-afternoon.
The event has a secluded campground in a grove of trees all to itself.
No non-VWs past the checkpoint. There are busses and kids and people
and a pool. Colin makes several friends and they form a rat pack 'til
we leave the next day. Michele is out comparing Vanagons and Campers,
answering all her detail questions, such as "Does only the drivers
side windshield wiper have the aerodynamic wing (yes). She also falls
in love with a beautiful, original '67 camper with tent. Unrestored,
it looks about two years old. I discover a very nice '63 Deluxe
Microbus almost identical to the one I drove in college, and badly
want to sit in the front seat, to see what memories come forth.
Misquitos descend at dusk.
September 2. More busses arrived during the night, and the locals show
up this morning, including the lists own Sami Dakhlia. Total busses
is, I hear, 67. Late in the morning we gather for the caravan, and
drive through some beautiful country, as Sami has reported elsewhere.
After the picnic lunch, we depart from the crowd, and press on
regardless, recharged by all the people and busses at the event.
East on 70 again, we hit a wicked section of concrete pavement in
Ohio. Vehicle speed, pavement contition, and some wierd concurrance
between the wheelbase of the SSW and the concrete joints gets us into
a hobby horse sort of motion and, sure enouch, the SSW starts its
missing and bucking thing. I slow down, the motion eases and the
missing stops. I am convinced there is water in the tank that is below
the normal pickup point, that somehow gets sucked up when there is
sloshing in the tank caused by vehicle motion. Springfield Ohio for
the night.
September 3. Almost anticlimatic. We drive for seven hours over
familiar roads, and we are home. 4580 miles. The SSW is parked in our
driveway, acting like it belongs there. Some fun!
Tom Forhan
90 VW Syncro Westie
90 Audi 200 Turbo Quattro Wagon
87 Honda Civic 4WD Wagon
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