Sunday morning I went into town. It is just a 5 minute drive down a rough dirt road. The town was quite dead. The laundromat was closed (I thought Sunday was the big day for everyone to do their wash) but the dollar store was open, so I got milk, dog treats and some snacks. As I drove down the dirt road, I looked closely at the collapsed trailer and truck left after the huge storm this fall that left the resident dead. I noticed that the back window had been smashed out of his truck. I hadn’t noticed it before. Could this have been a recent event? Farther down the road there was another class C RV with a lot of junk outside. The position of the sun (it was still early morning) illuminated that it too had a couple windows smashed out. I’d driven past both of these at least 3 or 4 times and never noticed the missing glass. I suppose people smashed the windows to get in and see if there was anything worth salvaging, or perhaps worse, they threw rocks at the windows of these abandoned dwellings and vehicles just for something destructive to do. I don’t know, but both made me sad thinking about the former occupants. I know the guy closest to me was killed in a storm that blew so hard it collapsed the trailer walls in on him. The person down the hill? Maybe he just left one day and didn’t come back. Maybe he too died inside and the powers that be just removed the body and left the rest for the human vultures. I’d love to know the stories behind both. Who were these people? They were living a life similar to mine, perhaps under different circumstances, but on some level, they were my tribe. And now they are gone, and what’s left of their existence here is just rubble and fodder for rock target practice.
I reheated my coffee from earlier in the morning and sat looking out over the desert. I had parked facing south, with the road behind me, to get the most sun on my solar panels. I normally park facing the road, allowing for a quick exit should the need arise and also offering a bit more privacy as I primarily live in the rear of my van. I parked far enough from the road that it didn’t matter which direction I parked. In the distance, there are mountains on every side of me and in between, I could barely make out small towns. At night, the colored lights illuminate distant truck stops, without polluting the night sky. I can still see the Milky Way if I stay out for a bit and allow my eyes to adjust.
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We left Ehrenberg early on Monday morning. (Well, not THAT early…we were on the road about 9:30 or so). I stopped at Albertson’s and picked up what I may need for the next week. I had intended to stop after leaving Palm Springs and restock my food supplies, but I realized I’d be going shopping on BLACK FRIDAY!!! Nope! So I’m stocked up for the next few days, then Thanksgiving with Roy and Tom and then I’d still have enough to get me through the weekend. I got to Joshua Tree BLM before noon. I drove to my favorite spot, but it was occupied. So I parked at the spot closer to the road. It’s still a nice spot, just not the perfect spot. But it was 72 degrees and sunny and beautiful, and my fire ring (not the greatest fire ring I’ve ever seen someone build, but adequate) had wood left from the last occupant.
The sunset and sunrise the next morning were as astounding as ever. I never tire of watching the sun near the horizon, with clouds blazing red and pink and orange. I slept like a dog (I don’t comprehend the expression “slept like a baby.” Babies get up crying every few hours. I didn’t get up and I certainly didn’t cry.) I awoke just as the crescent moon was rising above the mountains in the east. I knew that meant the sun was not far behind. I got up and put the coffee on and Cosmo and I went out to greet the day. There was a chill in the air, but it was mostly pleasant and with each moment the sun got higher in the sky and I could feel the air warming.
I have been trying to wean myself from news, but this morning I made an exception. There was an article in the NY Times about the veteran who stopped the shooter at the queer nightclub in Colorado from doing more damage than he’d already done. He jumped on the shooter, assisted by (and I swear this is an exact quote from the Times) “A drag performer stomped on the gunman with high heels.” I smiled and fought back tears at the same time. Turns out the NRA has been proven wrong. The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a drag queen in high heels. If the Dems don’t jump on this meme, they are missing the opportunity of a lifetime. The Times did an outstanding job of talking about those murdered, describing them, their lives, and how friends will remember them. It brought tears to my eyes once again. There but for the grace of god…
There was an editorial by Michelle Goldberg about how the right wing has played a part in all of this, demonizing gay people (though they’ve mostly given up on run-of-the-mill gays and lesbians and turned their sites to trans people and drag queens.) She pointed out how dangerous the lies about teachers and librarians “grooming” our children can be. She wrote about how irresponsible it is for politicians to condemn “Drag Queen Story Time” in libraries, and how politicians who spread hate are at least partially responsible for the bloodshed that such hate-speak provokes. It was a good read.
Meanwhile, out here on BLM land south of JTNP, neighbors walk by with their dogs. They smile and wave and say “good morning” as they pass by. I don’t know if they are gay or straight or one of the many options in between. I don’t know if there are any trans people camping here, or if any of the butch men passing by may be drag queens on the weekend. Nobody asks me what my pronouns are. And it doesn’t matter. There is something that overrides such labels. There is a connection to the desert, to Pacha Mama, and to each other.
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I left Wednesday morning and drove down to Fantasy Springs. Yeah, I know. It sounds like a brothel, but it is a casino on Indian land. There is a huge dirt parking lot behind one of the main parking lots. The asphalt lot has warning signs saying “No Parking, No overnight Camping, No RV’s” but right beyond that is the dirt lot with lots of RV’s. For whatever reason, this year (I’ve stayed here in the past) there were an inordinate number of large (Greyhound Bus) Class-A motor homes. No matter, it is a pleasant place to stay, and people are mostly cordial. It was an effortless and uneventful night.
On Thanksgiving morning, we pulled up stakes and headed about 25 minutes east into Cathedral City (Palm Springs) where we joined Roy and Tom for Thanksgiving dinner. We sat and visited, got caught up, and Roy and I got in the spa adjacent to their backyard swimming pool. Very nice indeed. Then Roy started cooking what still needed to be cooked (They’d done a lot of the work the day before) and I made cranberry sauce (Thank you Leslie). After a Manhattan, we sat down to a feast, everything vegetarian except the turkey breast. It was delicious, and even though I was pretty full, I went back for seconds of everything, and still managed to scarf down two different desserts. After dinner, Cosmo and I headed to the RV storage lot (just a block away) and we slept peacefully there. In the morning we walked back to Roy and Tom’s and Roy, Cosmo and I sat out on the back balcony overlooking a golf course and Palm Springs Airport. We watched the planes come and go as the sun worked its way around to shine on us and warm things up.
We left there late morning and drove back to Joshua Tree BLM land. As we exited I-10, I hoped my favorite spot would be vacant. It was and I pulled in and got leveled up. It’s a huge spot, down a side “road” and that’s nice because when people come in late at night, if you are parked on the main loop, you often have people pulling in and out and shining their high beams in your windows, oblivious that others got here at a reasonable hour and were already asleep. Back where I parked, that’s very unlikely to happen.
Roy and Tom sent me home with lots of leftovers, and when I got back to JTBLM, I saw Rob, a man I’d met there on Monday. He is staying in a pop-up camper, and his car had been re-possessed the week before, so he really had no way of moving his camper now. I asked if he was hungry and told him I had lots of Thanksgiving leftovers and he was invited for dinner. He gladly accepted. He has a small dog, so he and Doggo, and Cosmo and I took a long walk around the second loop. Surprisingly, most sites were vacant. I thought they might be full due to the holiday weekend.
He went back home and I got some chores taken care of. He returned an hour later, with his plate (I only have one dinner-size plate) and we feasted once again on the many dishes Tom and Roy had sent home with me. After we ate, we sat in the back of my van and chatted for an hour or so before he headed home and I went to bed. A check-in phone call from Richard made the evening complete.
When Cosmo and I went for our good-night walk, I noticed a lot of lights throughout the BLM land. Apparently, some new people came while we were having dinner. In the morning, Cosmo and I did our tour of the neighborhood and discovered quite a few tent campers, and several groups camped together with a variety of tents, vans and tiny pull-behind campers. I think the combination of Thanksgiving days off and nice weather brought out some “one nighters.” No one was too rowdy at night, and everyone was pleasant to us on our morning walk. One man we passed, middle aged and quite rotund, came out of his rig buck-naked. He saw Cosmo and me walking down the road in his direction and withdrew to the doorway until we passed. I wanted to say “You know, we can still see you, right?” but instead I shouted just loud enough for him to hear “Hey! I have that exact same outfit.” He retreated farther inside until we passed.
I talked to a woman named Kristy in a van down the road. She had some good suggestions of a place to stay in Santa Barbara in the summer. There is a state park where you can be “park host.” It is different from camp hosting in that the park is day use only, so if you are the host, at 4:30 you lock the gate and you have the whole park to yourself until 8:00 a.m. She said the hosting duties are easy and take little time and it is so nice to have the entire park to yourself in the evenings and at night after everyone leaves. I will certainly check it out.
Lessons From The Road: I have been eating some amazing meals. Last week I made a batch of Leslie’s (soon to be) world famous cranberry sauce.
- One bag fresh cranberries
- One whole orange, cut in segments, with peel
- One cup sugar
- Blend in food processor, blender, or whatever until you get it to your desired consistency.
It is absolutely delicious. No cooking. Takes 5 minutes, tops. Do it! You won’t be sorry. I’m going to stock up on cranberries because I’m betting you can’t get fresh cranberries after the holidays.
I also made a delicious dish with a packet of cheddar broccoli single serving soup mix. I sauteed mushrooms, spinach, and broccoli rabe and then put the soup mix (with just a little less water than they suggested for soup) in with it until it thickened. I poured it over brown rice. One pot to wash (and a bowl) and so quick and easy.
For breakfast I mixed some leftover brown rice with diced onion and sharp cheddar cheese. I put in just enough egg to hold it all together (I have started buying egg and egg whites in a carton. It just stores better and serves me well when I only need a partial egg, or an egg and a half for just this sort of meal). I put it in my mini waffle iron (be sure it is very hot and adequately oiled, or your “waffle’ will pull apart when you check it prematurely) and cooked until brown on the outside and still a bit fluffy on the inside. Topped with some fresh salsa and a drizzle of sour cream (sour cream in a bottle stores better and is so easy to use) and you have a meal fit for a king (or maybe even a drag queen).
I think I may have to do a “Nomad Cookbook” at some point.
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That’s all I’ve got for now.
See you down the road!
Scott
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCx9L4rW4Orsox-BDA4ebmmQ