“I pulled into the Cactus Tree Motel
To shower off the dust
And I slept on strange pillows of my wanderlust
I dreamed of 747s
Over geometric farms
Dreams Amelia, dreams and false alarms.”
-Joni Mitchell
Saturday night I decided I’d move back to the forest in Flagstaff on Sunday morning. I’m at one of the times of the year that I “count backwards” from where I want to end up at a certain point and then rough out a tentative route, with several options of places to stay on the way. I plan on being in Barbara and Lark’s driveway on September 1, and I want to spend a couple nights at a campground in Camp Verde that I enjoyed last year, so that put me in Flagstaff on Sunday and Monday.
I was a bit nostalgic on Saturday night in Two Guns. I had really enjoyed my stay there and am nearly certain I’ll spend lots more time there next summer. Before going to bed, I happened to look out the window and could see the Milky Way quite clearly. I got my camera and tripod and headed outside for one final shot before leaving. When I got set up, I could see lightning in the distance. I hoped it would add to the photo. It did.
Sunday morning, I took my time, had a second cup of coffee in bed, and answered e-mails before packing up. I made the 35-mile drive to Flagstaff in winds a lot more gusty than I like, but I just drove slowly. Traffic was light and I arrived at Flagstaff Walmart without any trouble. I picked up a few things and then stopped for gas. A woman came out of the mini-mart and smiled and waved. She was gassing up her Class C camper at the pump next to mine. She recognized me right away as part of her tribe, and we chatted a bit as we both pumped gas. She too was heading to Marshall Lake, and we exchanged notes on which part we liked best. Before she left, she got in her rig and came out with some beautiful smudge sticks. She said she had found a patch of sage and picked some when she was in New Mexico and had made these smudge sticks adding beads and tiny seashells at one end. She was selling them and said she could use the extra cash to buy gas. I gladly bought one and she thanked me profusely and headed back inside to pay for an additional $10 of gas.
I headed to Marshall Lake. It hadn’t rained there in a couple of days, but the ground was still very muddy and slippery in some spots. Most sites were occupied which was unusual for a Sunday afternoon. Perhaps more people came out for the week before the holiday? I found a spot that was relatively dry and solid and settled in. I was closer to other campers than I like, but far enough away that I didn’t think it would be an issue. I could have continued back farther into the forest, but knowing I was only staying two nights, I didn’t feel like making the effort. I heated up a Marie Calendar’s “Chik’n Pot Pie.” I’ve had them before, and although I think they are somewhat above my budget, I also think they are worth the cost. This one did not disappoint. The temperature was about 15⁰ cooler than Two Guns, and it felt good to be in the forest, in a patch of sun and still staying quite cool. (75⁰)
As I got ready for bed Sunday night, there was an altercation at a nearby camper’s spot. I couldn’t tell what happened, but the camper had been playing loud, obnoxious music all night. I thought perhaps someone got fed up and confronted him. After the shouting and threatening, the music was turned off and it became quiet. In the morning, I realized that there were actually two people staying in the tent where the altercation was. I’d seen a car come and go several times during the day. When they left, they locked their 3 dogs in the tent. In the morning, I heard fighting again, and wondered if the altercation was just between the two camping together rather than someone nearby being upset with the music.
The man closest to me packed up in the morning. I am guessing he is homeless, because he had a subcompact car, and shoved coolers, blankets, tent, boxes, a small solar panel, and a solar charger in the back. What couldn’t fit, he tied to the roof. When he pulled out with stuff strapped to his old vehicle, I was reminded of the Beverly Hillbillies. He was just missing Granny’s rocking chair on the top.
Monday was mostly quiet until the afternoon. A man in a flatbed pick-up truck came and pulled in close to me. He sat in the cab for about an hour, then got out and pulled a mattress from the cab to the flatbed. He napped for an hour until he was joined by another truck with three other people. They had a tailgate party, and all stood around outside drinking and carrying on.
Monday night, the same couple played blaring music into the evening before ending it with yet another knock-down, dragged-out fight, with lots of cursing and threats toward each other. I couldn’t have been happier to pull out of Marshall Lake on Tuesday morning and head to Krazy K RV park.
Krazy K is mostly full-time RV people, nearly all with big pull behind trailers or 5th wheels. It is a 55+ community, so it’s pretty sedate. They have decommissioned the spot I occupied last year, which they called “remote parking.” It was 10 feet from the pool gate and at half price, it was a godsend. They put me in the last row of (I guess) “Non-remote parking” and it was still only a short walk to the pool, hot tub, gym and showers. It was between two big rigs, but there were cars (I assume belonging to the people in the big rigs) as a buffer between me and them. It was not an issue to be so close as they never came out of their trailers while I was there.
The heat, however, was an issue. It was 99⁰ when I arrived. I plugged into their electricity immediately and turned on my AC. The blast of cold air felt so good, but it was short-lived. When you are in a tiny metal box, in full sun in 99⁰ heat, running air conditioning does very little. My AC unit is only a couple years old and has been used a handful of times. It is above my bed in a compartment, inside that metal box which is my van. As the temperature rises, the box fills with hot air and the AC just can’t keep up. By early afternoon it was blowing out heat instead of cool,and I had to open the doors and windows and turn on the fan part of the AC and the ceiling exhaust fan. That kept air circulating, but it was still pretty unpleasant. I went to the pool and cooled down. Poor Cosmo didn’t stop panting, so I took him outside and hosed him down with cold water. He was none too happy, but he came inside, spread out on the floor and finally fell asleep. At sunset, I closed up again and ran the AC. It made it much better for sleeping as the outside temperature was still close to 80⁰.
I spent most my time at the RV park downsizing in my head (when I wasn’t in the pool). I’ve brought with me from Delaware things I thought I may need eventually or might use at some point. Each year when I stay in Barbara and Lark’s driveway, I get rid of some things that I haven’t used in the past year. This year I will be brutal. I carry around a winter coat, thinking I might get stuck in someplace cold. That’s highly unlikely. Much more likely that they’ll find my fried, shriveled up body someday than it is they’ll ever find me frozen to death. I have blankets, and too many winter clothes, especially considering that last winter I spent several months in a place where clothing was optional. I have long pants that I haven’t worn since I left Delaware. I have dozens of kitchen utensils I thought I’d use but I tend to use just one knife, fork and spoon over and over. I have a commercial kitchen whisk that takes up way too much space. I have various pots and pans that I’ve never used, and some “dress clothes” that are now covered in dust since the plastic bags they were stored in turned crispy and cracked in my “garage.” (The storage under my rear seat.) They all will be finding a new home at Goodwill next week.
I also realized that I’ve found places for things wherever they will fit. My mini-toaster oven is in the compartment with my underwear and socks. I have no qualms about that, but what is NOT working for me is that some of the things I rarely use are easily accessible and some of the things I use daily are shoved in some remote corner of a cupboard. Some serious organizing will take place when I stop in Prescott Valley.
Lessons From The Road: For the last couple of years, Flagstaff was my “go to” option for the summer. Being over 7,000 feet, it tends to stay a bit cooler than surrounding areas. Last year I left when the rains came, and the mud became too much to deal with. This year I came and went, each time parking in a different area, hoping to avoid some of the bad characters that have started to populate the forest. Ashurst Lake tended to be a bit quieter than Marshall Lake, and although many of the people who camped there tore up the roads and left their sites trashed, there were fewer of them, and they were, for the most part, farther away from me. I stayed in three different sections at Marshall Lake this summer. Although I met a couple of nice people, many of the people who stayed there were quite dreadful. Many were clearly homeless, setting up makeshift tents with tarps and blankets. They often played loud music at night, and from wherever I was in the forest, it was not uncommon to hear fights break out in the evenings. I suspect overuse of alcohol may have played a part in that. I’m glad I came back to Flag for two final nights of the season. After spending time in Two Guns and Winslow, it made me take an objective look at Flagstaff. Marshall Lake, and to some extent Ashurst Lake are physically beautiful. The people who come there? Not so much.
I’ve thought for a long time that “homelessness” is a spectrum rather than a specific condition. I consider myself “voluntarily home free.” At the far opposite end of the spectrum are the people in tent cities. The worst sections of the tent cities are the addicted or mentally ill. They seem to have fallen through the cracks and I don’t see much hope for them to crawl out, even when someone reaches out a helping hand. I read many articles I come across about tent cities in big cities around the country and feel sad when I read that some government agency has decided to clear them out. And yet, I see these beautiful resort areas/camping spots on the lake slowly being taken over by the dregs of society, and don’t see a viable solution for dealing with people who have been given a free place to stay and then trash it before moving on to the next spot. It’s not always just about poverty, or even addiction or mental illness. Often it’s about disrespect. Disrespect for other people, for the earth itself. The longer I am on the road, the more connected I feel to the earth and nature, so sometimes I take it as a personal affront to see people come smash bottles and leave bags of trash behind. It makes me feel sad and helpless to do much about it.
Staying in an RV park (think not quite as “upscale” as a trailer park), I have once again started to think about where I go if I can no longer drive, or if my van gives up the ghost. The few people I met in Camp Verde RV park were sociable. Most keep to themselves, but when I ran into people in the laundry room or when walking Cosmo, they were always friendly and outgoing. Some version of that could be an option for my “Golden years.”