“I think how even in the vast anonymity of a parking lot, the simplest gesture can take the edge off of nomadic life.”
~ Juergen Barbusca
No Overnight Parking
One of the benefits of staying put for a couple of weeks is that one develops a routine. Having a routine means not having to worry about or deal with things like driving for water, or groceries, or propane. Since I went into town and did all my chores for the week last Thursday, the rest of my stay in Bloody Basin meant I had very little to do. Cosmo and I developed a routine of going out to pee and realigning the solar panels each morning at 7:10 when the sun finally made it over the nearby hill in the east. I’d go out first to make sure the coast was clear of coyotes and cows, and then Cosmo could come out off-leash and wander as I rearranged the solar suitcases and moved my solar lights to best catch the morning sun. By then the coffee was ready and we’d climb back into bed; Cosmo to catch 40 more winks and me to check e-mail and read the NY Times’ headlines. It was a very nice, lazy routine to start our days.
I spent some time several afternoons plotting my trip south and figuring out where I wanted to be and when it would be cool enough (below 100˚) to arrive there. I made reservations at a very cheap campground which has only a few sites and all were available. Since they have no hookups and since it is still petty early in the season, I think I’m likely to be alone, which is fine by me. I tried to figure out where to get water along the way because I’m surely going to run out by Friday if not before. I can usually make it 10 days to 2 weeks on a full tank. Friday will be day 15. I wasn’t feeling very reassured by searching my usual apps and websites that I use to find potable water. Luckily, Patsy, the rancher up the road, stopped by and asked how I was doing. I told her I was fine and we chatted. Then I thought to ask her about potable water in town and relayed my story about the place where I usually get water and the men who basically told me to get lost. She said, “You don’t need to go into town. Just drive up the hill. I’ve got plenty of water and you are welcome to come fill up.” A relief washed over me. A sure thing. Bird in hand. I told her I’d come up Friday morning on my way out and she said that would be fine. She added, “It’s well water. The best you’ve ever drunk. You’ll be spoiled.”
Not having to drive back into town (north of me: I’m heading south) meant that I didn’t have to get groceries at either of the two tiny “grocery stores.” They are pretty much inadequate in every way, and seriously overpriced. I checked my route and sure enough there was a Walmart Super Center a block from the route I would be traveling. I’m not a big supporter or Walmart and their policies, but they nearly always have everything I need, from pet supplies, to groceries, to hardware, to any repair items I want. And they are always way cheaper than any grocery store in town. This will probably be my last stop at a Walmart until April or May, so I started an extensive shopping list.
I spoke with Matt on the phone several times this week. We’re both super excited to get back to Quartzsite and hoping to get our same spot as last year and set up our compound again. We talked about the things we did and the places we stayed last winter, and decided to spend more time by the river after Skoolie, and definitely get to Holtsville Hot Springs earlier in the season before it starts getting hot. We talked about how much we enjoyed Thanksgiving together and Matt said he’d heard that there is a place in Quartzsite that has a buffet that might be even better than our dinner at the VFW last year. We made plans to see if we can scope it out and make reservations way ahead of time as he said he thought they booked up fast. (By Thanksgiving, the tiny town of Quartzsite has 500,000 snowbirds, all not wanting to cook for Thanksgiving.)
Wednesday morning after I got up and moving, I reached in the freezer to get some ice. The frost was bad. I could barely dislodge the ice cube trays. So I decided that would be my chore for the day. It is one of my most dreaded tasks, but I boiled a pan of water, let it sit inside and the large chunks of ice dislodged fairly easily. Since getting my new plug in cooler last year, I don’t use my real freezer for food. I just use it to make ice, and with so much rain this summer, and 3 solid days this week, I guess the humidity all turned to frost in my tiny little freezer.
It’s a job I always put off, but one that feels so good once it’s done!
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I arrived at my campground in Buckeye, AZ Friday just after noon. Indeed, I was the only one there. Unbeknownst to me at the time I made the reservation, the temperature was to climb to 102˚. Cosmo and I sat outside most of the afternoon, in the narrow band of shade cast by my van. I sat with the back of my chair up against the side of the van; Cosmo crawled under. There was some air movement, but we both hosed off every hour hoping for some relief from the heat by evaporative cooling. Cosmo has learned that when I say “Cooling Time,” if he comes to the side of the van, I’ll mist him with the outdoor shower. He used to hate baths. Now he can’t wait for that relief from the heat. The view was nice and I felt some sense of being home when I saw the Saguaro cactus again.
When night fell, I thought we’d get some relief. I was wrong. The slight breeze ceased, and even with all doors and windows open, it was brutally hot in the van. It didn’t take long for large moths to come in to check out my laptop screen, and the doors had to be closed. I was literally dripping with sweat, and I washed Cosmo with a wet washcloth about every half hour to try to cool him off. He was panting so heavily I was scared for his health. We both got in bed on top of the sheet. I laid there hoping for even a slight breeze through the window above my head. None came. I turned on the ceiling vent, hoping that pulling air out the roof would bring in some through the windows. If it did, it was not noticeable. At midnight I got up and it was still 90˚ outside. Inside it was much warmer. I finally fell asleep but got up often to check on Cosmo who panted through most of the night.
Saturday morning, I awoke at 6:30. It was already 77˚, but rain was in the forecast, possibly bringing some relief. We had coffee outside because at least there was some airflow out there. The forecast is for it to cool off significantly this coming week. I’m ready.
Lessons From The Road: I’m always moved by small acts of kindness. In our current world, sometimes those acts feel few and far between. Patsy offering to top off my freshwater tank and visiting several days to check on me and shoot the breeze made my stay in Cordes Lakes nicer than usual.
{A biker stopped to visit me one afternoon. He was staying up on the ridge across from me. I told him about the rancher up the hill offering to top off my water and he referred to her not as “Patsy” but as “Miss Cordes.” When I went to get water, I saw a sign that said “Cordes Ranch.” My tiny brain finally made the connection. Patsy said she was born there. Her grandfather was the original owner, and her grandkids will inherit it when she’s gone. It never occurred to me that the whole town was probably named for her grandfather who was one of the first residents in the area.}
I’ve known Patsy for several years now. I don’t keep in touch with her when I’m traveling, but every spring and every fall, she stops in at my camping spot and checks on me. She has made comments about “people like us” and I’m flattered that she includes me as a member of her tribe even though I don’t know exactly which tribe that is.
Late Friday afternoon after I got settled in the campground in Buckeye, a man pulled in at an adjacent site. He had a cool setup: It was a tent that unfolded on the top of his truck. There was a steep ladder extending to the entrance and he had a dog, so I had to go over and ask if his dog could get up there. He said, “Only if I lift him.” We chatted a bit. I remembered my first year on the road, when I met fellow nomads in Quartzsite for the first time, joined others for a campfire, and stayed for 10 days in one spot. I’m reminded of the meaningful connection to like-minded people, even if it is short-lived or ephemeral. It’s still a connection, and I have learned to cherish those connections on the road.
And finally, my happy song of the week:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfUEstWJUkA
That’s all I’ve got.
See you down the road,