“Was a sunny day
Not a cloud was in the sky
Not a negative word was heard
From the people passing by
‘Twas a sunny day
All the birdies in the trees
And the radio’s singing song
All the favorite melodies.”

~Paul Simon

Marshall Lake this year. The dry grass is where the runoff from the snow-covered mountains usually fills the lake.

 

I packed up Monday morning and headed to Krazy K RV park in Camp Verde, AZ.  As seen from I-17, it would not be the kind of place I’d choose to stay in, but a couple years ago, I needed to plug into electricity to run my AC during a heat wave in order not to fry, and this place had spots available. The lower portion is a 55+ RV park, and the upper portion has spots open for 55+ short term visitors.  The first year the owner offered me “overflow camping” if I didn’t mind being “way up next to the pool and hot tub, laundry room and gym.”  It was half price.  My mama didn’t raise no fools. (Well, actually, she raised two, but I am not one of them.) I got the same spot and the same deal this year, parking 10 feet from the gate to the pool and hot tub.  I was at the top of the hill with the pool, laundry room, and gym between me and the permanent residents.  It was very private and in my two days there, I only saw one other man use the hot tub/pool, so it was like it was my own private spa.

While there, I noticed my Internet was down. After doing everything I could think of to revive it, I resorted to calling Verizon. Verizon’s wireless service is generally pretty good, and I have few problems and very few places where it doesn’t work. But when there is a problem, good luck finding any customer service. I first started by calling Tech Support. My phone was working with a good signal, so I suspected something must be wrong with my wireless internet gateway.  I called and was connected to the most convoluted automated phone tree in existence. I fought the AI “assistant” who (purposely) seemed to misunderstand everything I said. After every command I gave, it wanted to direct me to an article where I could read about possible solutions to my problem. It staggers me that Verizon, a COMMUNICATIONS COMPANY will do absolutely everything possible to keep you from communicating with a person that works for them.  I finally gave up and called the sales phone number. A real English-speaking human answered on the second ring.  Apparently if you want to buy something, someone is always available. If you want help with something you’ve already purchased, you are pretty much out of luck. With some coercion I convinced the sales rep to connect me to tech support. Over the next few days, I spent more than 4 hours on the phone with customer “service.” One woman with an extreme Chinese accent told me “There is problem in your area. Maybe wait one week and it could be OK.”  Another woman, determined to help stayed on the line with me for over an hour having me constantly unplugging the router, waiting 15 seconds and then plugging it back in. Each time I plugged back in, it took over 5 minutes to reboot and the same issue returned. My laptop connected to the router, but the router could not reach the internet. I finally gave up and decided I’d find a Verizon store in Flagstaff when I moved. Lucky for me there was a hot tub with my name on it only 15 feet away so I could soak away my frustration. When I got to Flag, I stopped for dog food and just like that, my internet returned and seems fine ever since.

Pulling off Lake Mary Road onto Fire Road 128 which runs along Marshall Lake, I started thinking about which site I was hoping to get. The sites closest to the beginning of FR 128 were nice, but the past couple times I stayed, they were occupied by sketchy characters.  There was a very nice spot that I stayed in for many weeks on and off last year. That would work for sure. But then I remembered “the spot that got away.”  My friend Greg got it one year and it was a wonderful spot across from the lake, a bit up a hill, hidden by tall pines.  I drove to it and found it empty. Not for long.  I pulled in and set up camp and rebuilt the fire pit which some previous occupants had collapsed in on itself, presumably to put out their fire. Cosmo and I sat outside in the sun and took in our amazing view.

     

I read and Cosmo watched for pack rats.

I was surprised by the temperature drop. Camp Verde had been 91⁰ when we left; Marshall Lake would see a high of 65⁰ that same day. The cool clear air and the scent of pine was a welcome gift. It must still be early in the season, because there were few people around and very few cars passing by. It still gets down to below freezing at night, although I suspect only for an hour or so right before dawn. My first night I woke up several times when the heater kicked on. It is set to 50⁰ so I know the outside temp must have been pretty cold for the inside temperature of the van to drop below 50. Being at a much higher elevation, the sun rose nearly an hour earlier due to us being ON the mountain instead of in its shadow. I awoke to daylight at 5:30, but was in no rush to do anything, so I coaxed Cosmo up to the top of the bed (he was down by my feet) and spooned him until I fell back into some “bonus sleep.”  I went out like a light and had strange but pleasant dreams. I finally got up at 7:00 when the sun peeked over the pine trees to the east. I made coffee and got back in bed with Cosmo snoring gently across my lap. I had internet (I’m not sure how long I would have survived without it) and coffee and all was right with the world.

Lessons From The Road: You would think by now I’d have weather figured out.  I have been in AZ most of this past year, and yet I’m constantly having to look at a weather app to figure out if I can stay where I am, or if I need to move, and if so, where can I move to that is not freezing at night or unbearably hot during the day. It is so strange to me that driving an hour can move me from blistering heat to snow-capped mountains.

I also figured out (after 4 years on the road) that many of the spots where I like to stay are vacation destinations.  It finally dawned on me that, similar to living near the beach in Delaware, I often live in tourist country. At the beach, we dreaded the yearly invasion of “Tourons” who came from the big nearby cities with their sense of entitlement and brought with them everything that is wrong with city life. They crowded our grocery stores and clogged our streets. They honked at us to get out of their way as they rushed to the ocean or to dinner, and pushed in front of us in line at the post office because they needed to get to the beach before the rest of the Tourons took their spots.  It is similar here in the wild. I got a beautiful, isolated spot on Thursday. By evening, a cyber truck towing an airstream had pulled in down the road. (Just the sight of such an abomination parked in the pristine forest seemed a desecration.) Two men in separate truck campers pulled in at a nearby spot and set up camp. Many new Mercedes vans drove up and down the road looking for an empty site, or they would have to settle on invading a spot already taken by someone else. I have been mulling over my tendency to be territorial. I realize now that I don’t mind sharing a large spot with a kindred spirit.  I DO mind being invaded by some rich asshole from Phoenix who brings to the forest everything that is wrong with the world and assumes they have the right to come late and park wherever they please. 

That being said, the two men in truck campers nearest me were very quiet and respectful. They pulled in Thursday, set up camp, had a bonfire and went to bed early.  In the morning, one truck was gone as were both men. They returned around 5:30.  I remembered that in previous years, a lot of people came up to Flagstaff to work for the summer to avoid the unbearable Phoenix heat. Many of them stay in the forest to avoid spending everything they earn on motel rooms. I suspect my neighbors are construction workers. I’m always glad to have workers next to me as they go to bed early and are gone all day long.