Have finally recooperated enough from the weekend that I have time to tackle 
the Bodega trip report.  There were 12 vans in attendance at the Dunes state 
park, with the first to arrive being Bill Moseley, Prunemeister, and I.  We 
three went up in a caravan from Berkeley, using Bradley's commercial radios 
(sort of like CB).  There was a lot of "breaker, breaker" lingo which left me 
clueless, but I tried to sound like I knew what I was doing.  Once I figured 
out that no red light meant I was not transmitting, I began to understand why 
no one was answering all my questions!  After that, we had fun comparing our 
oil pressure and temperature readings, as well as testing out each other's rear 
brake lights and turn signals.  In fact, I found this method of communication 
so invaluable, I think it would be wise for the group at large to eventually 
decide on some sort of system to use on future such outings/caravans, and for 
us each in time to purchase/borrow a unit from that system, making us all 
compatible.  

Upon approach to the not-too-smart park ranger's kiosk, we spied that 
beautiful bring orange westy bread loaf.  Some of us drooled instantly:  Jack 
Stafford and his raspberry homebrew!  We all promptly checked in (even this was 
nearly too confusing for the ranger), and set about picking a site.  For me the 
order of priority was of course:  showers, bathrooms, AC, firepit.  We opted 
for several adjacent spaces and set about trying to thoroughly confuse the 
rangers by leaving various cars and pieces of camping equipment in sites we 
liked, without bothering to check in to them.  This by the way doesn't 
officially reserve a spot, but it kept things tied up in red tape long enough, 
so that most of our members had a good space by the time the park figured out 
(or gave up figuring out) what we were up to.  Too, it helps to have one story 
for the camp-host, one for security, and one for the rangers.  By the time we 
finished with them, they were shaking their heads and saying something about 
the need for a "consistency" meeting.  That was AFTER they stole my lawn chair.

Jeff Schneiter and his wonderful dog Argo arrived soon thereafter.  As you may 
recall, J's bus is presently not running, and I believe still for sale, so he 
came up in his gorgeous blue Honda, which gets btw an very enviable 40 mpg.  He 
cleverly drew the VW logo on his dusty rear window, so that we knew instantly 
he belonged to us.

We all set about unpacking camping/cooking/etc. supplies.  It was decided that 
the space with the largest open pit and surrounding sandy sitting area would be 
the communal meet, and that we'd save this for the late nite arrivers, Steve 
Johnson and Thom Fitzpatrick.  In the middle of setting up camp, Lee and Cindy 
Wood arrived in their '81 westy.  Being new first-timers to these campouts, 
they were exceedingly well-behaved.  Most of the rest of us, for example, 
brought whatever scrap wood we could dig out, where as Lee and Cindy brought 
some beautiful bagged material.  Later, this came affectionaly to be known as 
"Wood wood."  We spent some time checking out each other's vans and mods.  Lee 
and Cindy had a nice awning, and a neat T-routing of propane from their tank to 
attach at will to their Olympian catalyic heater.  I finally learned from them 
how my rear drapes are SUPPOSED to be installed.

Throughout the day, more campers filtered in, including Don Kane, and his son 
William, who would come to learn "everything you always wanted to know about 
fires and melting points, but were afraid to ask" before the trip was over.  
While these people were arriving, no one seemed to be paying much attention to 
Bradley, who was over by the fire hacking away at this and that.  A wild, 
raging, uncontrolled look in his eye went undetected as he axed away at this 
and that surrpetitiously.

Soon, a nice campfire was going, and gourmets of the group begain to emerge.  
This list seems to be blessed with an unbelievable amount of good cooks!  Bill 
Moseley started in on making some wonderful home-made cardamom ice cream.  That 
it took 24 hours to freeze and cure is no fault of Bill's  :).  Steve Johnson 
proved beyond a doubt to all of us that he could make deviled eggs without 
Linda, although I still think we REALLY need her on these events to bring along 
everything everyone else always forgets and to keep us calm.

Marcus and Ute Doherr arrived with their son Malte, and surprise - we DO have 
real Germans on the list.  Also being new to these campouts, they decided to 
take one of the outer spaces, thinking that their son Malte might be noisy.  
Little did they know that it was the REST OF US who were the badly behaved 
noisy ones.

At past vanagon outings, we all tend to sit around the campfire until the wee 
hours of the morning.  On Friday however, this turned into a comedy of errors.  
It turned out that people kept leaving the fire ring momentarily to do this and 
that:  look for a working pay phone, take a walk, find restroom, take a shower, 
etc.  But in this instance, the timing somehow worked out badly, and each time 
someone would come back, no one would be there.  By the time I got back, the 
fire had nearly died down.  We couldn't find anyone and assumed that everyone 
had gone to bed:  VERY strange for this group, indeed.  Threw some more logs on 
the fire, pulled out more drinks (and gosh, Jack Stafford, that homebrew of 
yours is positively the BEST!  Jack made this fantastic raspberry and cherry 
ale, two flavors.  We fondly refer to it as "transporter porter."  :)  At any 
rate, just when I was ready to give up all hope, here comes Steve Johnson in 
his '91 westy, and Thom Fitzpatrick and Amy Burgess in their fabulous '56 
resto.  Let me say this bus is unbelievable.  Thom's reports to the list have 
been mighty modest - the paint job is to die for, not to mention the color.  
The attention to detail on this car is mind-boggling:  puts the pictures in the 
VW mags to shame, in my opinion.  Thom - PUHLEEZE paint my car for me!  Apart 
from appearances, I think Thom is still working on a few minor mechanical 
details with the bus.  Now that he's got it going, he needs to perfect how to 
"stop" the thing while at highway speeds.  I noticed him dressed in overalls 
and covered with grease at one point, so I guess something about why the car 
won't brake must have bothered him.  Or people in his caravan.

During snacking and dinner, something became suddenly wildly popular about 
feeding Argo, Jeff's dog.  I think we all had some notion that if we fed Argo 
enough junk, we'd either get in the Guiness book, or the fuel produced by 
Argo's indigestion would be sufficient to heat Jeff's tent thru the nite.  Not 
only was Jeff very tolerant of our mischief, he has the best seasoned camp 
cookpots, and cooked us a wonderful gourmet breakfast on Saturday morning.  
Trouble was I slept through most of it.  Were it not for Steve Johnson, Jack 
Stafford, Thom Fitzpatrick, and maybe some others (I couldn't quite see, 
because they all ran away so quickly), I never would have had any morning meal 
at all.  Anyway, these people kindly came over to "wake" me from sleeping in.  
The 10.8 richter scale quake in my van you made by rocking and tipping it while 
snoozing was really fun, guys.  I finally found all my clothes, had a shower, 
and did get some breakfast.  That was after I mopped up the wine, beer, water, 
etc. inside.  :)  Of course, I realize I invited this event by being 
instrumental in doing something similar the nite before to Steve's van.  Some 
of us decided it would be fun to tormet Steve, whom we thought was already 
asleep.  We tip-toed over to his westy and hysterically began rocking it and 
singing "99 bottles of beer on the wall."  Funny thing was that Steve wasn't IN 
his van, but rather down the road about 50 feet near the restrooms watching us 
all make fools of ourselves.  Anyway, Steve informed me that the only reason 
they tipped my van was to make his promised delivery of the flue vents.  Hey, 
you turkeys:  I "owe" one!  :)  All I can say, is thank god I didn't have a 
porti-potty in there.

This is all a little out of order, but you get the idea.  Perhaps the most 
entertaining part of the trip was the rangerette coming by around midnight 
Friday, wondering what that explosive bright light was in our campsite, that 
they had seen from clear across the park on the other side.  The reason for the 
hysteria in Prunehead's eyes had become apparent.  We thought he had been 
hacking particularly tough wood, but it turned out to be an engine case.  He 
wanted to see what happened when magnesium burned.  With the aid of a multitude 
of spirits and various substances, plus some special glacier glasses which 
block out 90 percent of glare, this was one awesome fire!  Typical of the IQ we 
were beginning to recognize in Calif. park personnel, the ranger wanted to know 
what magnesium was, IF this fire was outside the pit (do they let blind rangers 
drive??), and if the fire was hot.  DUH.  She also wanted to know whose 
campsite this was, and of course we all immediately pointed to Steve, who had 
only arrived just about 30 minutes before.  She informed S. that this fire 
could constitute a $750 fine, but hey, Steve, wasn't it worth it?!?  I mean, 
the flames, the drama, the heat, the massiveness of the whole experience!?

It was just a matter of time before our curiosity got the better of us.  There 
was this "need to know:"  what would burn, what wouldn't, how hot would it get, 
how long would it take, what color would it make, would the park rangers 
notice, etc.  If in doubt, we burned it.  Everything.  Lawn chairs, beer cans, 
beans, you name it.  

In the middle of the best yet engine case fire (we had SEVERAL), Jack Stafford 
quietly brought out these magnificient rockets he made, and launched them into 
the sky.  They were way cooler than NASA's.  I don't understand the mechanics 
of these things, but I was so impressed by them I suggested that Jack bring a 
lot of them next time INSTEAD of his potluck or homebrew contribution.

On Saturday nite, we helped celebrate Bradley's edging into the second quarter 
centry of his life.  This was done with the scrumptuous cheesecakes from the 
Doherrs.  We had put trick candles in them, but of course rather than blowing 
them out like he was supposed to, Prunehead instead pinched them out with 
fingers dipped in beer.  Sacrilege!  That some stupid racoons happened to 
traipse thru these cheesecakes during the nite is a commentary on how 
wonderfully resilient and strong they were.  Anyway, after Steve took some of 
it home to Linda  - what a guy.  a

I mentioned that I would take up the laptop and try for net access.  
Unfortunately this was not possible.  There was no phone source nearby, and I 
learned that the only two existing pay phones in the park were out of order - 
another testament to the IQ of our rangers!  :)  On day 2, several of us drove 
to outings, and I placed a call to home from nearby Wright's beach.  Sarah told 
me that Al Knoll had phoned and the message he'd left on my tape was "tell 
people to bring everything."  I couldn't make any sesne of this, and upon 
asking the opinion of others in the group, decided this must mean that Al 
couldn't make it to Bodega after all, so that we should go out and get food if 
we didn't feel like eating curried salsa and beans for breakfast.  Thinking 
that Al Knoll would not be coming, I told Bradley of his birthday present we 
all pitched in (or were supposed to) $.50 each to Al to get:  The Prune Gourmet 
cookbook.  B:  we are all expecting a mighty fancy prune curry dish as the next 
outing!  At any rate, 2 minutes after spilling that story, up drives Al, whose 
message Sarah had completely misunderstood.  Al:  we owe you a big debt of 
gratitude.  You barely got to camp much time at all, and then you had to work 
all those hours cooking us another fancy gourmet breakfast.  Thanks a lot!  I'd 
like to point out that this was a real treat indeed, as Al made us orange 
cinnamon rolls, baked in the Coleman oven atop the stove.

Although we couldn't get phone access, we did manage tapping into the 
electrical supply in the mens' room.  This was used to power Don Kane's great 
sound system.  We all enjoyed listening to the Greateful Dead, some classic 
Beatles, etc.  It also supplied juice for my vacuum and flowbee.  I'm only 
sorry that not more of you agreed to succumb to its powers.  Thom:  I think it 
will all grow out ok, and you'll never notice a thing after a couple of months. 
 Thanks for being such a good sport and guinea pig.    

It was unanimously decided that for B's birthday next year we should all pitch 
in the get him a real fireman's outfit/hat/etc from the southbay town of 
Prunedale.  Seems fitting.  

Argo the dog finally had it with all our antics and began chasing a skunk.  
The next I saw people were frantically looking around for some tomato juice 
with which to bath him.  I believe I heard that we didn't have any, so someone 
made up some spaghetti sauce, and Argo got a bath with that.  What a great dog. 
 He plays frisbee in the ocean better than any creature I've ever encountered.

It was fun to see old friends and make new ones.  I also liked many of your 
mods, and have already been working on this and that in my van, getting ready 
to try and catch a few days of the end of GNATT as it passes thru California 
next week.  I'm still envious of Lee and Cindy's, and Al's awnings, and Al's 
pyromid stove.  These events are a wonderful way to share/exchange ideas, info, 
etc.  I must formally apologize to Vivian Kane for my merciless teasing about 
her love for bacon and sausage, which she took like a trooper.  Vivian:  you 
and your brother can tip over my van next time, ok?  :)

/martha

/