CALIFORNIA BREAKDOWN
May 2008
We got off to a late start yet again. This seems to be a reoccurring theme at the beginning of each trip. I wanted to pick up my new eyeglasses but the office didn’t open until ten A.M. The plan was to go south from there, then over to I-5 and begin heading north. The more I thought about this that morning the less appealing interstate traffic became. After picking up my glasses we turned around and retraced our tracks north on Highway 101.
The plan for this trip was to venture into eastern Oregon and Washington with the only real point of interest being the John Day Fossil Beds in Oregon. While driving along I began losing motivation for the trip in part due to the high cost of fuel and still operating on a limited budget. We made it as far as Richardson Grove along the Eel River for the first night. I found the redwood setting very peaceful, relaxing and realized that all I am looking for is right here. There was no need to log in long high mileage days. I rationalized the money saved on fuel could be put towards campground fees, which I normally avoid. Sinbad and I held a meeting that evening and we cemented a new plan. I had been following online the exploits of a seventy-year old man boondocking around in Mexico. Through his blog I learned that George averaged only fifty miles a day travelling leaving most of his time to explore and enjoy wherever he is camped. I tried this out at the end of our last trip and discovered how pleasant it was. So it appears we will stay in northern California for the entire time and I am perfectly happy with that. Sinbad is too.
I went for an hour hike early in the morning, then moved the rig down by the river in a sunny spot I found while hiking. I simply enjoyed watching the river flow by, walking and sitting by the riverbank. We lounged around Richardson Grove until two o’clock that day. We then moved on up the road taking the Avenue of the Giants scenic route and pulled into the first campground we came to, Hidden Springs. As it was with Richardson Grove, there were very few campers out this early in the season and this was fine by us.
The next morning after my hike, I walked across the road to meet Fred & Ruth from Riverside. They had a small camper van on the same chassis/engine assembly (Dodge Sprinter with Mercedes diesel engine) as the View. I have seen these before on the road and was curious as to the gas mileage they get in comparison. Fred was equally happy to make my acquaintance, as they had been interested in Views also. They had a Rialta van a few years earlier but lost it due to a fire. Fred said he figures about twenty mpg on the average with this new van so this is only a couple of miles more than the View. He invited me in for a tour and I was afraid I might like what I saw; wishing perhaps something on this order may have been more practical. Once inside though I instantly knew otherwise. I felt I was in a coffin equipped with a small refrigerator and stove. My head almost touched the ceiling and I do not know how they can call the two bench seats ‘twin beds’. They asked me to sit and visit but being hot and sweaty from my hike I said I couldn’t. Ruth sensed I was about to leave so she quickly asked if I was familiar with “Born Again”. I thought to myself No, she’s not going there is she? Maybe ‘Born Again’ is a brand of RV. I was wrong and she launched onto a full-blown born-again Christian spiel. That I needed to repent for my sins (I don’t know if there’s enough time left in my life for me to account for all my sins). That I needed to make sure there will be a spot reserved for me in God’s Kingdom. She used the word ‘reserved’, which caused me to liken heaven as a campground. God’s Kingdom Campground. Full hook-ups, pull-thru sites, showers and dump station. Good Sam discounts accepted. Caught completely by surprise I stood there with the proverbial deer in the headlights look. I soon regained my senses and I assured her that I had already experienced the ‘born again’ feeling when I retired four years ago. “I’m a new man! Praise the Lord!” I wished them a happy trip and returned to camp with the words of “...our savior Lord Jesus Christ” chasing me across the road. Back inside the sanctuary of the motor home, I was thankful for everything it was.
This sinner and his cat continued on their journey reaching Patrick’s Point State Park later in the afternoon. After a cup of tea and with binoculars in hand, I walked through the campground underbrush following the barking sounds of Sea Lions below the cliff. Finally, I located a clear spot where I was able to see the ocean. Within minutes, I spotted a whale surfacing, blowing spray then diving deep with his tail fully extended out of the water. Wow! I couldn’t ask for anything more. I walked back to camp with the biggest smile on my face having been able to see a whale. See, God likes me.
We left the coast and started inland on Highway 299 through the Trinity Mountain Range towards Redding. These hundred-forty-two miles held promise for many camping opportunities. Soon on I detected something not right with the engine. Is God changing his mind about me? On a long pull, it would falter very slightly as if starving for fuel, then resume on. I turned back towards Eureka not knowing what to do but it seemed to have cleared itself out and was running fine, so I turned back again towards the east. However, it started up again became no worse and did not take away from performance so I ignored it. I discovered all the Forest Service campgrounds were closed−too early in the season. Finally at Burnt Ranch, a campground was open and there we stayed.
The next morning I took off on an unmaintained trail down to the river but realized half way only mountain goats could navigate this. I turned back towards camp. Eager to find a wide-open place to camp along the river we moved out without any breakfast. Yesterday’s engine problem was still with us only to manifest itself into a much more serious condition. Okay, God is getting serious now. It would just slightly hesitate on climbs then continue right along although with power really dropping off. This was the worse place to be, in the Trinity Mountain Range with all its ups and downs and hundred miles from any place of note. For the first time I was grateful for road construction where they stopped you and you had to wait for a pilot truck. I was able to place myself at the end of the line. Once through the construction, I had now no one behind me for miles until the next group caught up with us.
Turning back towards Eureka was not an option. I had passes to climb that way also plus all those on Highway 101 south towards home. Redding and the flat Central Valley was our only salvation. We had only two big passes to clear today. I was very concerned. Sinbad was oblivious to the situation. The first one at twenty-five-hundred feet I started up, bogged down to thirty mph or less and did a quick U-turn back down to the bottom. I figured this was it, stuck in Johnson City, population three-hundred. I turned off the engine and stepped out to pee. In the presence of danger one always has to pee. I started up the engine and went for it again. This time the turbo kicked in and I was up to a respectable speed before it seemed to shut off. We made it to the top not without an engine light coming on. It was the engine control unit. I fished out the owner’s manual. Bleed the fuel system and with four or five starts, it should clear up. If not, take to your nearest Sprinter Dealer. It did not clear. I figured maybe a faulty electronic device. So from then on when the road grew steep I shut the engine off, started it up again and went for it. This worked to some degree. Now if we could only make it to Redding. Doing so required a final thirty-five-hundred foot pass. We were pulling a grade with the usual problems and then rounded a turn and saw the sign, Buckhorn Pass. “This is it Sinbad! We made it!” I hadn’t realized we were on the final grade as it wasn’t as bad as the previous pass.
Back on Interstate 5 we slowly headed for Redding. I found if we got up to speed the cruise control could hold it steady. A few hills did slow us down to forty-five mph where I flicked on the flashers for safety. We miraculously made it to Chico where I parked at my daughter’s at three-thirty P.M. Reflecting back on what we had accomplished on limited power I was very grateful. Thank you God!
There were two places I could go for repairs, Roseville and Folsom each about one hundred fifty more miles on limited power. Although I-5 would be a farther route, it looked the least nerve wracking. The cruise control could keep us going at sixty mph with strong tailwinds and providing a second lane for cars to pass.
We arrived at the dealership at twelve-thirty P.M. I explained the symptoms and my thoughts to the problem with the service manager, a nice guy. He pulled out a flashlight and checked the turbo resonator before anything else and said “There’s your problem”. I was flabbergasted! I could see it separated at the seam. The failure was this plastic hollow canister, a component, nothing electronic. This is a common weak point with these engines of ’05 vintage. I was aware of this and went to change it early on in our ownership to the improved version a Q5, only to discover the previous owner had already done that. Q5’s never fail as does the Q3’s and Q4’s. However, here this one did. The discussion group I monitor for these Mercedes Dodge Sprinters have only heard of one Q5 failure. Why me? God, you making me take notice? I never looked at the turbo resonator having placed a false sense of security in knowing this part was fine. Had I looked, I could have repaired it with some JB Weld way back there in Johnson City and avoided two days of drama driving! GRRRR!!!
There is an aftermarket version of this resonator made from of a solid billet of aluminum, nothing more than a seamless metal tube. I was aware of these metal replacements, much better than a plastic canister with a seam. It is not a factory made item and yet surprisingly the dealer carried them. I could have another Q5 put in under warranty (free) or select the aluminum one, not under warranty and pay, but ah then never to worry about this happening again. He said all the UPS and FED-EX Sprinters go with the metal option as they cannot afford breakdowns alongside the road. Since I was already planning to spend big bucks on some electronic gadget I said do it. Two hundred thirty-two dollars later I was out of there at three P.M. and he gave me a Q5 anyway on the side (under warranty), which I could sell or give to some unlucky View/Navion owner broke down along the side of the road, who didn’t know any better and thus be a hero. We blew on down to the Delta area and found a nice peaceful campground all to ourselves for the night.
Here it is one week into our trip and just two hours from home instead of the planned two thousand miles. I took note of diesel fuel prices in Rio Vista on Thursday before our next camp. It was at an outrageous four fifty-nine per gallon. The next morning Friday, as we left Brannon Island State Park (don't go there), they had raised the price by thirty cents per gallon overnight just because the weekend was here. It is a conspiracy I know it!
I had the transmission fluid checked when the repair was being done as I knew the transmission was working hard climbing those long grades in the Trinity mountains. The fluid was brown instead of red, as I suspected. It had got too hot. This will have to be taken care of and is something the owner cannot do himself. It's been engineered this way by Mercedes. I cannot even check the level as there is no dipstick. "A trained Sprinter service technician must perform this service." Three hundred dollars! Yikes! So we came on home and will build up our travel purse for a later date and further adventures.