I spent my final day in Flagstaff “doing the mapping thing.” I’m heading to Winslow tomorrow, and I not only mapped my way there, but found a place to stay. The visitor center allows you to park overnight in their parking lot. After that, we’re heading east through some forests and staying in the petrified forest, then over to Taos before turning north to head to South Dakota to become “residents” so I can register my van there (the cheapest, easiest state to do so. No state taxes. No vehicle inspections. Don’t ask/Don’t tell for RV owners. Once registered you can renew online without ever returning.) Of course, I plan to stop many places along the way and once in SD (I’m hoping to get an address near Rapid City as that’s very close to the western border where I’ll be on my way to Oregon) I think we’ll spend time in the Badlands again. I loved being there last year, but our trip got cut short by a raging once-in-a-century heatwave.
Flagstaff was very low-key. I spent some time each day sorting and cleaning one small area of the van. One day I cleaned out a kitchen cupboard. I removed everything, threw out what hadn’t been used or had expired, and reorganized and put it away. Stuff no longer falls out when I open the door. The next day I moved onto another segment. Cosmo and I took walks every morning and evening. When we are far from people, I let him off leash and we practice his recall abilities. He’s doing well. I watched mindless YouTube videos, read and took naps. A year ago that would have been unthinkable for me. I was always such a type A personality and would get nervous if I wasn’t busy all the time. Now, very little seems urgent. I’ve become the tortoise in the race, and cleaning out a cupboard, or the fridge makes me feel like I’m one step closer to winning the race without worrying too much about when exactly the finish line will be in view.
The altitude in Flagstaff was difficult for me. I had trouble breathing when I went to Machu Picchu and Cuzco. I just couldn’t breathe deeply enough. Flagstaff isn’t quite as bad, but I feel it. I think allergies are also a factor. I’ve never had allergies, but since I crossed the Mississippi River last summer, I seem to be constantly blowing my nose, coughing and sneezing.
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We arrived in Winslow, AZ. We pulled into the Tourist Center/Chamber of Commerce and got a map. We stopped here for one reason:
And that, seems to be the main reason anyone stops in Winslow, AZ. The people in the Tourist Center were extremely friendly and informative, even though the building is old and, from the outside, seems very dilapidated. When I went inside and asked about things to do and see in town, the woman behind the counter pulled out a map and immediately showed me directions to “The Corner.” We walked the 4 blocks, past abandoned buildings and a couple bars/restaurants/coffee shops. There is a tall sign advertising Clarke’s Cleaners, standing next to an empty lot, presumably where the cleaner used to be. Across the street is a boarded-up business with the Arizona flag painted prominently on the front of the building, a testament to loyalty to the state that couldn’t save the business. The Tree of Life Ministry has tree branches and vines growing through its broken windows. Winslow looks like it could be a cool little town, but I don’t think it is. The main attraction is “the corner” and it seems the tiny tourist trade is all the keeps this city alive. Route 66 runs through the town, and when we got to the corner, we had to wait for bikers to pull their Harley’s up onto the sidewalk, take photos and then move the Harley’s back to the street. The ‘building’ itself, is not really a building. It is just a wall with cut outs of a painted eagle and people kissing in the “windows.” Somehow that “building” on the corner is a metaphor for the town itself, maybe even for America. It is just a façade with nothing behind it–a deception, both cute and sad at the same time.
We settled into the parking lot of the Tourist Center and took a space in the back corner. I made dinner as the center closed and the parking lot cleared out. Our van was the only vehicle in the lot. Soon after, the parking lot started filling up with cars and people, mostly men in sports coats and ties pulled in. Then a police car and a couple cars marked with Winslow Fire Department came. It appeared there was some sort of City Council meeting. I worried that someone would tell us we couldn’t park there, even though they said on Campendium that the town welcomed tourists to spend the night in the lot. A camper truck came and pulled in a couple of spaces from us. The couple got out without fanfare, climbed into the camper through the back door and settled down for the night. By 7:30, the meeting broke up and everyone filed out of the building, got in their cars and left. It was just me and the truck camper left.
I was awakened at midnight by bright lights and a loud diesel engine. A Class A “bus” came in, and pulled in the space between me and the truck camper. It was a new model, pulling a gigantic, 4-door pick-up truck behind it with bicycles on the back of the pick-up. They ran the engine for about 5 minutes, put out their slides and finally shut down the engine as it made a few final gasps. I try not to be judgmental. I try not to take part in the “Us vs. Them” conflict that seems to be what America has become. It’s not easy when people seem so inconsiderate. It feels to me that such conspicuous consumption is totally unnecessary, and it often seems that the conspicuous consumers have no regard for others. There is such a sense of entitlement to park such a big rig, 4 feet from two other smaller rigs, who have been there for hours and are now sleeping. It was a huge parking lot and they could easily have parked in any one (or two or ten) of the spaces, without shining high beams on us, and running their engine until we were wide awake. I think the correct word for that is “inconsiderate.” They are not mean. They are not bad people. They just are inconsiderate. They literally have zero consideration for anyone else.
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Cosmo and I made it to the entrance of the Petrified Forest National Park. We stayed in a free campground/museum parking lot. It used to be a paid campground, but the gift store across the street started allowing free camper parking, so the “museum” now has a big sign that says “RV Parking –FREE CAMPING.” I think that’s the only way they can get people to come into the museum and gift shop. It’s Navajo country. Everything is a bit run down and poorly run. I wanted a T-shirt from the gift store. The one I wanted with a Gecko and the words “Roam Free” on it was only in child’s sizes. I asked if they had adult ones. The girl behind the counter said, “No, we ran out.” I decided to get a sticker for my van that said “Petrified Forest National Park.” Many of the sticker slots on the rotating column of stickers were empty and said “Time to reorder.” They just don’t care. I was going to buy post cards and write some and mail them to friends today. I asked if they had post card stamps and the same girl looked at me as if I had two heads. Of course they didn’t. They have cans of coke for sale for $2.50 each. I took a pass on that. There is such a sense of not caring, not even trying. The campground is just a couple yards from the entrance of Petrified Forest National Park. How hard could it be to get some of the many RV’s heading in and out to spend the night here? Even if they only charged $15 or $20, that could be thousands of dollars a month. Such a sense of atrophy and hopelessness in this region. That being said, it was a lovely campground, mostly empty, with no amenities (I brought my own food/water/electricity, so “no amenities” is perfect for me!) The night sky was pitch black with just a sliver of a moon and billions of stars.
The night was uneventful. I was so glad to see that people were respectful of a free place to camp for the night. Most of the people were in smaller rigs, but the couple of Class A’s arrived before sunset and went far back into an adjacent lot. At about 9:30, a van pulled in, slowly and quietly, with only parking lights on. He took a spot near mine, and quickly cut his lights and engine. I could tell by the way he opened and closed his doors that he was taking great pains to be quiet. About 5 minutes later another van pulled in and parked on the other side of the first van. He too had only parking light on and drove quietly to his spot.
The days are getting noticeably longer. I woke with the blazing sun in my eyes, and looked at the clock. It was 5:00 a.m. I called Cosmo who was near the edge of the bed, and he came up and put his head next to mine. I put my arm around him and fell back to sleep until almost 6:00. Time is still an issue for me, and not just the numbers on a clock. I was thinking about Winslow this morning and honestly couldn’t remember if I had stayed there yesterday or the day before. (OK, I was not fully caffeinated at the time.) When I finally realized that I was at my first stop after Winslow, I knew I had to have left Winslow yesterday. But what DAY was that? What day is THIS? I tried unsuccessfully to figure it out, and in the end had to refer to my phone for day and date. It was Wednesday. But once I knew, it really made no difference. I was heading to the petrified forest, no matter what day of the week it was or what time. But I also realized by looking at my phone and calendar that Memorial Day Weekend will be upon us. I DO need to keep track of that. I definitely don’t want to pull into a camping spot on Friday afternoon only to find everything is packed. I like to get settled in on Thursday or Friday and hang out until Sunday or Monday morning before heading to my next spot.
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Last night was one of the worst nights I’ve had since being on the road. I couldn’t find much in eastern AZ on the way to New Mexico, but two of the camping apps suggested a rest stop along Route 40. One made it sound like it would be more than adequate; the other made it sound like it was a total resort. It was, in fact, just a tiny rest stop, crowded and extremely noisy. I’ve never spent the night at a rest stop, but I’ve stopped for breaks during the day. Many have big parking lots in the back with pull-throughs for larger trucks and RV’s. This one had about 8 pull-throughs in the front, and head-in parking along the curb where the vending machines/bathrooms were. There was a pull-through open, but with there being so few, and as crowded as it was, I felt too guilty about taking a space a trucker may need, when I could easily fit in a spot along the curb. I parked at the far end, by a sign that said “Pet Exercise Area.” I figured Cosmo would like that. It wasn’t a fenced-in area for dogs, but rather just the furthest spot from the buildings. It was clear they wanted dogs to poop far from people. Still, it was away from the building, so I thought that would be a good spot. By the time it started getting dark, the lot was packed. People were driving round and round, waiting for someone to leave so they could take their parking space. We were about 50 yards from I-40, and the traffic was incessant. The truckers all left their diesel engines running and although they were loud, they were not loud enough to drown out the interstate traffic noise. Just beyond the interstate were train tracks—very BUSY train tracks, with trains passing both ways all night long, being sure to blow their whistles long and loud the entire stretch.
I took Cosmo for several walks on the dirt at the far end marked as his “exercise area.” There were several signs warning of poisonous* snakes and insects with pictures of a rattlesnake and a scorpion. That didn’t make me happy, but fortunately, Cosmo can’t read, so he enjoyed the “exercise.” There was zero Verizon Cell Service, so no internet, and no ability to check out my route for the next day. I went to bed early, fearing it would be a long, sleepless night. Just about the time I’d doze off, an adjacent car would decide to leave, banging doors and revving their engine. When any truck pulled out, there was a loud sound of air escaping, like the biggest soda bottle you can imagine being opened. Then some screeching and grinding as they found the right gear and pulled out. Even with all that, I did manage to get some sleep. I pulled down all my shades to minimize the light pollution and took half a Benadryl (that always knocks me out). In spite of the noise, the surrounding area was beautiful buttes and cliffs. The sunrise was beautiful and many of the cars had cleared out by 7:00 a.m. allowing me to move my van close to a potable water spigot that I could hook up my hose to and top off my fresh water. I was on the road by 8:00.
I crossed over into New Mexico and got to a National Forest just east of Gallup. After traveling down a long dirt road, I came to a locked gate with a sign saying “National Forest Closed due to extreme fire hazard.” Just before the gate was a small clearing with a newer model van parked on it. I drove around it hoping its occupant might come out and invite me to share the spot, but no such luck. I saw a truck camper up on the ridge, but the road to get there was steep and rocky, so I didn’t even try. I turned around and found a spot where the ditches on the sides of the roads were minimal, and I could easily cross onto the clearing. I found a level spot and set up, hoping I was not on private property, or if I was, that I was so far at the edge of a ranch that nobody would notice me.
If you are interested in reading the description or finding the most beautiful spot in your state, you can find that information at https://apple.news/Aa54z-Jp4Rf6wNrwA9ky05Q (Thank you CBIII for the info).
*I’ve read that there is actually no such thing as a poisonous snake. “Poisonous” refers to something you ingest, and there is no snake that is poisonous if you eat it. The correct term is “Venomous.” I assume the same thing applies to scorpions and other arachnids.
Lessons from the Road: I like living in the forest. Of course, I said I loved being in the desert too, with its spectacular sunrises and sunsets, and incredible night skies. But the forest is beautiful all day long. I get enough sun to charge my solar system, and enough shade to feel comfortably cool. I can hear the wind rustling through the tall pines. It’s like having my own tiny cabin in the woods. It’s a nice change of pace.
With each passing week, I get more and more used to the idea that I don’t need to worry about where I’m going next. I’ve been trying for a long time to “be here now” and I don’t always succeed. Because I’m living a nomadic life, and because most BLM land has a 14-day limit for staying, I will need to move on from wherever I am, but I’m becoming more accustomed to not planning my drive for weeks or months in advance. It’s enough to have a vague direction in mind, and to know where I’m staying that particular night, but beyond that, I want to learn to be more fluid and flexible. I’m heading into Winslow today, and I plan on staying at the Tourist Center Parking lot. They have good reviews, and people say they felt safe and comfortable there and very close to the tourist stuff and downtown. It’s not a place to set up house, so I’ll only stay one night and I’ve scouted several options for places to go the following day, but I’ll decide each morning how far I want to drive, double check weather, and see if there are any fires in my path and make a final decision. I’m working on finding more and more places where I can stay for a week or longer if I like it. I don’t enjoy it when my life is about finding the next place. I am in heaven when I find a nice place and have fully stocked food, water and propane and think “What must I do today?” and the answer is “Absolutely NOTHING.”