How far are you willing to go for adventure? That’s an easy question with an easy answer: If you’re in Sacramento, you’re already halfway there! How’s this for a short list of easy day trips: Lake Tahoe, Yosemite, Lassen, San Francisco, the Pacific Ocean … the rest of the world literally drools over the locations in our own backyard. Sure, you can fire up the RV and go nationwide if you want to, but the point is, if you’re looking for adventure, you don’t have to. You’re already here!
Since you’re planning a big road trip, better collect some maps. You wouldn’t want to get lost. Sure, the Internet has everything all charted out—but Google Maps also tells you that the way to get to Paris is to swim across the Atlantic, so maybe paper maps are the way to go. Plus, kids love tracing things out and planning on paper. The California State Automobile Agency remains a great source for paper maps, and so long as you’re a member, you can have as many as you want. The choices are overwhelming, but you quickly rule out a cross-country road trip, at least. Nevertheless, you have to decide your level of ambition and choose a map accordingly:
A. If you’re living large, see 38, Travel.
B. For a more economic route, see 39, Travel.
Beneath a blazing sun, you and the fam wander the RV Travel World parking lot in south Sacramento, checking out the latest, state-of-the-art gas-guzzling behemoths. It’s bewilderingly hot, but there’s cool shade inside the gleaming RV trailers—if you can get past the sticker price on the outsides, which start at $20K. The accessories are mind-boggling: oak-look trim beds and cabinets, full dinettes, nicer entertainment centers than you have at home, gas fireplaces. What’s $39,995 (the advertised “manufacturer’s special"on a Wilderness Advantage AX6 Extreme Edition) compared to the priceless memories of having the ultimate family adventure? Only you, and perhaps your banker or loan shark, can decide.
You, the kids, the dog, camping gear (just in case) and a bunch of snacks are all loaded up with no place to go. Where to? As you chug along Highway 50, you remember that El Dorado County is home to a Farm Trails organization and to the site of the Gold Rush discovery. Take your pick!
Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape. The road to enlightenment leads north, up winding Highway 49 to Grass Valley, where you arrive at the Sivananda Ashram Yoga Farm. You are greeted by a stooped and wizened old man who begins your training immediately.
“Yoga you cannot do,” he says. “Natural state, yoga is. Resistance of natural state, yoga exercises reveal.”
You learn that what you’ve been resisting is what psychologists call the fight-or-flight response, and realize that you’ve been struggling against, or running away from it for most of your life.
However, you do remember a time that this wasn’t so, when you were lost in the woods as a small child. You weren’t really lost; the adults just couldn’t find you. You had followed a trail to a clearing in the trees, where you stood bathed in green light. It is the only time you ever really felt at peace with yourself and the world.
At Sivananda, you learn to turn off the fight-or-flight response and return to your natural state. You understand you will never find peace on the corporate path. You call your boss and say you’ve had an unexpected emergency and cash in your vacation days. After a month of outdoor yoga classes, vegetarian food and wading in the Yuba River, you discover a trail leading into the woods.
At long last, you and the fam are on the road to Coloma for some Gold Rush history! Brain-dead from summer heat, you relent and let the kids, enticed by mapping various Northern California courses, handle navigation. An hour and a half later, as you approach the Bay Bridge toll plaza, you suspect something has gone wrong—and 20 minutes after that, as you exit the freeway and look around at a sea of tombstones, you know it has. Your children’s navigational skills are flawless; their reading comprehension somewhat dyslexic. You’ve arrived in Colma—a town made up almost entirely of cemeteries, representing a very different sort of California history than you planned. You have quite literally reached the end.
You hang a left and head north toward Lassen, winding through the northern Sierras and stopping at lesser-known little campgrounds along the way. Stop beside sparkling Lake Almanor (watch out for the speed traps) just south of Chester and take a gander at Lassen’s still-snowcapped peak. In Lassen proper, you’ll find thinner crowds—mainly German tourists—and spectacular scenery. The kids even agree to go on a hike, since the Bumpass Hell trail’s name cracks them up whenever they see the sign. They’re even more enthralled with the boiling mud pots that line the trail. You all have a fabulous time, and rather than continuing on a circuit of the entire West, you decide to quit while you’re ahead. You drive back home, stopping along the way for more camping and some wading in mountain creeks. You arrive back in Sacramento refreshed, with great photos from an easy trip that was adventuresome all the same.
You head south to Yosemite, but you didn’t reckon it would be packed with traffic to the point of gridlock, and quite frankly you don’t really know how to maneuver the dang RV. Sure, there are natural wonders everywhere, but after just an hour of battling crowds and trying to figure out where you’ll stay and what you’ll do, everyone is grumpy, even the dog (who has been car sick the whole way). The plan to drive on to the Grand Canyon and eventually Yellowstone seems, well, insane. You’ve lost track of how many times the kids have beat on one another despite your repeated threats “to pull this vehicle over right now!” You’re the captain of this ship, and before El Capitan is ever in sight, you’re coming about 180 degrees (in what amounts to a 23-point turn in your lumbering leviathan) and tacking a new course back home. By the time you arrive in Sacramento, the dog has had three more accidents, you’re in debt up to your eyeballs and the kids are about to murder each other—if you don’t take care of them first. Hey, no one said all adventures are a kick. It’s not like you didn’t have a choice.
