In hindsight, the seed of Wrightquest actually germinated in 1988. Living in Redondo Beach, CA, our jobs were no longer fun, the youngest of our five children had reached 18, the housing market limited our ability to change homes and remain at the beach. In an act viewed by our friends as insane, we sold our house and boat, quit our jobs, and left southern California for Reno, NV, with no idea of where we would live or how we would support ourselves. That act showed us the way to freedom. We found the danger is not in the risk; the danger is in staying too secure. Outside of Reno, we designed and built a home on an acre of land with a stream on the north side of the property. Each of us became small business owners. Then we bought an RV - a 24-foot fifth wheel. Taking our accommodations with us on trips to the Sierras, to Death Valley, to fishing in Oregon, whet our appetite for more. In 1999 we traded in our 5th wheel for a 34-foot, Winnebago Adventurer motorhome and started to think about retirement: We could sell the house, we could move into the RV, we could travel full time. If asked in 1995, would we even remotely consider such a life style, our likely reply, “No way.” Oh, how attitudes change.

Les and Carole’s Western Odyssey

We moved north, my man and me,
Ten years ago this year.
Without a fight, traded big city lights,
For a star-filled sky, so clear.

Bought us land, my man and me,
Creek runs through the back, out there.
Instead of a boat, our dreams were afloat
On cool, quiet, mountain air.

Sat on our porch, my man and me.
Watched quail, squirrel, and deer.
Heard coyotes cry, saw herons fly,
So much wild life out here.


Cows on our street, cows in our creek,
Cows in our own front yard.
This is the west, fence them out, they said,
Put in a cattle guard.

Chased cows, my man and me.
Cursed, and stomped, and hollered.
Stepped in their pies, shooed them over the rise,
Do ya think they could be collared?

Saw developers, my man and me,
Build houses, fences, golf courses.
Can’t ride in the woods, sure wish we could,
But ‘progress’ pushed out the horses.

Cattle guard got paved this year,
‘Cause now there’re no cows to see.
Very few deer, only houses here
May be time to move on, my man and me.

Carole Wright, September 1998

January 10, 2003: The house is empty, the last box has been removed from the garage, and we sleep in our motorhome, in the driveway - as visitors. The property has been sold, and we are "homeless". Thus we embarked on our new adventure of full-time RVing.