We left Table Mesa and headed north to Arcosanti. I learned about this place in 1972. My friend Chuck, who lived in the same college dorm as I did, a year younger than I, was a library/architecture/ecology buff. He found an article about Arcosanti, which they started to build with volunteers in 1970. He was fascinated by it and said “Wouldn’t it be cool if WE went out there and volunteered? We could live in that community. It would be amazing! I was 19 and he was 18. Pipe dreams are real at that age and we talked about doing that, as well as going to Egypt sometime so we could drop acid at the pyramids. (That should give you some perspective of our ability to deal with reality. But now, in hindsight, I’m so glad Chuck taught me to put reality aside at times. Without that ability, I never would have ended up at Machu Picchu, nor would I have believed that living in a van and traveling around the country would be possible. But I digress…)
Arcosanti was started in 1970. The vision was that it would be an eco-friendly city, housing about 5,000 residents. All spaces would be used full-time—so a bedroom that wasn’t being used during the day would function as an office or an artist’s studio space. When I saw it yesterday, there were lots of pipe dreams and little reality. I believe I have a better chance of going to the pyramids to take LSD than Arcosanti has of reaching 5,000 residents. They currently have 88 people living there. They make the famous Arcosanti Bells that they sell to keep the place running, but it is not running as a functional city, but rather as a tourist spot. People come to hear the dream of Arcosanti—“Hope for All Humankind.” The reality is that 50 years later, not much is going on except making extremely over-priced stuff to sell at the gift shop.
The residents pay rent to live there, and all work for free. From my perspective, it didn’t seem so much like a utopian community as it felt like slavery. The tour guide who led our tour couldn’t answer the most simple questions, like “What year was this section built?” or “Since only one room is solar powered, are they planning on expanding the solar areas now that solar power has come down in price?” She made guesses, but told us we could “ask Leo” when we returned to the main part of the visitor center. (Leo has lived there for 8 years). She arrived for our tour which was scheduled for 11:00 at about 11:15. Beyond the ideals and dreams, there was not much else I was impressed with. Not much has been kept up. Painted plywood was peeling and buckling. Outdoor lighting fixtures had lightbulbs missing. Maybe I expect too much, but I have been dreaming about going to Arcosanti for 50 years, and when I finally got there to fulfill Chuck’s dream (Chuck died of a heart attack a few years ago) I was, to say the least, disappointed. Still, I’m glad I got to see it. It is still a great idea and maybe someday, someone will fulfill the dream.
Afterwards I drove north on Route 17 to Barbara and Lark’s home. I parked easily in their RV pad adjacent to their driveway. It was SO good to see Barbara again. It must have been 25 or 30 years since our last visit. We spent the day catching up, and Barbara and Lark made dinner for me. The following day I took a shower, gave Cosmo a bath, washed clothes, vacuumed my van, washed all my seat cushion covers and generally did routine maintenance that can only be done when staying with a friend. Barbara has a really good handyman who I contacted and he came and took my toilet out. I don’t use it (as I have a composting method) so taking the toilet out of the van freed up about 2 cubic feet of much needed space. I still need to get some shelves in where the toilet was, but I can do that as I travel.
We’ve gone on rides, done some sight-seeing and took Cosmo to the park. It’s been an easy visit, at least for me. When Barbara wants to take a nap in the afternoon, Cosmo and I just “go home” to the van outside the garage door. The weather is warm—mid-60’s to lower 70’s—during the day, and near freezing at night.
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The next 4 days were a blur. We fit so much into a brief visit. Barbara and Lark went to get their hair done on Monday. Barbara went first because she just got a trim. Lark was getting “the works” (Barbara’s term, not mine) so after Barbara was finished, we took off and went food shopping. Barbara and Cosmo waited in the car and I picked up her order as well as shopped for groceries for myself. We went back to the salon and Lark was almost finished, so Barbara and I went next door for Mexican food. Lark joined us when she was done.
We did some thrift stores one day, got take-out pizza one night, cooked ratatouille one night for dinner. Nate, their handyman came over on Sunday and took my toilet out. Lark took me to Walmart, and I found a shelf to put in the bottom where the toilet was, and put the composting toilet and compost on top of it. It all fits very neatly in the space now. We sat in the sunshine in the back yard, took Cosmo on rides and walks, ate ice cream and took naps. It was a full week. I had fun. I think they did too. If not, they were very good at faking it.
I left Prescott Valley on Thursday morning. I had a spot picked out about an hour and a half north, and a back-up spot in case the first one didn’t work out. The first spot looked like it could go either way by the description on iOverlander—a website I use to find free camping. I got there and I could see some vans, and class C’s up on a hill. There were several “roads” (driveways?) near the GPS coordinates, but all had fences and “No Trespassing” signs. I’m not sure how the other rigs got where they were, but I couldn’t get in. So I drove about a mile up the road to my back-up spot. It too was a no-go. It was off Route 66, so driving to it was sort of cool, but it was listed as “The 66 Loop.” It was indeed sort of a loop to the side of Route 66. It was maybe a quarter of a mile from start to finish, was a bad dirt road, and the “campsites” were just spots where the road got a bit wider. There were old mattresses, and hundreds of empty cans of tuna and pineapple. Don’t ask me why. I have no idea. It just felt unsafe to me and the inlet and outlet from the road was quite a ditch. I was afraid if I stayed and had to leave after dark because it just got too scary, I would have trouble getting out in the dark. I tried to talk myself into it but my gut was twitchy and I’ve learned to listen to my gut for safety matters. I pulled down the road on Rt. 66 and stopped in a town called Seligman. It was small. I guess you’d call it a ghost town. I pulled into a parking lot of an abandoned building to look at my maps and apps again. I found some BLM land in Kingman, but it was over an hour away. I couldn’t find anything closer, so decided I had to just bite the bullet and drive. That made the day’s drive twice as long as I’d counted on. When I got there, many of the pull-offs were impassible without a 4WD vehicle. I found a couple that I could manage, but they were occupied. I pulled into a couple thinking I could ask the other camper if they minded sharing. They weren’t huge sites, but they were big enough to be shared without a big bother. Unfortunately, as I drove to position my van as far from the other camper as possible, the ground was not even close to level. I moved to the next. Same deal. I drove back down the road and right at the beginning of the BLM land, close to a Love’s travel stop at the junction of I-40 and 93, there was a gravel lot. It already had 3 rigs in it, but they were spread out. I drove around it a bit, and decided I could park between any two and not be too close. I think the “rules” for parking lots and van parking are more lenient than pulling into a space in the woods or desert that is already occupied. * I pulled in and wasn’t too out of level. I parked as my neighbor came out to adjust his solar panels. I waved and he waved back. We didn’t speak. He didn’t come over and neither did I, so I guessed it was going to be OK.
*It turns out that I was right about the “parking lot rule.” Before the sun set, 3 or 4 more rigs pulled in, and filled the gaps between those of us already parked there. Everyone was quiet and respectful.
I was beat. I drove a lot longer than I’m used to driving and endured a lot of stress when my plan AND my back-up plan failed. But I did get a safe spot for the night. It’s very close to the road but not too noisy. And it’s just for one night and it’s free. I treated myself and cooked some artichoke and parmesan ravioli and made a beautiful salad with mixed greens, sprouts, red bell pepper, onion, and raisins. I topped it off with a drizzle of sesame ginger dressing. I took one bite and let out a sigh of relief. I was home and I was much closer to Las Vegas than I expected to be by the end of the day.
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I woke up a couple of times in the middle of the night. The moon was nearly full and quite bright. So was the “Love’s Truck Stop” sign. I could see both from my bedroom window. Both made me smile. The full moon is always a sight to behold. It casts long shadows out in the desert, and I was sort of in the desert, adjacent to a small town. It was not nearly as idyllic as Red Rock where I lived in a Saguaro Cactus Forest. And yet, it seemed appropriate that I was at the intersection of civilization and mountain ravine. That has become my life. One night I’m in nature’s paradise, miles from other humans; the next night I’m in a Cracker Barrel parking lot. I’m equally at home in either place now. Though I much prefer middle of nowhere, I am always grateful to have a safe, free place to stay, no matter what or where that may be.
This is Kingman, AZ. It is technically BLM land, but it is right at a busy intersection of I-40 and Rt. 93. I was in walking distance of Loves Travel Stop. And yet, beautiful sunset, a nearly-full moon 15 minutes later, and a peaceful night’s sleep.
The next day, I got up early, watched the sun come up and made breakfast. I got an early start and headed to Lake Mead. Since I drove so far the previous day, I was close enough to Las Vegas (I need to be there on Sunday to meet my friend Tom), and a day early. So I decided to take a detour to Lake Mead. The ride was easy except for the last 3 miles. The reviews said “anyone can make it in any vehicle, if you go slow.” That is probably true, but it was a treacherous drive in. The road was severely rutted, wash boarded, and filled with big rocks and potholes. It was hilly, with some steep rises and drops. It was narrow, and was only a single lane in some spots, with hairpin turns. I went very slowly. It took me almost a half hour to drive 3 miles. I could see oncoming cars (I only passed two) from far away and I’d find a wide part of the road and pull over and wait for them to get to me and then pass. It was scary. I made it to the lake, and it was worth the trip.
I tried for nearly an hour to get level. It was not going to happen down by the lake. The slope was so dramatic that at some spots I was off-level by over two feet on one side. I got to a spot where I was only off by 7 inches, but if I moved forward 6 inches, I could be off by 9 or 10 inches. I tried my leveling blocks, but the ground was rocky on top and several of my leveling blocks shattered under the weight of the van on uneven rocky terrain. I was about to give up, when a man in a nearby van came to my rescue. He had found one of the only level spots near the lake, but told me that last week he parked a little ways up the hill in a level spot. He not only showed me the spot but also helped me back in and get level.
It was an easy walk down to the lake from this spot, and Cosmo and I went down several times. It was warm and sunny and I was so glad to be in nature again. It was very quiet at night. I looked out my bedroom window and saw several campfires in the distance but I was tired and we didn’t go down to them. The moon was full and I could easily see the other campers from my van. Cosmo also spotted a coyote as I was dozing off to sleep. Apparently there are quite a few, and some burros.
I slept soundly and woke up the next morning before sunrise. After morning coffee and e-mail, Cosmo and I walked down to the lake. It was very crowded and the lake was lined with pick-up trucks. We found out that it was a training class for scuba divers. There were probably a dozen trucks and at least that many scuba diving students.
On our way back up to the van, we met a man about my age. We talked for nearly an hour. He had lived in Madison and Long Beach so we swapped stories about our times in each town. He gave me some pointers on where to stay when I go to Las Vegas tomorrow. Most of the vans left early in the morning. There was a caravan that took off before I was up and dressed, and they trickled up the road throughout the morning. Usually on a Saturday everyone is coming IN to camp, not leaving.
The wind howled most of the afternoon, and it was a great day to finish up my bookkeeping so I can get it off to my accountant to do my taxes.
(Thanks Richard, for your help with Excel. I could never have done it without you!).
Lessons from the Road: I’m becoming more and more aware of the “two worlds” I inhabit. Spending the week with Barbara and Lark, I was back in my old world. We went out to eat, went shopping, and did some tourist stuff. When I left there, I went back to MY world of looking for places to spend the night, getting water for my fresh water tank, and hanging out with strangers wherever I was staying.
Barbara and Lark were so accommodating and parking in their driveway was easy and comfortable. I had the luxury of using their shower and laundry facilities. It gave me my own space, and allowed me to still interact with them easily. As much fun as I had going out to eat, and shopping at Costco, that is not my world anymore. The whole time, I feel aware that I live in the world of looking for free places to stay for the night, the world of the homeless and “home-free.” I also realized that when I’m in “The Empire” (as a friend of mine refers to this world I left), most people know I’m not really a part of it. I can’t explain it, but I’m often treated as a visitor, and sometimes even as a guest. I can’t tell you how often people will say “I like your hat” or “That’s a great beard.” They say it as if I’m “other.” I don’t mind that. Actually, I sort of like it. I can weave in and out of “the empire,” unnoticed by most, and a fascination to others, and then slip back into my own world unscathed.