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Chapter 2: Preparations
Over the next several months I began asking a question of the many executives that I was meeting in the plastics industry. Many top executives in the aerospace industry were my regular sales contacts regarding plastic boxes and custom formed plastic parts. I was only 22 but I had been force fed the plastics language and I could hold my own with the best of the sales sharks.
These 55 and 60 year old executives gave me respect and many had become my friends, although I felt many were trying to be surrogate father to me after the loss of my own father. On a regular basis I began to ask these older and wiser business icons, “Did you ever have a great adventure that you wanted to take?” Without fail, they would lean back in their over-stuffed executive chair, put their feet up on the corner of the desk and with a foggy look in their eye describe any number of wild youthful adventures they had dreamed about as young men. One had planned to drive a motorcycle to Alaska, another had planned a Land Rover trek across Turkey, and yet another described in some detail the plans that had been made to travel to Moscow and then hop a ride on the Trans-Siberian Railway across Russia.
After some minutes of recounting such adventurous plans, each one would suddenly morph back into reality with a cough and a sigh, “But, well, you know, I got married and then the kids came, my career began developing and I just couldn’t get away. But the misses and me, we’re still planning to travel as soon as the kids are away to college and such. Maybe get a motor home or a travel trailer and criss-cross America.” The quiet pain in their voice spoke volumes to me of the forever lost opportunity for youthful adventure. Not one of them was without a tale of longing for the days when they were filled with wild-eyed adventure, and not one of them ever realized their dream. I wondered, after a lifetime of sticking to the rut of business career, would they ever really get to travel? How many would die in their 60's of heart failure from a life of business stress, how many would contract lung cancer or liver failure from the indulgence of cigarettes and alcohol so prevalent in the plastics industry. Or how many would be devastatingly surprised by cancer, diabetes, or debilitating arthritis which would rob them of even the glint of their travel dream after waiting and planning for an entire lifetime.
 “Well, Randy,” Sharlene blurted out in soft frustration, “Are we going to the travel show or not?” I was jolted back into reality from my excursion into self analysis and evaluation of my immediate history. “Sure, OK, let’s go,” I responded with some confusion, “When does the show close tonight, anyway?”
Ed and Jeri Andersen became soul-mates in travel. They shared hours of their time and many meals together as they poured out their experience in world travel. They had spent 15 or 16 months traveling throughout Europe and across North Africa in their home-made VW Camper. With each session of sharing, our excitement and enthusiasm for a grand adventure grew. We started with a plan to spend two or three months traveling in Europe. Then it grew to six months and included North Africa. In time the expansion reached fever pitch with a plan to quit our jobs, put everything in storage and travel through South America, Europe, Africa and Australia. No set schedule, no time frame for our return, just travel and keep on traveling until we wanted to come back home. Now this was a great adventure, and one that our friends and parents thought was totally insane!
Ed and Jeri’s practical experience and counsel had the effect of making such a trip believable. They served as the catalyst to transfer Sharlene’s wild and impossible ideas into my practical ability to make it work. It wasn’t long and the fires of adventure had captured both Sharlene and I, and we were off on a planning binge for a truly grand once-in-a-lifetime odyssey of world travel. I was still asking the question of my sales cohorts and kept receiving the same sad response. Then one day a new conviction entrenched itself into my very being. Someday, some young person was going to ask me the same question that I had been asking, and with all of the emotional conviction I had, I destined myself to look straight into his young eyes and answer. ?You bet I had a dream of a great adventure, and by God, I went and did it!?
The planning moved forward in earnest. We determined it would take us a year to get ready to make such a trip. We gave up our apartment and moved into a house in Long Beach where we “house sat” for a year for an elderly couple who were traveling around the U.S. in a motor home. They would come home every couple of months for a short stay and then set off again for another part of America. That way we were able to live for free and save the rent money for the trip. Our recreational outings became trips to the local library where we would devour the books and articles from world travelers by the hour. We scoured all over Los Angeles for map stores that would have the latest maps of far away places, like the Sahara Desert and Patagonia in South America. We had regular meetings with other world travelers who were in between adventures or had retired from the grueling rigors of adventuring.
One book that we discovered in the library during those days was called “Cape Town to Cairo.” It was the best detailed account that we had found up to that time of travel through Africa. The book was the daily diary written by a woman of the Wally Byam Airstream Trailer caravan from Cape Town, at the very bottom of Africa, north to Cairo. The book was fascinating in its detail of camping life, the difficulty of the roads, problems with diseases, flash floods, getting water and fuel, and finding food. This lady was someone that I would like to meet someday. We read the book several times and took special note of the practical information and advice that she freely gave.
Several local clubs of world travelers, who met regularly to share experiences, invited us into their private gatherings and openly shared practical knowledge for this type of extended travel. They were careful to inform us in painstaking detail that this type of travel was considered adventuring as opposed to vacationing. Adventuring is a much different activity from vacation travel. For vacation travel it is possible to put everything of normal life on hold temporarily while you enjoy the leisure and rest of vacation. Adventuring, on the other hand, becomes your way of life when you intend to travel for two or more years. Financial considerations, mail, health issues, friends and relatives, isolation, danger from people and nature, finding food and provisions in highly rugged and primitive circumstances, mechanical and other vehicle issues, and certainly, not to be taken lightly, the close space and emotional survival of two individuals sharing accommodations the size of an oversized closet. In fact, we had been told of a couple, close friends of the Andersen’s, who made it only as far as Lima, Peru before the cramped accommodations became too much for their marital contract. She left on a plane from Lima and flew back to the U.S., he eventually sold their VW camper and went his separate way. The emotional stresses and tight living circumstances would be something to be dealt with.
I was particularly concerned about the performance and mechanical maintenance of our vehicle. We had bought a used 1972 VW bus with low mileage. It had an air cooled, dual carburetor, 1700 cc engine located in the traditional rear compartment as did all VW’s of that era. Being fairly competent with tools and somewhat of a handyman, I felt confident that I could do the basic maintenance on the VW engine. Things like changing the oil, changing points and spark plugs, setting the timing and valve clearance were all a piece of cake. However, as we heard more stories of the rough terrain we would encounter, I became increasingly concerned about major repairs in areas of the world where no VW dealership or mechanic would ever exist.
At this point a dear Christian friend named Fred Vinton came into our lives. Fred lived in Yorba Linda and was the service manager of a large VW dealership in Orange County which we had begun to frequent with our blue VW bus. Fred’s father had been a Christian missionary in central Africa for most of his life and Fred had spent many years working with his father. In fact, during our preparation period of 1972 and 1973, Fred made a trip to Africa to bring parts and his vehicle service expertise to the mission compound in Eastern Zaire. Fred’s first hand knowledge of the African roads led us to some drastic actions. First he created a quarter inch steel plate to be mounted under the transmission of our VW. This skid plate was essential to navigate the tortured roadways of Africa and keep from cracking the transmission housing on rocks and logs. Next was an exhaustive list of spare parts that would be essential to fix nearly any problem that would come up in the bush. Finally, Fred arranged for me to meet with the service executives at the headquarters of Volkswagen of America, located in Culver City, CA, to discuss the possibility of participating in the certified VW mechanic’s training for my particular vehicle and engine.
Fred showed us slides of his trips to Africa. This had the effect of sending my anxiety level right off the chart. Log bridges, some collapsed from termite damage, stretches of quicksand, pathways barely wide enough for one vehicle through dense jungle, roads in the rainy season with eighteen inches of gushy mud up to the tops of the wheels of the large lorry trucks. These were conditions that were far beyond what I had imagined and they sent chills down my back.
They also had the effect of inspiring real desperation in my voice when I talked with the VW training executives. As I explained to the head trainer, “I’m taking this vehicle to outer Patagonia and to the middle of the Sahara Desert. You probably don’t even know ehre that is and you certainly don’t have a service center there. Would you please consider giving me some special training on the engine?” Whether they saw it as a great promotional stunt or whether they simply felt sorry for me in my crazed condition, they agreed to send me to two weeks of their top mechanic school, for certified dealership mechanics, to learn how to take care of our vehicle and especially that particular 1700 cc engine. What a relief to know that I at least had some level of formal training to care for our only means of transportation. The training would prove to be extremely valuable again and again.
On a Monday morning in early August 1973, I showed up at the mechanics training institute at Volkswagen of America in Culver City where they accommodated me with a special program of mechanics training for the 1700 cc dual carburetor air cooled VW engine. There were about ten of us in the class, most of the others were older “master mechanics” who desired specialized training on the more detailed maintenance and repair of this particular engine.
The shop was immaculate with pristine work stations, tile floors, modern florescent lighting and individual engines on separate engine racks so that each student had their own engine to work on. Having the engine out of the vehicle and on a special rack so that the engine could be turned and tilted at will was very convenient. I would later find out that it is quite a different challenge when the engine is in the small rear engine compartment of the actual vehicle and the work is done through the small rear trap door or lying under the engine with inches of clearance for hands, arms, and tools.
 It was emphasized particularly forcefully by the trainer that on an air cooled engine the valve clearances and valve timing were of critical importance. Wrong valve clearance and the valves would quickly burn up or worse, collide with the piston on its upward push and bend the valve or crack the piston. In either case, major damage would result and make the engine inoperable. Wrong valve timing and the engine would run too hot and destroy the seals and valve seats and guides. Again, damaged engine requiring major overhaul and large expensive replacement parts.
One unique facet of the VW engine had to do with the somewhat complex set of steps required to set the valve clearances and timing. There is a primary pulley that attaches from the main drive shaft in the engine and sticks out the back of the engine, right next to the small trap door which allows access to the engine compartment. That pulley has several markings on it and those markings, along with a timing light, allow for setting the proper timing. One unique aspect is that the pulley goes around in a complete circle twice while the engine makes one complete cycle of the valves and pistons.
The two turns of the pulley during one complete cycle of the engine has to be observed carefully and accurately when rotating the engine to set the valve clearances, or disaster will occur. I made certain to practice this process of valve clearances and valve timing several times and became very proficient at the procedure. In the Sahara Desert this process would become crucial to our survival. Little did I know that the procedure would lead to one of the more heroic episodes of our Sahara crossing some sixteen months into the future.
George and Eleanor Simpson were characters of the greatest kind. We first met through our association with Ed Andersen and they eventually invited us to one of their adventurers meetings. George was a 67 year old farmer playboy. He drove a yellow XKE Jaguar with a giant yellow glass ball on the shift lever located between the yellow leather front bucket seats. From the first time we met, I really liked the guy. I think he really liked my blond sexy wife. George was a self made man, quick blue eyes, white hair and short cropped beard. He looked very distinguished and clever. He was medium height and relatively thin, but his mate, Eleanor, was short and fat and squatty, a little like you’d expect an aging farm wife to look like with short dark hair and a soiled apron around her middle. But, both of them were friendly, outgoing and full of life.
George had decided to take a trip through South America, nearly identical to ours, but with plans to leave six months prior to our intended departure. They also bought an Adventure Wagon VW conversion from Ed Andersen. It was great fun sharing information, ideas and plans as we both prepared for the journey. For many months prior to our departure, we were able to receive reports and letters from the Simpsons about their route, places to stop, friends they had met and helpful warnings about our own preparations with things they had forgotten or wished they had brought with them.
One interesting invention George added to his vehicle was a left foot pedal for the gas pedal. It was simple enough and always reminded me of the common sense and practical smarts the George had. He fashioned a half-inch metal bar of about 24 inches in length so that the approximately 5 inches of each end was bent at a ninety degree angle forming a kind of horseshoe with a long middle section. Then he bolted the bar to the floor of the driver compartment in front of the driver seat so that one of the ends laid on the gas pedal while the other end would stick up in the air near his left foot. The small circular clamps were placed in from the ends of the bar so that the bar could be slipped back and forth so as to lay the bent portion on the gas pedal or slip it a few inches to the left and have it mis the pedal and lay flat on the floor next to the gas pedal. In this ingenious way you could depress the gas pedal with the left foot to give the right foot a rest, somewhat like a homemade cruise control.
They also took with them a high quality CB radio with a booster linear amplifier. Such an amplifier is illegal in the United States as it boosts the signal of an amateur CB radio far to high and produces interference with other radio signals. However, in foreign countries there is little monitoring of such equipment and little or no method of enforcement. Another addition was a small red motorcycle that they carried on the front of their Volkswagen. In later communications, George admitted that the radio was much more of a problem at border crossings then the benefit they received from its occasional use. The motorcycle became a big hassle with the excessive weight, cumbersome extension, and constant worry of theft, either of the entire motorcycle or of stripped parts whenever they went sightseeing or over night when there was no formal campground. All in all, the conclusion was to leave the radio and motorcycle at home. So we did.
We gave strong consideration to two other pieces of equipment that at first we thought would be important. We had been told several stories of bandits in Mexico and in Columbia who would frequently stop tourist type vehicles on the back roads and rob the occupants of money and equipment. Accordingly, we considered carrying a gun of some type, pistol or rifle. In discussing this matter with many other world travelers and adventurers, the consensus was always, don’t do it. “What are you going to do if the bandits try to stop you?” they would ask. “Pull the curtains and have a shoot out with them? You would be killed for sure.” No, the better part of wisdom we learned was to just let them take what they want. We were assured that they would generally never take the vehicle or hurt the owners. They would just take all of your stuff and send you packing. The moral of the counsel was, travel light and if the worst happened, drive to the next civilization, resupply and head off again.
Another insight from a fellow traveler was that border crossings could be very dangerous with any type of firearm. There is so much unrest and military activity in many of the third world countries, that any foreigner carrying a gun of any type is automatically suspected of being some type of mercenary, spy or worse. Just having the gun and having it found could land you in jail for a very long time with no recourse or help from the American consulate. We left the gun home.
Similar counsel was given to us regarding short wave radio transmitters. We came into contact with a club of short wave radio fanatics. They call them DXer clubs. This group agreed to give us, for free, a $5,000 outfit of the best short-wave equipment and long distance collapsible antennae that is available. The idea was to outfit us so that we could set up the equipment in Sudan, Africa and transmit for several days in order for each of the members of this club to receive a DX card indicating that they had made legal contact by short wave radio from that particular country. This hobby of collecting DX cards from as many different countries as possible is a very big thing among short wave radio enthusiasts and they will go to extreme lengths to get these cards. Our itinerary included Sudan so they were willing to make this generous offer. I began studying for my radio transmission license and undertook a crash course in short wave operations. No sooner had I begun this endeavor when the wise counsel came from trusted sources that we would probably never make it to Africa with the equipment without it being confiscated at some border crossing in South America or Africa before reaching Sudan. Furthermore, the very likely threat of being arrested for antigovernmental or terrorist activities was very high. The result was that we immediately declined the offer and left the radio transmitter at home.
By the summer of 1973 we had gathered maps, books, articles and more. We had used the sensational nature of the trip to solicit support from equipment providers. On the promise of sending pictures and testimonial endorsements we were able to secure Ricaro racing seats for the front seats in the VW, a specially designed neoprene inflatable two-man raft, special Zeiss Icon four-tumbler locks for the doors, air horns, engine gauges for oil, electrical charge and heat, special deep cycle battery cells, and the full Adventure Wagon conversion kit from Ed Andersen at cost.
We had first become aware of the features of the VW conversion at the travel show. Now with many hours of adventuring research under our belts we began to understand the practical genius of the many unique features built into the VW. The design included a charcoal water purification system, 16 gallon water tank, dual propane tanks for the stove, the permanent fiberglass roof allowing for standing room and plenty of storage cubby holes, the three-way refrigerator (120 electric, 12 volt battery, and propane gas), and the adjustable double bed. With the addition of a quality 8-track tape deck, special lighting, circulating air fans, and dual mounted gas cans, the VW camper was as plush, practical and complete as any apartment we had rented, albeit considerably more compact.
One item that was a necessity for both of us was an expensive, high quality 8-track stereo system. Since both of us were addicted to music, this amenity was without question one of the most important items added to the camper. Quad speakers were added for front and rear listening, and a library of our favorite tunes which included Carpenters, Simon and Garfunkel, Andy Williams, Jesus Christ Superstar, Dianna Ross and the Supremes, Mommas and the Pappas, and many more 60’s greats.
 By early September 1973 we were ready to begin our odyssey. We had both given notice at our respective jobs, me at MELRU Plastics Company and Sharlene at Air California where she had been working as an airline stewardess. A satchel of Michelin maps covered South America and Africa with the utmost detail. The South American Handbook published by Trade and Travel Publications Ltd in England became our travel Bible for the next six months. Standard maps of Mexico seemed adequate, or so we thought, and we had numerous maps and camping guides from Europe which were plentiful. One of the most helpful books for our journey was Africa On Wheels by John J. Byrne, published by Haessner Publishing, Inc. in Newfoundland, New Jersey. This book provided the expertise, insight and proven ability of making a vehicle trip down the full length of the continent of Africa. Without it, I don’t believe we would ever had tried such an impossible task, and the route covered by world class adventurer Byrne was the basic route that we followed through Africa.
We had scrimped and saved about $8,000 for the entire trip. All of our worldly possessions were put into storage at Sharlene’s parent’s turkey farm in Turlock, California, and a final tally was made of our equipment and supplies to be carried in the camper. We searched for a proper name to refer to our beloved VW camper and finally settled on “Bubbles,” named after the big blue whale at Marineland. With the raised fiberglass roof and the light blue color, the van looked a little like a big blue whale.
“Let’s set everything out on the ground next to Bubbles and take some pictures to document all the stuff we are taking with us,” I said with exhausted enthusiasm. We had been frantically doing all of the last minute preparations so that we could finally get on the road.
“OK, pull the van around on the grass in the back yard and I’ll start carrying everything out,” Sharlene answered with a calm direct voice. She had always been a calm practical person with a simple and straight forward view of any obstacle. In the months ahead, her steady demeanor would save me many times from the emotional upheaval created by one impossible obstacle after another. As long as she stayed calm, I stayed calm and then my mind could solve any problem.
“Do you really think we should bring both of our trumpets and the guitar? The guitar takes up a lot of room,” Sharlene commented with clear practicality.
“Yeah, I really want to bring them so that we can play for missionary groups and such when we visit them.” We had gathered international missionary directories from most of the church denominations. In the next two years we would visit over fifty different missionaries on three continents. It was always a delight to be received by friendly American missionaries to take a hot shower and wash clothes.
“OK, babe, let’s check off the list as we arrange everything for a picture” I was adamant about having a place for everything to fit so that nothing was out in the open to be seen through the windows. We had spent months searching for just that right item, tool or accessory, that was just the right size to fit in a little cubby hole.
“Do you think you have figured out how to use the new camera yet?” Sharlene asked.
“I think so,” I answered. “But all of the multiple lenses are a little confusing. I really need some practice so that I can choose the right lens quickly. What do you think I should use to mark one of the Nikon camera bodies so that we can easily see which one has the black and white film for magazine pictures. The other will have the slide film.” “I don’t know,” Sharlene answered with disinterest in her voice. “Can you just put a sticker or piece of tape on it?”
“Well, let’s see,” I said under my breath as I began to fool with the many camera pieces. “The camera case holds three lenses and two bodies. It’s kinda big and bulky, so I’ll rig up the smaller 200mm telephoto lense case so it can carry the wide angle lense and the 65 - 105 zoom lense.” Now I was speaking louder so that Shar could hear my brilliant solution, “Then with the regular lense on the camera I can carry most of the equipment without the big box.”
“If you can do it that way, why did we buy the big box anyway?” Sharlene asked in her ever frugal way.
“It was so cheap to get all of this stuff in Japan, that I just wanted a safe place to keep all the equipment together. Besides, there are pockets for polarizing lenses, lense cleaner materials, the flash attachment, and lots of other neat accessories,” I spoke with an air of justification. “Do you remember that little place where we finally bought the camera?”
“Yeah,” Sharlene chimed, “I really enjoyed our trip to Japan with Continentals. It made the trip even better knowing that shortly after we got back we would be leaving for our trip.” I looked at her thoughtfully, ?Remember those two school kids that wanted to practice English and took us for that lunch at the sushi restaurant??
“It was so fun trying to get them to talk,” Sharlene spoke with a fondness in her voice. She continued, “I think we understood most of what they said, but boy, that raw fish was awful. Never could stand that stuff.”
“Me too,” I replied as I contorted my face as if tasting sour milk. “But we gaged through it so we didn’t hurt their feelings. They probably spent all the money they had for a month to buy that meal. As much as they struggled in the conversation, they sure knew more English than we did Japanese!”
“That reminds me,” Sharlene inquired playfully, “how are you doing with your Spanish?”
“What about your French?” I quickly retorted meeting the challenge. “You know they speak French in most of Africa, along with Swahili I think.”
“Here’s the miniature French-English dictionary and the Spanish-English one too. Where do you want the library stacked up?” Sharlene asked with a tinge of concern. She did not have a great appreciation for books so the addition of several volumes seemed like a waste of space to her.
We had traveled with Continental Singers to the Orient for three months, June through mid August. Continentals is a Christian music ministry sending young people all over the world to sing contemporary music and win people to Christ. Sharlene and I had met on such a tour in 1970 when the group traveled around the world. On this Orient trip, I played trumpet and served as assistant director and Sharlene sang alto. Our association with the ministry was a good one. The President and Founder Cam Floria had become a good friend and he shared our enthusiasm for international travel and adventuring. Part of our future plans included making contacts and booking concerts in South America and Africa with the possibility of directing a Continental group back to those two areas, one at the half way mark of our trip next summer and then to Africa at the end of our travels in the summer of 1975.
As an act of friendship and admiration for our courage to follow our dream, Cam had presented to us his only copy of the National Geographic collector’s book recounting the first 75 years of exploration and discovery by the National Geographic Society. They called it their diamond jubilee anniversary book and was the first hard cover anthology recounting the great adventures of world renowned adventurers from the pages of the National Geographic Magazine. The book was out of print and another would never be available to Cam, but he willingly made the sacrifice and we received it warmly. The book was entitled “Great Adventures with National Geographic” and was a fitting title as we had come to refer to our trip as our great adventure. Cam’s inscription on the inside cover simply said, “To Randy and Sharlene on their Great Adventure.” Many evenings during our traveling, I would pass the hours just after dark by reading and rereading these great stories such as Robert Peary’s race to the North Pole, Sir Edmund Hillary conquering Mount Everest for the first time, or Hiram Bingham’s discovery of Machu Picchu, the Lost City of the Andes. The stories caused us to have a sense of brotherhood with these great adventurers as we pursued our unique travel odyssey. It was a good feeling.
By now I had arranged the camera on the tripod on top of the picnic table to get an aerial view of our equipment and supplies. When it was all laid out neatly on the grass of Sharlene’s back yard in Turlock, California, it looked like a lot of stuff. The portable toilet, fold-up barbeque, and travel games were the only things that would end up being discarded early on as unneeded space wasters. Somewhere in Argentina they would become gifts to missionaries and friends.
Some of the more exotic items included several lengths of copper pipe with the ends already flared and connectors attached to replace any of the several water lines in the camper in the event any of them sprung a leak. We had a high quality short wave radio receiver that we had scoured the electronic stores of Los Angeles to find. It would become our only source of information of what was going on in the world and especially at home. The two-ton power pull winch was an odd sight with the hundred feet of quarter inch steel cable coiled around it. We had weighed the VW and discovered it weighed just under 4,000 pounds when fully loaded. That left little margin for the winch but we didn’t think we would ever need to actually lift the whole vehicle up in the air. Pulling it through mud and sand with all four tires still on the ground would result in a total weight of less than two tons so we felt we were OK.
Three critical issues had troubled us for months and it took real diligence to find answers that were workable and likely to be successful. The three were mail, money, and car registration for border crossings. The mail situation was the first to be resolved. We had no set itinerary so we had no way to inform friends and relatives when or where they could write to us. Finally, we made a list of the probable major cities that we were likely to travel to. Upon inquiry at the local post office we were informed that if mail is addressed to our attention in care of “general delivery,” the mail would be kept safe at the main post office for up to six months. If we went into any international post office and asked to see the general delivery box of mail, we could find any that was addressed to us and upon proof of identity, collect our mail. In addition, we discovered it was possible to place a forwarding address for any mail that came to general delivery with our name on it. So, when we got to a city and collected our mail, we would then use a forwarding address for some city that was several weeks or months away. In this way we received mail throughout the trip, often having mail that arrived after we had departed from that city, forwarded to a city that we would visit in the future.
We had heard many scary stories about vehicles being confiscated at the border crossing between countries for lack of proper international registration. In both South America and Africa it was imperative to have a special international registration for the car. After further reading and researching we discovered that the international registration had its own name. It was called a “Carnet de Passages en Douanes.” Issued through the automobile association of the country where the car was currently registered, this document is recognized all over the world. The document is more of a booklet, about eight and one-half inches high and fourteen inches across and made up of several pages with a cardstock cover and backing. Each inside page was divided into three equal sections with perforation from top to bottom. On the outside cover were instructions in various languages. The inside cover contained all of the detailed information to identify this particular vehicle, license, name and address of registered owner, vehicle identification number, country of registration, etc. Each one third section of the interior pages had the identical information to identify the vehicle.
The Carnet de passages, as it was usually referred to, was a method of international registration designed to insure that if you drove an automobile into a country, it would be driven out of the country without being sold on the black market. In order to get the Carnet, we were required by AAA to pay $2,000.00 which was held as a bond by AAA. When entering a country, an entry stamp was placed on the one-third section closest to the binding of the booklet on the left. Then the outside one-third of that page was torn off at the perforation and was kept by the local border officials. Upon departure from the country at whatever other border was crossed, an exit stamp was placed next to the entry stamp and the second one-third page was torn from the booklet, leaving just the stub of the page with the entry and exit stamps and the respective dates. The two separate sheets would then meet up with each other somewhere in an office in the capital of the country and the file would be closed. If the exit sheet did not show up within a reasonable time, then the country official had the right to claim against the $2,000.00 bond to pay for the import tax on the vehicle. In Mexico and Central America the Carnet was not needed, but throughout South America and Africa it was a necessity. We were to discover through much anxiety and frustration hat some countries would not accept the standard Carnet and only our wits and creativity resulted in our ability to traverse these countries.
Finally, was the matter of money. We had saved $8,000.00 for the trip and wondered how we would handle the money over a long period of time while traveling. We did not think it prudent to carry all of our money with us at any one time due to the ever present threat of robbers. There was no guarantee that friends at home could send us money en route because we did not have a set route and mail delivery was very sporadic in many countries. At last, American Express came to the rescue. Their policy in 1972 was to allow international travelers to cash a personal check and receive American Express travelers checks for an amount of $400.00 once every three weeks. We put all of our money into a savings account in California with an automatic transfer of funds to our checking account every month for $500.00. We calculated that the $400.00 every three weeks would just about cover our needs. With several hundred dollars in cash hidden away in the VW we could create the cash flow that we needed for several years of travel while having only $600.00 to $700.00 of actual cash in our possession at any one time. The system worked perfectly and we discovered that the $400.00 every three weeks was actually more than we needed. Our secret stash of $1.00 bills and Kennedy half dollars was an invaluable asset and got us out of trouble on many occasions.
“OK we have enough pictures. Let’s get everything packed up,” Sharlene said with determined urgency. She was anxious to get going. It was Saturday and we were free. All of our worldly possessions had been placed in a refrigeration room in the aqua colored barn where Shar’s family had processed thousands of turkeys over the past twenty years. The processing plant, located on the same acreage as her home, had been closed down some years earlier as Foster Farms took over the mass production of chickens and turkeys in California’s central valley and drove most of the independent small family operations out of business. The large refrigeration room was well sealed and would keep our belongings safe from pests and rodents.
I replied with equal urgency, “I have a few last things to put in the storage room. I really don’t think I need all of these clothes. I have decided to take just two pairs of Levi shorts, two pairs of jeans, and one dressy outfit. I think the blue checked sport coat from Continentals, white polyester paints and white plastic shoes will be sufficient. What do you think?”
“Don’t you think you should bring some shirts along?” Shar said sarcastically. “O yeah, good idea,” I quickly replied. “Maybe two or three muscle shirts, one regular shirt and two long sleeved pullover shirts. Oh, and a white dress shirt and tie to go with the outfit. I think the material is that plastic non-wrinkle stuff so I can wrap it up in a ball and cover it with a plastic bag and stuff it way in the back of the closet. It won’t take up much space. I guess some underwear and socks would be a good idea also but we don’t need too many. We’re just going to have to wash them often.”
“What about jackets or sweaters? Do we need some?” Shar asked with genuine concern. She was often cold and the thought of being somewhere with no jacket to stay warm made her anxious.
“Well,” I began with focused evaluation. “We are intending to stay in summer throughout most of the trip. It’s fall now but as soon as we cross the equator in South America it will be summer for us while it is the winter months for California. Then we should be headed back across the equator for Europe by June so that we hit the summer months again in the Northern Hemisphere. Then south in Africa to cross the equator and hit summer again.” Shar was always a little impressed with how quickly I processed information and had an answer for her questions, but it also was a little intimidating for her and made her uncomfortable.
“That’s all great,” Shar said impatiently, “But I just want to know about taking jackets or sweaters with us.”
“Yeah, we need some warm clothes. Up in the Andes mountains we’ll be above 10,000 feet and even in summer it can get pretty cold at night. And, in the Sahara dessert I have read that the temperature can get down into the thirties at night even when its scorching during the day. We have down sleeping bags for sleeping at night but we probably need jackets,” I announced with confidence. My quick analysis and evaluation having led to the correct solution again.
“Gosh, I just wanted to know whether to bring the jackets. I didn’t need a dissertation on the weather and climate conditions of our entire trip. You’re starting to sound like Ed Andersen,” she said gruffly as she set aside a blue and gold ski jacket for her and a gold quilt patterned thermal jacket for me. “The little closet is nearly full with folding chairs and towels and things, but I think we can hang up these two jackets. Let me run in and get a couple of hangars, I think we have some of those heavy plastic ones that should work fine.”
“No,” I said contemplatively, “I think we should use two of those heavy black metal hangars. You never know when a good piece of heavy wire will come in handy. Besides those plastic ones will eventually break and be of no use at all.”
Sharlene usually had a need to hear only the simple basic facts without fancy embellishment. Simple straight forward questions and simple short answers with just the facts were her style. It kept life uncomplicated for her and kept her from getting confused with too much information to process. But, it also left her wide open to the dangers of the unknown that had not been thought about or anticipated by thinking ahead and analyzing what might happen if. We made a perfect pair. Sharlene with a simple trust and confidence that everything will always work out alright if you just keep persevering and moving ahead, and me with an overactive mind to analyze and evaluate endlessly with a quick and practical mind for problem solving and anticipating every eventuality before it ever occurred.
These attributes would pull us through again and again as we faced the unknown dangers and often seemingly impossible challenges that are inherent in adventuring. Sharlene would say, “just do it” and I would quickly figure out how it could be done, and we would keep going.
“I think we’ll leave right after church tomorrow. Is that OK with you? I want to see everyone at church one last time and maybe have Pastor Rasmussen pray over us for safety and all,” I spoke with a soft voice to assure Sharlene of my sincerity.
“I like the idea, but what am I going to wear? Oh, I’ll pull something out of storage. It’s OK,” Shar responded with warmth and affection to support my desires as she walked off toward the barn. |
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