It seemed to turn into autumn overnight. I was going through e-mails on my laptop and when I looked up, it was dark. I wondered what time it was. It couldn’t be that late. I looked at the clock and it was 7:30. Out in the forest, it was so black I couldn’t even see nearby trees. The wind kicked up and I could hear the rustling, dried leaves on the nearby asphalt road. It was cool, dark, and windy and it had such a “Halloween feeling” about it. I went to bed by 10:00 and slept until 7:00 a.m. I must have needed that.
It’s hard for me to believe how many times in the days since my mom passed, I thought “Oh. I should call mom and tell her…” And then remembered that I can’t tell her anything else. Honestly, for the past couple of years, when I did call and tell her something, I’m not sure she comprehended, and I know that by the time I hung up the phone, she had no idea that I even called. But at least some part of her knew it was me while the call was in progress. I’m good with her being out of pain. My sister and I waited for it for weeks if not months. Still, her passing has left a hole in my life. I am not sad. I had to search for the word. Melancholy. It matches the fall weather. Grey and gloomy.
I got moving slowly. I read in bed and had a second cup of coffee. I’d been in a State Recreation Area near Chico, CA for the past two nights because they had electrical hookups. Since my fridge was not running on propane, and my laptop wouldn’t charge on DC, an electrical hookup at the park was such a blessing. I hate to pay to stay, but this place is beautiful, still surrounded by woods (though I miss the tall pines) and sparsely populated. There are 45 campsites; today 7 are occupied. My nearest neighbors are the 4 young does that frequently visit our campsite and a few woodpeckers. And it rained. Not much, but enough to get the ground wet and bring out that “it just rained” scent. I drove up to the guard shack and paid for another night. My solar generator is repaired and was shipped to a FedEx store in Sacramento. It won’t be there until Tuesday, but I’ll leave Monday and head in that direction. I’ll have to figure out a work-around for a fridge that has no electricity and won’t run on propane, but I’m getting antsy to move southward.
In the afternoon, I went down to one of the showers. Hot showers were $1 for 4 minutes. I splurged and bought enough tokens for 8 minutes. I put in enough for 4 minutes and washed and conditioned my hair and beard. The water stopped before I could thoroughly scrub my feet, so I put in another token, washed my feet with a scrub brush, and still had enough time left to just stand and feel the hot water pour over my body. It was bliss. When the water stopped, I still had a token left, but decided I was good, so I put the token back in the dispenser tray of the token machine. Someone will find it and have 2 minutes of hot water. The maintenance man told me the other day that sometimes homeless people sneak in at night and get a shower. Good for them. Enjoy two minutes of steamy pleasure on me.
The next day we packed up and moved southward. It was a day of errands: My solar generator was to arrive sometime that day via FedEx to a FedEx location in southern Sacramento. By 10:00 there was a note that it was “out for delivery” but no indication of time. Since I was about an hour and a half from the FedEx store, I decided to leave and if I arrived before my package did, then I could sit and wait there as easily as I could sit in the campground I’d been staying at. That turned out to be a good decision because by the time I arrived, so had my generator. I plugged it in and all systems worked, so I had electricity again. And just for kicks, I tried my propane setting on my fridge, and it worked. I don’t know how or why, but I don’t question when good things happen.
After getting my solar system back, I went to pick up some groceries. I was starving so stopped in at a pizza place and got a small veggie pizza. It was big enough for lunch, dinner and two slices left over for breakfast the next morning. I drove to my next stop–an Amazon locker location where my friend Richard sent me a DC charger for my laptop. (If AC power goes out again, I will at least be able to charge my laptop through my van’s cigarette lighter—I have one in the front and one in the back and I have a “splitter” that allows me to plug in up to 6 USB devices at once.) The package hadn’t yet arrived, so I drove in rush hour traffic on I-5 and I-80 through Sacramento to get to my destination for the night—Cracker Barrel parking lot. A year ago, I used to be freaked out at having to drive on rutted, washboarded dirt roads to get to a campsite. Now that has become the norm and driving in traffic in a city is quite daunting for me. There sure is a lot of aggression on the highways around cities and towns. It’s not nearly so aggressive on back roads heading to BLM land or through National Forests.
I easily got settled in at Cracker Barrel. I took a spot in a back corner and was the only one in the back part of the lot. After dark two other vans joined me, parking at opposite corners. We all had plenty of room. Although Cracker Barrel was not at all busy, the adjacent Korean Steak House was doing a brisk business. I got up several times to check my solar generator because I thought I smelled smoke. It took me quite a while to realize it was the smell of steaks cooked on flame. Cracker Barrel parking lot is often noisy and way over-lit. This night, the lot was very subdued, but the cars coming and going and the chatter and laughter of people leaving the steak house made it difficult to get to sleep. I must have dozed off because I was awakened at 11:30 with Cosmo barking. I immediately heard a voice saying “OK, OK, I’m going” from way too close to the van. An apparently homeless man was carrying an old bicycle and headed over to the Korean Steak House parking lot. I watched as he made his way to a small ditch between the lot and the drainage ditch. In the morning when I walked Cosmo, I saw empty cans of tuna and dirty blankets back in that area. It appeared to be a place for the homeless to spend the night. I saw no signs of anyone still there, but didn’t examine the area too closely.
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I left Cracker Barrel and headed south. I had two possibilities of places to stay, neither one great, but also neither one was going to be horrible. I thought. I went first to Flying J Truck stop. I stayed at a very nice one once, where I did laundry, got a shower, had a very nice spot away from other vehicles and got a Cinnabon for breakfast. I’ve also driven to really bad ones and didn’t stay. This one was a really bad one, and I left right away and headed toward my back-up plan. The app I use to find free camping said it was “a nice level parking lot used by truckers and RV’s. Nothing fancy, but a safe and easy place to spend the night.” I got there and the lot had signs that said “Private Property. No Parking. Violators towed at owner’s expense. Now what? I pulled out my maps and notes and decided to drive to the place I’d picked out for the following night. It meant driving an extra hour, but I’d stayed at this same place last year and loved it. It would be nice to spend the extra night there. I got in my van, left the illegal lot and the van immediately started sputtering, and bucking and lost power. “Oh NO!” I thought. “What a place to break down.” (like there is a GOOD place to break down.) I gave it some gas, and it sputtered and bucked and backfired some more until it would not go over 2 mph. I pulled over and lifted the hood. Why I do that, I can’t tell you. I don’t know what anything under the hood is, or what it does, so how would I know if something was amiss? I guess I think that perhaps I’ll see a squirrel caught in a belt and think “OH. THERE’s the problem.” But no squirrel. I pulled up my maps on my phone and saw a gas station 1 mile away. I started the van and drove easily to the Arco, with no bucking or loss of power. I went in and got some Heet, which I’ve used before when I got dirt or water in my gas tank. I poured the liquid in the gas tank, and plotted my new course on back roads. I wasn’t sure which would be worse: To break down on a back road near Gilroy, CA or to break down at rush hour on I-5. I chose the back road. I drove to my destination with no issues whatsoever. This same thing happened to me last Christmas when I was driving. I think it must be something in the gas line that works itself out.
At any rate I got to my new campsite along the San Luis Reservoir. The lake/reservoir is beautiful and looks pretty clear, but signs at the guard shack say that there is a toxic algae bloom and the water may be harmful to humans and deadly to animals. We always err on the side of caution. So no swimming but I did take lots of photos of all the amazing water fowl. There is a siege of white egrets, a sedge of blue herons, and Pod (brief, or squad) of pelicans. There is also a raft of ducks. (Ah, the Google machine is an amazing thing.)
We sat outside much of the day, in the shade of a pavilion next to the van. I was close enough to the Wi-Fi in my van to be able to use my laptop outside. Cosmo did his usual squirrel watching. At night it cooled off considerably and I sat and listened to the waves (the wind had picked up too) lapping the shore at the back end of the van. I heard a coyote howling in the middle of the night, and later some creature screeched nearby. I don’t think I would have been aware of either had Cosmo not gotten out of bed to check out the foreign sounds. I slept long and hard.
The next couple of days were equally laid back. I have been sleeping in (7:00 a.m.) I think because the weather is so cool at night and I sleep with my windows open. It is also pitch black out and the lapping of waves on the shore is nature’s perfect sound machine. After our morning “pee walk” I get back in bed with a mug of hot coffee and a black dog laying across my legs, snoring gently. I read e-mail, read some headlines, and of course do Wordle and NY Times mini-crossword. Sometimes I listen to a podcast. When I finally get out of bed, we go for a serious walk and afterwards, we have breakfast. I sit outside at the picnic table and read, or we walk some more, and when we tire of that, we move inside and play on the computer. It’s good work if you can get it.
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We left Thursday morning for Fresno. We made better time than expected, until we made it to the city limits. We got blocked by a train. It moved very slowly, inching along until it got out of the roadway and the gates lifted. A few cars in front of us got through before the light turned red, and then the train backed up and blocked our path again. And it stopped. And it stayed stopped for a very long time. I finally maneuvered into the left turn land and when the light changed, I took a left and drove past the front of the stopped train. I thought I could take the next right and get back on track, but the next road was blocked off due to construction. I drove several miles and turned right. I should have been very close to Mary’s by that point, but Google Maps has some sort of aneurism. It instructed me to go down a road and turn right on Citrus Avenue. The road came to a dead end and there was no Citrus Avenue. I followed the road on the right and it drove me in circles several times, insisting that I make a right on Citrus. I finally called Mary who gave me directions. I was only a few blocks away. All the way there, even after I pulled into my parking spot in front of Mary’s condo, Google kept insisting that I make a U turn and go back to Citrus. I’m going to have to check my settings to see if I can fix that before I start heading south again.
As always, life at Mary’s is very low-key. We sat and chatted. Mary made a snack plate with cheeses, veggies, crackers and fruit and we sat in the kitchen, picked at the treats, and caught up. Mary and I have been friends long enough that even after not seeing her for a year, we just picked up where we left off. Cosmo was totally jacked up and did zoomies around the living room and then decided to spin in circles, chasing his tail. I guess he tired himself out.
I had been wanting to get my ears re-pierced since before I left Delaware. In “the olden days,” you could just go into any jewelry store and they would pierce your ears for free (with a punch-like device) if you paid for earrings. During the pandemic, NOBODY in Delaware was doing that, most jewelry stores stopped doing it and many department stores closed their jewelry departments. So I’ve been wanting to do this but never got around to it. I mentioned it to Mary and when I got there she took me to the Fresno Mall and we went to Clare’s Jewelry Store and I picked out two tiny studs with blue zircons and the girl a the counter just snipped them in within a minute. Easy Peasy.
We came back to Mary’s place and had a gin and tonic and then she took me out to The Spaghetti Factory where I got my favorite two pastas—marinara with mushroom and browned butter and Mizithra Cheese. Served up with a salad, and fresh baked bread and a glass of Merlot, it was perfection. We came home and after letting dinner settle a bit, Mary made me an ice cream sundae with double chocolate chunk ice cream and whipped cream and a cherry in one of those tall sundae glasses and a long spoon. What a perfect ending to a perfect day
Lessons From The Road: When I started this journey a year ago, I was aware of two types of RV/Van dwellers: There were the RV Park types, and “Boondockers.” The RV Park people, book their stays in upscale (they think) RV parks and resorts, weeks, months, or even a year in advance. They take their RV’s out on the road on weekends, or when they use their two-weeks vacation from work. Most of the places they stay have full hook-ups, meaning they supply water, electricity and a place to empty your sewage tank. The Boondockers spend much of their time looking for the next stop. They stay on public land or in State or County Parks that are free. There are rarely any amenities, outside of the possibility of a dumpster to get rid of your trash. Otherwise, “Pack it in-Pack it out.”
In the year and a half that I’ve been on the road, I’ve realized there is a variety of camping styles in between those two. There is “dry camping” which can be free or possibly have a very small fee. This is often on State or County land or in some parks. They don’t have any hook-ups—no water, electricity or dumping stations (thus, dry) so you have to bring what you need for the stay which is usually limited to 2 or 3 nights. There is also “stealth camping” which means parking in some spot, often on a public street which may not be 100% kosher. You pull over after dark and leave at dawn and hope you don’t get “the knock” by the police in the middle of the night. The opposite of this is Resort “camping” (although there is nothing about this kind of “camping” that suggests roughing it,like collecting firewood, or sleeping in a sleeping bag on the ground.) There are many “resorts” for RV’s that have swimming pools, game rooms, spas, hot tubs and services like nail salon and massages available. They are quite expensive, but I suppose much cheaper than their equivalent resorts, because you bring your own room with you. Some of these are clubs you can join and pay a yearly fee and stay at any of their locations around the country (usually with MANY restrictions and time limits) either free or for a small additional fee.
There is also “driveway surfing” which is staying in friend’s driveways as you travel around the country, or around the state, or wherever your friends happen to be located. I’ve come across many hybrids of the above and most “van people” do some combination of all of these. In my travels I’ve found some very simple “resorts” (one I stayed at for 3 days outside of Phoenix which was listed as a “spa” but was a very funky, old hippie-type place with palm trees and various hot tubs. Some were old claw foot bathtubs, some were larger, built-in concrete community tubs. The setting reminded me of a hybrid between an old western movie and Gilligan’s Island. I absolutely loved it. It was cheap to park and spend the night, and you had unlimited use of any of the tubs. The people were a very interesting mix of everything from millennials to geriatric, but all were friendly, welcoming, non-judgmental, and often, naked.
There are also some groups you can join that connect wineries and breweries with traveling customers and in return, they allow you to stay in their parking lot overnight after you’ve sampled, and hopefully bought, lots of their wines and beers. And there is another group of people (mostly RV owners themselves, but not always) who allow RV’ers to come stay on their property for free, either because they want to meet other RV people, or because they just want to meet travelers, nomads, and people with a different lifestyle.
I’ve done all of these, but my favorite is Boondocking on BLM land or in a National Forest. They have no designated sites; you just find a clearing, pull in and you’re home. I also like driveway surfing, when I am near accommodating friends, and this coming month should afford me much time to visit friends and stay in or in front of their homes.
When I’m in parking lots like Cracker Barrel or Walmart for the night, I’m very aware of homeless people. Some are in cars, and I assume they are homeless, because their front passenger seat is usually filled with “stuff.” They put up reflective insulation over all their windows and crawl in the back to sleep. Maybe they are just nomads and live a much simpler life than I do. Often there are clearly homeless people in lots and fields adjacent to the parking lots where I’m staying. It is a very strange mix of people and quite an interesting subculture of Americans.
I’ve been quite tuned-in to articles in the news about the homeless population in this country. Many of the articles I read blur the lines between the homeless and van lifers. It is becoming a growing problem, not only that more and more people can’t afford housing, but that nobody wants them in their neighborhoods. The police come and clear out homeless camps under freeway overpasses, but often just leave their tarps, shopping carts and makeshift dwellings, further infuriating the people who live nearby. I watched a YouTube video about a man who lived in an abandoned tunnel off a subway line. He had a computer (tied into old, but still working power in the subway) and a mattress and a table and chair. He went daily for water from a nearby gas station and got some pretty wonderful food from dumpsters in affluent neighborhoods (You’d be shocked at what marvelous culinary delights Whole Foods throws out because they are a day old). I often think of the many things I have in common with these people. My social security check is under $1,000 a month. There are not many options for housing on that budget. With gas and food prices skyrocketing, one must be fairly creative to manage the necessities of life on a shoestring. But I have a home that I love, even though it’s on wheels. I don’t have to crawl into a tunnel or forage in dumpsters for my dinner. Yet, my life intersects with this portion of the population quite often. Should everyone have the right to a safe place to sleep? Should there be laws against sleeping in a public park? I don’t know what the answers are. I just know it is a growing problem that most of America would like to sweep under the carpet.