“Ease on down, ease on down the road.”
~ Charlie Smalls
Just as I got settled in and realized that I absolutely LOVED my new spot on BLM land a couple of miles south of Winslow.
I looked at the weather forecast. I wasn’t going to be able to stay because the temperatures were rapidly heading toward triple digits. I decided to move Tuesday morning, stay in Two Guns until that too got too hot and then move back to Flagstaff.
Continuing to keep an eye on the forecast, I decided Wednesday that I could possibly make it in Two Guns until Saturday. But Saturday is not a good time to move to Flagstaff and try to find a comfortable spot with all the weekenders coming up from Phoenix. I made the decision to move to Flagstaff on Thursday morning and see if I could find an empty, somewhat isolated spot at Marshall Lake. If not, I’d drive on to Ashurst Lake where most of the weekenders actually drive up to the lake and stay at a paid campground. I could pull off on BLM land right before the lake and stay in weather 10 degrees cooler than Two Guns was experiencing. I’m sad to leave Two Guns and was quite sad to leave Winslow as well. Coconino forest (outside of Flagstaff) is beautiful; the people who come to rape and pillage, not so much. The altitude provides some relief from the heat, but is it worth it if you have to put up with idiots who have zero respect for the land and other campers?
I answered that question on Thursday morning when the heat was already unbearable at 8:00 a.m. I packed up and drove to Walmart in Flagstaff. I’d already gotten water and propane in Winslow, so I just needed a couple food essentials and I’d be set for 10 days—maybe even two weeks. After that I stopped to do laundry. I had plenty of clean clothes, probably enough to last me a month or more, but my gym shorts/swim trunks which I wear mostly every day when it’s hot needed more than the rinse I gave them in the shower. I washed them with a few t-shirts and towels and while they were rolling around in the washer, I walked over to Burger King for my annual Impossible Whopper. Can’t believe I paid $15 for not-so- healthy fast food. But I did, and I enjoyed it and won’t have that craving now for a very long time. I dried my clothes and decided to bypass Marshall Lake all together, and headed straight for Ashurst Lake. I was saddened to see as I drove on Lake Mary Road that Lake Mary was just a dry field. It is larger than Marshall Lake and Ashurst Lake combined and it was nothing more than a dry lakebed with a mud puddle at one end. I turned up Ashurst Lake Road and pulled off onto Forest Road 82 onto what is always a very rugged, rutted dirt road. (Unless it is raining and then it turns into La Brea Tar Pit, threatening to suck in Cosmo and me to be found by archaeologists a few thousand years from now.) The spaces closest to Ashurst Lake Road were already full at noon on a Thursday. One had a half dozen rigs in it and I had no intention of being anywhere near them for the weekend. I drove into the forest much farther than I ever had before and found a nice clearing as the road was getting very difficult. I set up in a clearing and put out my tent in the shadow of a tall pine hoping it would look like several people were already occupying the site.
Then Cosmo and I took a long walk, going even deeper into the woods and finding some very nice spots if I was willing to drive extremely slowly down the forest path. Many sites beyond mine looked inviting and I made note of them in case I needed a backup plan.
Temperatures were in the low 80’s during the day which is a lot more comfortable than the 99+ temperatures at my two most recent stops. I sat outside in the shade and read and Cosmo looked for squirrels and rabbits which I think is much more exciting to him than watching me watching YouTube. It was a nice week.
Lessons From The Road: Packing up to move is such a daunting chore for me. At least in my head. In reality, it usually takes me less than 20 minutes, including doing the dishes from the night before. I decided what made it seem like such an extreme task, is my brain putting a deadline on the entire project. I usually feel (on moving days, which I often plan well in advance), that I’ve got to get up and get moving. No time for a second cup of coffee. No time to finish my e-mails. Just get up, pack up and get on the road. I realized this week that I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. When I decided to move to a different section of Winslow BLM land, I spent some time cleaning and doing dishes first. I brought in my plants and solar lights, and then sat and had some more coffee. I went out with Cosmo and walked several paths that I thought would be viable options for a new campsite to avoid constant traffic past my van. I found two, and then went back to the van. I took in the solar panels, and my table and chair, and tied everything down. (even if only moving a few yards, anything not tied down on such rough roads will go crashing around inside the van.) I moved about a quarter mile away, unpacked, re-set up my solar panels, and put out my plants. All this, including the exploring took well under an hour. Why was I making such a fuss? And the new place was just about perfect. There was a big clearing where Cosmo and I could play ball, and I set up a table and chair so we could sit outside and catch what little breeze there was.
By Monday, the weather forecast was for it to get increasingly hotter every day until it would be totally unbearable before the weekend. I had to move. So on Tuesday morning I packed up again, and like last time, put no deadline on the project. I would stop in Winslow for propane, gas, fresh water and a few groceries. If I didn’t get it done until mid-afternoon, so what? I was only driving back to Two Guns less than a half an hour away. I did all my packing and errands and unpacking and setting up camp in Two Guns before noon. And I’m going to do it all over again in a day or two and head back to Flagstaff as even Two Guns will be nearly 100⁰ by Saturday. My lesson is to stop freaking out over packing and moving. It’s really not that big of a deal.