“Makes more noise a tree that falls, than an entire forest that grows. “ ~Lao Tse
I have had a very lazy week. Early on, it was quite windy, and Cosmo and I spent much time inside to avoid the blowing dust. From the many windows in my van, I could see dust devils—mini dust tornados passing through the clearing that has been my home all week. I tied everything down outside to keep it from being taken by those mini dust tornados, and I sat inside, drinking coffee, eating snacks and binge-watching Netflix. We took naps. When the wind died down, I opened the back door, and we stared out at the forest for long periods of time.
It felt like being on vacation. After a week here, I still had plenty of food, water and propane. The sun beamed down on us every day, so we had lots of electricity. I felt such contentment. Every once in a while, I’d feel slightly antsy, like I should be doing something or like I should try to figure out what needed to be done. I made myself sit still until that feeling passed. Nothing needed to be done, and I could easily convince myself that I was doing something- I was enjoying perfect weather and the view of the forest surrounding me and the company of my dog lying across my lap and snoring lightly. If it never got any better, I’d be OK with that.
After 10 days without moving, my trash was starting to pile up. I have to keep it inside the van (tied up tightly in drawstring bags) because outside it might attract unwanted critters, and I’ve seen trash strewn all over campsites where inconsiderate campers let those critters scatter inedible trash across the forest or desert floor. There was a paid campsite just 2 miles down the road and they have dumpsters accessible to anyone driving through. I decided to take an excursion down the road under the pretense of dumping trash. The real reason was that on several of my bike rides, I’d discovered some very nice campsites if I headed in either direction just a few football fields away. I think for nomadic types, the grass is always greener (even if there is no grass) just a few yards away at the next campsite.* Since I was going to have to pack up my cacti, my solar panels, table and chair and then mount my bike on the rack and get it secured properly, it seemed as good a time as any to check out other available sites when I returned from my trash run.
I dumped trash and then wondered about how much water I had left. (My freshwater gauge has never worked). I decided that while I was out, I may as well drive down the road 8 miles and top off my water tank at an RV resort that also has a small general store. I got my water and then went in to get some supplies. The options were few and very expensive, but I got bread, crackers and some other snacks. They had no milk or half and half. No eggs. Lots of bait and tackle, but not many options for food unless you were a fish about to be caught. With bread and crackers, I could make it through another week without driving into Flag to get real groceries. I have cupboards full of cashew butter and jelly, and packaged foods like Mac and Cheese, Ramen, and pasta and canned chili.
When I came back, I moved one spot farther down the road. It was smaller which I wanted. The weekenders would be coming soon, and having a huge spot that could hold 3 or 4 rigs opened me up to having to share my spot with a group of strangers. I admit it. I’m territorial. I am happy to share my space with people I know, or even those I’ve met along the way. I wouldn’t be happy if a group of off-roaders, or woo girls decided to set up camp in my spot. So the smaller spot made it possible to park so that my solar panels are in full sun, and I could set up my table and chair and Cosmo’s blanket under a shade tree. By spreading out, it makes my spot look quite “taken.” And behind us is a large clearing where Cosmo and I can play ball.
Thursday and Friday brought brief thunderstorms in the afternoon. Besides thunder and lightning, there was hail and huge raindrops. The storms lasted only about 5 minutes, but they were perfect for wetting down the dust and either the large drops or the hail seemed to pack the loose dust into solid clay. Walking in the evening after the first storm was so much nicer than all the other times outside where we stirred up dust and brought much of it into the van when we returned. It will eventually go back to dust, but not until many vehicles have driven on it or lots of people have walked on it.
Friday afternoon the weekenders started arriving. I am the opposite of most of the country who can’t wait for the weekend to arrive; I can’t wait for it to be over so all the “visitors” go home. There are easily double, if not triple the number of rigs on Friday and Saturday as there are on a typical Wednesday. About 100 yards down the dirt road a group settled in last night. I can barely see them through the trees, but they seem to be young (well, younger than I am). They sat out and talked and played music at night, but not too loud and they went to bed at a decent hour. Shortly after I got in bed and was just drifting off, a group of 4-wheelers drove by, with their ridiculously bright light bars shining through my windows. I guess that’s a thing to drive around in the dark on bad roads. Often they have techno music blaring through loudspeakers. This group was much more considerate. No music, just loud voices as they shouted back and forth to each other. They only drove past once. Often they ride up and down the road for hours and one time last year in this same spot, they decided that they should drive through my site and circle my van. I can think of no reason for this other than they were just assholes.
I was pleasantly surprised that on Saturday morning, everyone slept in, and I’d just see an occasional dog walker pass by. It was overcast, cool and I slept late myself, and stayed in bed long enough to enjoy a second cup of coffee. When we went out for our morning walk, the forest seemed particularly beautiful.
*I’ve talked to several friends, and they seem to be confused by my use of the term “campsite” or “my spot.” On BLM land or in National Forests or the desert, or any place that allows “dispersed camping” (places to spread out but which offer no water, trash service or electricity), there are usually “spots” where others have camped before. A “spot” is often marked by a campfire ring. People who have reserved spaces at campgrounds have a very different idea of what the word “campsite” means. Campgrounds usually offer numbered spots, often paved, where you can back in. They have a picnic table adjacent and often a firepit. Some have water and electric and even sewer connections. On BLM and other dispersed camping sites, there are areas where the grass is matted down from many vehicles driving over it, or where the grass is completely gone and there is a cleared area. Occasionally there is a fire ring that a previous camper left. Sometimes there is just a large area of dirt. Hardly any have potable water nearby. Few have dumpsters at the entrance near the main road. Almost all are “Pack it in, pack it out.” Leave no trace. To get to the spot/campsite/areas where I stay in Marshall Lake or Ashurst Lake I leave Lake Mary Road (two lane road, newly paved last summer and speed limit of 50 m.p.h.) and get off on either Ashurst Lake Road or Marshall Lake Road. Those roads are gravel, a bit wash boarded, and if you drive over 10 m.p.h. you’ll knock your fillings loose. I turn off either of those roads onto a very primitive road, not much more than a path made by other vehicles. From there, I turn onto what I can only describe as a “driveway.” These small roads are always rocky, have big potholes, and some are impassible unless you have high clearance and 4WD. The “speed limit” on most of these is 3 to 5 m.p.h. if you want to keep your axles and shocks intact. Some are short and lead to a single clearing. Others are longer and may have several clearings off either side. The farther back you go, the more privacy you can have, but the chances of getting stuck in sand or mud or a ditch increases. These clearings are what I refer to as a campsite.
Lessons From The Road: Something is eating me. No. I mean literally. I figured out that it is chiggers. I had a problem with them last year and am doing my best to avoid them this summer without much success. For those of you who don’t know, (I had to look it up) chiggers are the larvae of some sort of mite (in the arachnid family). The larvae reside on tall grass, and when someone brushes against the grass, the larvae attach to clothing or skin. They put out little “straws” and inject some sort of digestive juice under your skin, dissolving cells. Then they suck that nutrient-rich, semi-digested “skin juice” back up through the straw. The result is a huge welt that burns and itches like crazy. It is like a mosquito bite on steroids. You can’t feel the insertion, or even your cells being sucked out, and it takes about 3 to 4 hours to know you’ve been bitten (if indeed that is the correct term). My legs are covered with itchy bumps, and I’ve got a few on my belly. I try my best to stay out of the tall grass, but apparently, I’m not trying hard enough. I’ll do better.
I’m planning for the upcoming holiday weekend. I’ll go to Walmart next weekend and stock up again on real food before the 4th, and top off my tanks and come back to Ashurst Lake for the Holiday. Marshall Lake will most likely be more crowded although the woman at the RV store yesterday said crowds are down this year due to the heat, the dried-up lakes (no good fishing) and the stage 2 fire ban (No fires, no charcoal or wood grills, even in your driveway in the city of Flagstaff). After the holiday visitors leave, I may give Marshall Lake another shot, or head north of Flag to a different part of the forest. Or I just may spend most of the summer here in Ashurst Lake. It’s farther from groceries, but it is a beautiful part of the forest despite the carnivorous creatures craving my “skin juice.”