“I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and roundI really love to watch them rollNo longer riding on the merry-go-roundI just had to let it go.”
– John Lennon
What a wonderful, lazy week it has been. For whatever reason, I’ve felt no compulsion to rush anything. I’ve actually had no thoughts that there is anything I need to do, nothing to accomplish. I’ve managed to sleep in most mornings, sometimes until almost 7:00. I get up, get my coffee, and get back in bed, Cosmo across my lap. I read headlines (when I can stand it) and check e-mail and sometimes listen to a podcast. I watch the sun rise even though it rises behind my head when I sit up in bed. I’ve exercised outside the van every morning, feeling good about doing my old workout routine, even if I don’t do it as aggressively as I used to do it. I come in and have a protein shake and return e-mails. I listen to music and because I’m out in the middle of nowhere, I can sing along at the top of my lungs. (I swear I caught Cosmo covering his ears with his paws one morning.) We play ball, go for walks, and sometimes take naps. We watch mindless YouTube videos, and a couple times I’ve watched silly “coming of age” gay films on either YouTube or Tubi. Some have been in Spanish, with subtitles turned on, which is a good way for me to start my refresher course in case I ever need to move to Mexico.
The site I’m staying in is nice. It’s down in a gully with the main dirt road above me, so it feels very private, even when cars drive by.
By Wednesday my gut was telling me I would be running out of fresh water, probably over the weekend. (My water gauge has never worked since I bought the van and always reads “empty.”) I might have made it until Monday, but since I hate going into town on a weekend, I decided I should get water before then. So on Thursday morning I headed into the metropolis of Cordes Lakes and went to a tiny RV park where I filled my propane (was down to half a tank) and got water. By the amount I took on, I knew I really had been close to empty. When paying for the propane, I noticed that I could get a hot shower for $10, so since they allowed me to fill my fresh water for free, I splurged. Afterwards, I stopped at the adjacent Pilot, got gas, and went into Subway and treated myself to a veggie and cheese sub. I stopped in the dollar store and got some snacks and headed back to Bloody Basin Road. No one had taken my spot, so I pulled back in, set out my table, chair, and solar panels and ate my sub. It was barely noon and I’d done every chore that needed doing for the week. Van life feels pretty good today!
Lessons From The Road: April 19 is Bicycle Day. (https://bit.ly/4cO8NPM) So last Saturday I had to perform my yearly ritual and take a small dose. No, trees were not talking to me, although I’m pretty sure the Milky Way may have called out to me right before bedtime. But, as always, it reminded me of the reason I started this journey in the first place. When I was in Peru and drank “the juice” as my shaman called it, i I somehow had a mind-blowing awareness of “Mother Earth and Father Sky” and I knew life would never be the same for me again. So this week I’m once again feeling renewed (perfect for the week after Easter, right?) and have begun again, or maybe doubled down on my previous commitment to live simply, be kind and be connected. I am in a beautiful spot, the weather has been nearly perfect (mid-70 temperatures and sunny every day), and I’m fully stocked up without a care in the world.
Some days my face hurts from smiling so much. And then I came across this young man’s videos.
How I Live In My Car Without ANYONE Knowing (Denver, CO Edition)
He is young, probably fairly naïve about many things, but I think his innocence is what I found so inspiring. He seems to be having the time of his life, living in a Chevy Suburban with extremely limited possessions. I don’t think I could ever downsize quite that much, but he certainly has inspired me to take a good look around the van, see what I actually use and what I can live without and get rid of some of my clutter. Perfect timing. Twice each year I visit my friends Barbara and Lark and while in their driveway, take the opportunity to go through all my “stuff” and get rid of anything I’ve not used since the last time I was in their driveway. I tend to collect things that I think I just can’t live without, and then after 6 months, realize I never use those things and donate them to Goodwill, or leave them on a “Free Table” at some campground I’m at. Sometimes I love the new things, and realize they replace old things, so I take this opportunity to get rid of the old things. I’ve got just under a week before arriving at the B&L Driveway for Wayward Boys, so all my decluttering is only mental for now, but that’s a good start.
I had another epiphany this week: When I arrived at my favorite spot off Bloody Basin Road, there was a large, Class A RV parked at the near end, close to the ridge. I pulled in at the far end of the site (easily big enough for 3 rigs, especially if they all knew each other) and waited for whoever was in the rig to come out so I could check to be sure they were OK with me sharing the large site. The fact that I was about to do what I hate others for doing was not lost on me. I could have pulled out, turned around and gone back down the road and stayed at a far less desirable spot, but rationalized that I had moved to the far end of this site which had 3 campfire rings, that the person(s) in the Class A either was not home, or was not interested enough in me to get out and speak, and I was fully ready to pack up and leave if at any time the person indicated that he/she/they were uncomfortable with my being there. They never exited their rig the entire time I was there. I still don’t know whether it is a man, woman or couple staying there, but they close their front curtain at sunset and open it up when they awake in the morning. I can see the blue TV light through a crack in the curtains at night, so I know someone is alive in there. Cosmo and I use the back half of the site, never intruding on their space up front, so I am assuming everything is copasetic. Since I never see them, they are no more of a distraction to me than a cactus or a large rock, so I guess everything is good. My lesson is that this time *I* am the intruder. I’m being very respectful, and I doubt that I’m even really noticed. I’m hoping that it will make me be a little more tolerant the next time someone pulls into a spot that I claimed for my own, even though there is plenty of room for another.