This past weekend I was with my friend Kitty and my newfound friend, Chase. He is smart, masculine, has a good sense of humor, and is very considerate and independent. We all sat out at the campfire Saturday night and had a delightful time.
Kitty left Sunday before noon to go home and get some work done. Chase and I stayed behind and without much speaking or planning, managed to spend most of the week together. On Monday I ran out of water, so Tuesday morning I drove into Joshua Tree National Park to dump trash and fill my fresh water tank. I invited Chase to come with me and offered to show him where the potable water was and then on to the dumpsters. He followed me in, and I told him I’d follow him back to the BLM land, 5 miles south. I told him to choose whether he wanted to stay at the site we’d been in (a very excellent site, if I do say so myself) or pick another inviting spot just a bit down the road, with nothing behind it. He chose the new site, and it was even more outstanding than the previous one.
Chase is…hmm, I’m stuck for a word. I was going to say “mountain man” but that isn’t quite right. Conservationist for sure. He avoids stepping on plants and tries to avoid areas where pack rats dug tunnels.
{Those are our vans in the background. You can see how isolated we are from everyone. Bliss!}
At each spot we occupied, the first thing he did was to empty the fire circle and rake through, getting rid of all the nails left from burning pallets and all the broken glass from inconsiderate campers smashing their Corona bottles. He reminded me of a miner panning for gold, as he meticulously got rid of anything that wasn’t ash or wood chunks. Afterwards, I rebuilt the fire pits and I have to say, there was something subtly satisfying about sitting around a newly cleaned fire ring.
We hiked/walked every day. In spite of the fact that I averaged 7 miles most days, I couldn’t keep up with him and he most often continued on after I turned back to our campsite. Sometimes, we’d find a downed ocotillo cactus and break off big arms of the prickly succulent and drag them back to camp for the night’s fire.
Other times, I’d give up and go back to camp and make lunch or dinner and he’d show up an hour later with a haul of wood for the night’s fire. We did most of this without discussion or planning. It just felt natural to do our own thing and weave in and out of each other’s daily activities. For me, it was a splendid balance of having company and being on my own. We had blazing fires every night and often sat around the pit laughing and chatting or sitting there silently just appreciating the fire, the full moon, the company.
{Moonrise over JTNP}
I’ve spent much time with Bonnie in Ehrenberg, and Kitty has been an ongoing camping buddy whenever she can get away and I’m within driving distance. Taking nothing away from either of them, it was quite nice for me to have some male-bonding time. I spent much of each day with Chase either hiking or collecting wood or sharing meals in the back of my van. He came over for morning coffee every day, and on one particularly windy day, we stayed inside and he taught me to play Farkle (a dice game). It was one of the best weeks I’ve had on the road so far.
I’ve stayed frequently (probably months, if you add it all up) in the BLM land south of JTNP. My first stay in October of 2021, I kept close to the main road that went into the National Park, thinking the roads through the BLM land were pretty rough with high probability of getting stuck in the sand. But each time I went back, I ventured in a bit farther, and each time I was rewarded with fewer people and much more spectacular scenery. This trip was no different; We moved three times in the week we were here together, and each time went farther back, into bigger sites, with neighbors farther and farther away every time we moved.
I’d planned on going “on vacation” early in the week to Fountain of Youth mineral hot springs, but with each move to a “nicer neighborhood,” and with enjoying my newfound connection so much, I ended up staying until Thursday morning before heading out to the waters.
### ### ###
I woke up Thursday morning, and started packing up for my “vacation” to FOY mineral hot springs. It was sunny and warm and Cosmo and I took a short walk. Shortly after we got back, Chase came out of his van and I invited him for coffee. He came to my van; I made coffee and reheated my leftover spaghetti from the previous night. Chase brought his oatmeal and we sat outside, facing the rising sun. I was a little sad. I had so enjoyed spending time with him and as much as I was looking forward to sitting in hot tubs and heated swimming pools and taking as many steamy showers as I wanted, I was already missing his company and our routines. We went for a walk after breakfast and he said he’d stay there and hold our spot until I returned on Saturday. I hugged him goodbye and headed toward Coachella to the Super Walmart where I bought as much food as I could possibly fit in my van and a new pair of flip-flops as well—all for $85. I don’t like Walmart, but I sure like affordable food.
From there, I headed southeast to Niland, California, just past Slab City and the Salton Sea. I arrived and asked for a spot close to the tubs and pools and they gave me one that is about 50 feet from the entrance to all the hot mineral waters. I suspect it was still open because most people don’t want to be that close to water volleyball at 7:00 a.m. and again before they close at 10:00 p.m. I liked it because it meant being very close to the van—close enough to see it and just a few second walk to check on Cosmo who wasn’t a welcome guest in the pools. I got settled in and headed to the laundry room and did two loads of laundry. While my clothes went through the wash/dry cycle, I climbed into a hot tub with a bunch of other old men. Remember the movie Cocoon? Same cast in the hot tub, sans Steve Guttenberg. Oh well. I was the youngest hottest man there. That doesn’t happen often. Unfortunately, that meant that every other semi-naked man was older and fatter than I am. The lack of eye candy was by far offset by the delightful, hot mineral waters. My skin let out a huge sigh of relief.
Friday I spent a full day at FOY. I got up and showered and put in another load of wash. While it washed and dried, I sat in the hot tub. My friend Roy from Palm Springs drove over and joined me for lunch. We walked, ate lunch, caught up and sat in a hot tub for a while. It was so nice to have company. I like to visit friends on the road, but I really enjoy when friends visit ME. After only one day there, as I walked through the compound, I sometimes heard someone shout “hey Scott.” I would turn and see someone I chatted with that morning or the night before. Such a sense of inclusion. I looked up the rates; they have daily, weekly, monthly and seasonal rates. I think I’ll plan on coming here for at least a week next winter. I think it could be a lot of fun.
My last night at Fountain of Youth was calm, quiet, pleasant. After only two days there, it was so familiar that it felt like home. I had talked to several people, some who asked (and remembered) my name, so it wasn’t unusual to pass someone when I was walking Cosmo, or hopping from one hot tub to another, to have someone say “Hi Scott.” Even those I’d never met always said “Good morning” or “Hi, how are you?” when we passed each other. It was a small community, and everyone was, at the very least, neighborly.
I met a man from Canada while sitting in one of the hot tubs. We chatted and seemed to have a similar outlook on life. I felt there was a chemistry. It was getting dark and he asked if I wanted to take a walk. I said I would and we walked around the small town that was FOY (actually, it was much more expansive than I’d guessed). He asked where I was staying and we went back to my van and hung out for an hour or so. It was a nice connection, some human contact, mutual kindness and a pleasant experience exchanged between ships passing in the night.
In the morning before leaving, I drove to the upper level and topped off my water tank, gave Cosmo a bath at the dog wash station, and hosed off my dirty van. It was bittersweet to leave; I felt like I wanted a few more days of such luxury, but Chase was holding “our spot” back at Joshua Tree, Kitty was driving back there for the weekend, and an old friend—the first nomad I met on the road—was coming Monday to spend a night with me there. As much as I enjoyed my mini-vacation, I was excited to get back to see Chase and Kitty again.
Lessons From The Road:
In a discussion with a friend some time ago, about being on the road and sharing with each other she said “Oh. You’re a communist!” I was taken aback at the insult, because having gone to a Catholic school, the only worse insult than calling someone a communist was to call them an atheist. But she said, “From each according to their ability to each according to their need.” Wow. I guess I AM a communist. I prefer to think of myself as a “voluntary communist.” I suspect when you throw a dictator into the works, it is not very pleasant, but here in nomad land, I’ve gotten a glimpse of how it could really work if kindness were the order of the day. I offered to make corn muffins in my new, tiny waffle maker. I had veggie chili and Chase had salad fixin’s. Kitty had desert. We all got in the back of my van, sat around my tiny table, and feasted like royalty. Cooperation. Kindness. Voluntary Communism. Kitty left Sunday, but Chase and I have hung out all week. I love to cook. Chase loves to hike and collect firewood (this week, he brought home several huge chunks of downed ocotillo cactus). I joined him on several hikes, but I’m not very good at keeping up with the distances he hikes, and I’m definitely not a pack mule. But I cooked several meals for us, as he gathered firewood for our evening fire. Voluntary communism. It worked this week, at least on a small scale.
I think the U.S. government is broken. Maybe broken beyond repair. I think the media exacerbates it; I think the stupidity of the American people makes it unworkable. I’ve dropped out. And I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Selfishly, as long as I keep getting my Social Security check WHICH IS NOT AN ENTITLEMENT BECAUSE I PAID INTO FOR MANY, MANY YEARS, I really don’t expect or want much else from the United States Government. I’m not interested in what they do. I am rooting for all of you and your country, but after seeing YouTube clips from The State of the Union Address, I don’t hold out much hope that it can be fixed. I’ve moved on to a country that is (for the most part) kind, where people will help each other, regardless of political or religious beliefs. I am loving it here.