Last Sunday, I made the decision to leave Ehrenberg sooner rather than later. The extended forecast showed the temperatures for the following weekend to be in the triple digits. It was quite strange that it was chilly and very windy outside, so much so, that we stayed in all day. And yet, the following week was going to be unbearably hot, and even in Tonopah where the hot springs are, it was predicted to be in the upper 90’s. Perhaps I had already missed my window of opportunity to go to the mineral baths before it gets too hot.
Monday it was so windy that I got several weather alerts warning of high winds and dangerous dust storms. I texted Bonnie and told her I was leaving for good on Tuesday morning.
I packed up and drove down “the road” (it is a “road” to those of us who lived there during the winter months; I’m not sure those of you reading this would be so generous with that description) to say good-bye to Bonnie. Cosmo was going crazy. In the past weeks, we would go down whenever the weather permitted and visited Bonnie in the mornings, and she would bring out a big biscuit for him. He has gotten so used to that treat that he starts crying when we approach her van, whether we are walking or driving. We said our good-byes and took our farewell selfie.
Even though I’d come and gone throughout the winter, my home base was Ehrenberg. It felt like my home in many ways because Bonnie was there. We visited often, and sat outside whenever weather permitted, and solved the world’s problems. (Fortunately, neither one of us live in that world whose problems quite often feel unsolvable.) It was sad to say good-bye to her for the summer. I will certainly miss her presence.
I went into Blythe and got some groceries to help me get through the next week at the mineral baths, and then drove to Quartzsite for a final time until next fall. I parked where I had stayed a couple weeks ago, in the Magic Circle. It had cleared out considerably since I left, so I parked in a large spot with nobody close by. I’d hoped to be outside, but again, the winds picked up and Cosmo and I spent most of the afternoon in the van. The next morning promised a warm day, but we packed up and got on the road toward Phoenix.
After getting propane and water and emptying our trash, we made it to Tonopah and the El Dorado Hot Springs before noon. It was much more crowded than it had been last year when we were there, but the owner had saved us a spot meeting all our needs. We parked near a tree and were surrounded on two sides by bamboo, giving us morning sun (for our solar needs) and afternoon shade (so we didn’t fry as the temps rose later in the week). It was a nice spot, close to the hot tubs and showers. I got set up and immediately went to take a long, hot shower. Cosmo and I took a walk through tunnels of bamboo and overgrown vines, and into a meadow and later I went for a soak in the mineral baths. The water runs in constantly from underground hot springs, and overflows out at the opposite end, providing a seemingly endless supply of hot water. I had a nice conversation with a man from Minnesota before returning to make dinner. I had another soak before bedtime, and when I left the tub area the compound was dark, lit only by strings of LED lights showing the way to the tubs. When we went to bed, the full moon illuminated the grounds quite nicely.
The Hot Springs is a study in contrasts. It has a tropical feel, with palm trees and peafowl making it seem exotic. One white peahen left a gift for me outside my van door. There are a wide variety of animals, mostly, but not limited to exotic birds. I was on the phone with my friend Richard and he said “Where ARE you?” and then mentioned all the clatter of birds in the background. The peacocks scream and it sounds like old women calling for help. One (I swear) calls out “Hooty Hoo.” There are mourning doves, guinea fowl, crows, roosters (Lazy roosters…I was up before they crowed every morning), a variety of songbirds in the trees, and at least one large pig. Tall bamboo separates many of the camping spaces from one another. There are also a variety of cacti in bloom. The opposite side is that it also has a Gilligan’s Island feel, partly due to the bamboo, but mostly due to the makeshift PVC waterworks (that reminds me of bamboo plumbing on the Gilligan’s Island series), and bamboo fences separating different areas. The structures are in need of some TLC. Last year I found them charmingly rustic; this year they are clearly just run-down.
I’m living with a totally different kind of people than I’ve spent the winter with. I find them fascinating, but at least a little bit strange. I suspect being so close to Phoenix, a larger city, has something to do with it. Also, being in a “resort” (of sorts) plays a role. The first night I was here, a woman in the hot tub told a long, boring story about whale watching. I laid back and looked at the stars and tried to tune her out. When I sat up again, I realized that the man across from her seemed mesmerized by her story, until my eyes adjusted to the dark and I saw his eyes were on her large, bobbing breasts. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, and he didn’t care. The following night, I was in a different hot tub and heard a familiar voice telling the exact same whale story, verbatim, to another man. She clearly has practiced this song and dance. I watched for a bit, as some got up and left and others leaned back and closed their eyes, apparently trying to tune her out. But one man, who sounded quite young decided to play “Can you top this” with her, and kept trying to one-up her with tales of backpacking on the Appalachian Trail, and his many adventures in the wilderness. He had a distinct speech pattern, and I finally pinned it down to the San Francisco Bay Area. He said “So, yeah” at least once in every sentence, and had a severe “Up Talk,” speaking each sentence as if it were a question. In response to every sentence the woman spoke, he nodded in agreement and said “100%.” There were overtones of “Valley Girl” in his voice thrown in for good measure and I decided he was a gay man from SF. Sure enough, a few minutes later he told the Whale Woman that he was a bartender in SF. I grinned to myself, thinking that this could be a fun game: to guess where people were from by their accents and speech patterns.
The next day, I talked to a man with a camper shell on his truck. He had a heavy Bronx accent, so that was pretty easy to guess. I looked at his plates, and sure enough—New York. Another man in the hot tub was a bit loud and had such hard vowels, I guessed the mid-west, maybe Wisconsin or Michigan. He reminded me of the characters in the film Fargo. It didn’t take long for him to disclose he was from MinnesOta.
But there was something else going on at the Hot Springs that I couldn’t quite put my finger on until mid-week: Many people here had money. In their conversations, they spoke of fine restaurants, brand name shoes, and single malt Scotch. Many had expensive-looking clothing, and some wore too much silver and turquoise (I guessed, they were from New Mexico, probably Santa Fe, although I never got confirmation of that.) All were pleasant, and most said “hello” or “Goodbye” as they came or went. But these were not the people I lived with all winter. No, these were tourists; one was heading to Esalen Spa for a massage when he left here, and another going skiing at a resort whose name I didn’t recognize.
When I was at SkooliePalooza, people were from all over the U.S., and yet, I would not classify them as tourists. They were not just visiting, but rather, they lived wherever they happened to park. I can’t put my finger on it, but there is a subtle distinction that makes a world of difference. There are several enormous, expensive Class A rigs. They park all wonky, with a sense of entitlement. Since they are big, the owners seem to think “I’ll park where I want, because it’s too hard to maneuver this rig into a regular spot.” They remind me of the people who now go to Burning Man. In the beginning, it was an event for the hard-core, hippy, nomadic crowd. It was free and an extremely difficult environment. Now it costs $800 for a ticket and is attended by the well-to-do who want to scratch one more thing off their bucket list. I overheard one woman in the hot spring say “When we were boondocking in Lake Havasu…” It was a tell: she was not a nomad or a van-lifer. We don’t use the term boondocking in that way. Boondocking, for those of you who don’t know, is staying for free in your RV, usually a van or camper shell on your truck, out in the boondocks. Those of us who live on the road just take it for granted that we are going to be boondocking almost all of the time. We would say “When I stayed in Havasu…” Conversely OUR tell would be to say “When I paid to stay at…” Anyway, after a long, peaceful winter of staying with other nomadic types, spending the week with rich tourists was an adjustment.
Lessons From The Road: This week I’ve been constantly reminded of the great divide in the U.S. Although I try to avoid “the news” as much as possible, so much is happening this week that it is difficult to tune it out completely. The extreme political corruption in the U.S. is not only staggering, but quite depressing to me. It also seems tied in not only with politics, but also with class. The wealthy play by a very different set of rules than the poor do. That has been apparent in headline news, but also in my little microcosm of this resort. The poor people in tents and camper trucks and old vans tend to stay in their tiny spots on the perimeter and not impose on nearby neighbors, while the wealthier folks in huge rigs just pull up adjacent to the bathrooms and showers so they can plug into electricity in order to watch TV and run their AC. They mostly ignore posted rules in the hot tub areas, like “No Cell Phones or Cameras, No Glass, No Alcoholic Beverages.” One of the couples in a humongous 5th wheel from Texas (Don’t get me started on Texas) came into the hot tub area, carrying red wine in stemmed glasses, got in adjacent clawfoot tubs, and pulled out their phones to take selfies with no regard to the other naked guests who were in the background. Then after making a big deal out of toasting and clinking glasses, the woman got on the phone and talked loudly to someone about her trip through Arizona.
Another woman who looked much like Gwyneth Paltrow (Bless her goopy heart) came in carrying a ball jar filled with a thick, green beverage. She never drank it. It was apparently just an fashion statement. She rearranged small tables and chairs, moving them close to her tub so she could place her beach bag full of her other accoutrements within reach. Then she left for over half an hour, having “reserved” her tub for later use. Other people came in, started to get into that tub, but saw the woman’s belongings spread out all around, and either found another spot or left.
Those of you who know me know I am somewhat of a cross between communist and anarchist. I have little use for meaningless rules, but I abide by them either out of fear of punishment or because breaking them would be inconsiderate of others. This felt different. It felt like “Don’t be silly. The rules don’t apply to me!”
My goal for this year is to be kind. No matter how different other people seem to me, no matter how rude or inconsiderate they appear to be, I have promised to be kind, or at the very least, just turn and walk away. I’ve managed to do that, but not without judgement. And I’ve never been able to keep a poker face. I imagine that when I turn to walk away from people who I consider to be jerks, it is pretty easy to read the disapproval in my smile. I suppose that’s the next piece for me to work on. Be kind and try not to judge others who are not like you wish them to be.