“I don’t know what the point is to life, but in the early quiet and softness of this morning, I am at peace with not knowing.
~ The Story People
The early part of the week was uneventful. It got hot by mid-morning, so Cosmo and I got in our daily walk early each day.
By afternoon it was extremely hot and windy and most afternoons and evenings it rained, at least a little.
I made a dental appointment for Thursday in Winslow and on Wednesday morning I packed up and decided to go camping in Winslow for a couple of nights. To the casual observer it probably looked like I just moved down the road 20 miles and parked, but I assure you, I was camping in McHood State Park on Clearwater Creek.
It’s been so long since I got to stay right on the water. Cosmo and I got in up to our knees (and in Cosmo’s case, elbows too) several times. There is only one campsite that is actually on the creek and I got it. I could walk out my front door, down a short path and get in the water.
It was an incredible find to get the only spot on the water, AND not have anyone within sight. But that was short-lived.
It seems that I arrived just in time to get the best spot, but in the few hours after I got set up, at least 20 school buses pulled in and dumped out hundreds of Native kids. They walked up the hill and set up tents. (Not camping tents but exhibit tents.) The buses took up 8 of the most coveted camping sites. By 3:00 p.m., dozens of cars came in and filled up every camping spot, parking every which way, taking every possible space, and some not so possible spaces. Hundreds of people wandered the campground and went up on the hill.
People walked through my campsite, sat down at my picnic table, even moved my solar panels out of their way. Not so long ago (perhaps last week) this audacity would have set my hair on fire. But it was *I* who went into the empire; they did not come to me. A friend pointed out when I had complained last time I went camping, that this is how it will always be. “What do you expect will happen when you move into a campsite with carpet walkers?”
I asked someone walking by what was going on. It was a track meet, so I knew it would be short-lived. It was. By sunset, I was one of two campers in the whole park, and I could not even see the other camper from my idyllic spot on the water.
I got up early on Thursday and took my sweet time having coffee in bed, enjoying a long walk around the water (it’s technically a creek, but widens at the campground, so it looks a lot more like a lake), and having a second cup of coffee before packing up. I drove to Winslow Dental and arrived early. They weren’t busy and got me right in. I had a rough spot on a back filling that I wanted checked out. It is one of the few silver (mercury?) fillings I have left from the olden days, and I was sure they were going to tell me the tooth couldn’t be saved and I’d need a crown–perhaps a root canal. The dental assistant took X-rays and cleaned my teeth while we waited for the dentist to be free. He came and looked at the X-rays and said the filling was intact and the tooth was good. He couldn’t see anything wrong. I said it had a rough spot, and he looked again and saw nothing. I told him to feel it and he rubbed his gloved finger across the surface. He had that “aha moment” and sent me down the hall where another technician lightly smoothed it out with the dentist’s equivalent of a Dremel. Easy-peasy and painless. I was in and out within an hour and it only cost me $60. I was quite happy. I drove a few miles to the other side of Winslow and found another (paid) campsite in Homolovi State Park. They had potable water and electric hookups (I got all my batteries fully charged—they had not been up to 100% for over a week due to the monsoons and cloudy days), topped off my water tank, and took two (count ‘em) showers in their newly remodeled shower rooms. The hot water seemed endless, and I took full advantage of it, letting the steamy water pour over me as I shampooed and conditioned my hair and beard and scrubbed my tired feet with a scrub brush. Heaven.
Cosmo and I sat outside until the wind became too unbearable, then we came inside and took a nap. I watched YouTube videos and Netflix until bedtime and since I was plugged into shore power, I ran my ceiling fan with wild abandon.
Friday morning, we took our time preparing to move back to Two Guns. I had a second cup of coffee and made breakfast. We went for a short walk. I filled my freshwater tank, dumped trash and then got on the road. It was bittersweet leaving Winslow for the final time this season. For the past couple years, I’d had breakfast with a friend at La Posada—a beautifully restored historic property, with peaceful gardens, and unique artwork right off the railroad tracks near “The Corner” in Winslow. I had hoped to do it again this year, and was willing to go eat alone, but when I was ready to leave on Friday morning, it was already hot. I didn’t want to leave Cosmo in the van in the heat, and having paid for an eye doctor appointment, new glasses, sunglasses and a dental appointment, I was feeling a bit over budget for the month. I guess I’ll have to wait for next year to do breakfast there again.
Coming into Two Guns for the last time of the season was beautiful. I stopped to take a picture of “my driveway” which leads to my favorite spot above the ghost town on the rim of a canyon.
I was glad to be “back home” and as much as I enjoyed both my camping spots in Winslow, I was glad to be away from all the city folk. I got set-up and we went for a walk to the ridge overlooking what remains of the tower.
Lessons From The Road: I’ve been aware this week of terminology. When my friend used the term “Carpet Walkers” to describe those who live in sticks and bricks homes, I laughed so hard I spit out my coffee. What a great term. I suppose it is mildly derogatory, the implication being they are somehow inferior to us. Another friend just says, “city folk.” I use the term “The Empire” to refer to anything on the beaten path, especially in a town or city. Matt calls it “The Matrix.” When I was in Flagstaff, where it is often a bit more populated in the forest, someone asked me if I was a “full-timer.” That’s a term that carries a bit of prestige. No fooling around. I’m not here for my vacation. And I’m definitely not a “weekend warrior.” I LIVE HERE. Others will ask how long I’ve been a nomad, or sometimes they’ll see my rig and say “Oh. You’re a van lifer.” I don’t know what “carpet walkers” call us. I know in the forests and deserts and on BLM land there can be quite an overlap of carpet walkers, weekend warriors, nomads, van-lifers, and just plain homeless folks. I think we all do pretty well at getting along for the most part, but I suspect the carpet walkers look down (at least a little) on those of us who are nomads, without realizing we often are feeling a bit sorry for them due to their social status and lack of connection to the real world. 😊
And finally…My happy song of the week:
Nomadic Orchestra – Hitman (Official Video)
See you down the road,