I woke up with my teeth chattering from the cold. It took me a minute to realize that I was naked with no covers and all the windows of the van were open. Cosmo was snuggled in his nest of the sleeping bag that once covered me, snoring gently. I got up and grabbed a sweatshirt and put the coffee on. Google told me it was 47⁰ outside. No wonder I was cold. I got a breakfast biscuit, grabbed my coffee and rousted Cosmo to reclaim my half of the sleeping bag, and pulled it over me as I got back into bed. I opened my little fold-down shelf next to me and placed my coffee cup on it and pulled up my e-mails on my phone. Out the east window was the red ball of the sun, rising between the pine trees; out the north window was the Klamath River. It doesn’t get much better than that.
I eased into the day, reading headlines from several different papers, and doing Wordle and the NY Times mini-crossword puzzle. I made Cosmo breakfast and ate last night’s leftovers for my morning meal. Then we went for a walk. It was still chilly out and had a distinctive feeling of being a crisp, autumn day. I liked it.
My tongue was sore, and I remembered I’d chipped a tooth last night. Actually, I’m pretty sure I lost a filling. I was eating a tootsie roll and came across a tiny rock in it. I picked it out and wondered what it was just before my tongue found the giant crater in a lower molar. It had jagged edges and was at least the size of a Volkswagen. And being a holiday weekend, there is not much that could be done until Tuesday, so I tried to train my tongue to just leave it be. I’d have to wait until Tuesday to start the process of calling dentists in the area and explaining that I’m traveling, and I need some emergency care.
By the time breakfast was over and I’d tired of sitting in bed doing puzzles and reading about all the petty problems of politicians, the sun had warmed the air sufficiently to go for a real walk. Cosmo and I went down by the river, and I just sat on a big rock overlooking the water for a bit, while Cosmo kept watch for chipmunks. When we got back to the van, I took my flip flops off and reached inside for a washcloth. I opened my “basement” and turned on the water saving shower head and washed my feet the best I could. As beautiful as the site along the river was, it was also one of the dirtiest places I’d ever stayed. There are three dirt “roads” leading from my large site down to many smaller sites by the river. The roads are not passable by a normal car. Trucks drive past me and down one of the dirt roads throughout the day; some go speeding and bumping along, bottoming out along the way. Others drive at a snail’s pace and manage to get down to the river without tearing up their undercarriage. And some off-roaders go flying down. All stir up the dirt and, I’m supposing, grind it to an even finer powder. When Cosmo and I walk any of the roads, the brown baby powder puffs up around our feet with each step. It’s like that Charlie Brown character Pig Pen, always surrounded by a cloud of dirt. That’s us. When I return to the van, I’m brown from just below my knees all the way to my toes. My feet are black from grinding that dirt in as I walk. I spray off with water that is quite pressurized as it comes propelled out of tiny holes in the outdoor shower head. Most of the dust washes off; some remains and I try my best to take it off with a paper towel, usually with limited success. I’ve been taking my shoes off before I enter the van, hoping to keep the inside dust to a minimum, but Cosmo has twice as many feet as I do, and walks in, crosses two rugs and hops up onto his spot in the seating area. It’s a lost cause. I will be visiting friends soon and will take the opportunity of being in a stable clean environment for a few days to wash all my seat cushions and start over fresh. When I get to Long Beach, Richard has already said we’ll hire a carpet cleaning company. They’ll do his carpets in the condo and then come out and do my floors and the back fabric walls of my van.
As beautiful as this BLM land is, it attracted some fairly unappealing characters over the Labor Day weekend. Several truckloads of young men (late teens/early twenties?) have torn through at various times throughout the weekend. The first group was loud but waved politely and just went down to the river to fish. I could hear them laughing and they waved again as they left around sundown. I walked down a little later and there was a lot of trash and beer bottles strewn around. It is mind-boggling to me that anyone, young people especially, could be so disrespectful of such a magnificent place. Another group of young men, same age, came barreling through one night, sending massive clouds of dust as they spun their tires and raced down one dirt road and up another. They never stopped. It seemed their intent was just to prove they had an over-abundance of testosterone. I don’t know if it was the long, holiday weekend, or maybe it’s just this part of Oregon. Most everyone was friendly. Many who passed by waved. But there was a definite red-neck feel about the crowd. An old man at the next opening up the road drove his pick-up truck in and out several times a day. From the back of the truck, attached near the back tailgate was a large American flag, with 13 stars in a circle. On the white stripes were the words of the 2nd amendment. The flag was the size of a bedsheet. I can’t imagine a rational reason for such a display. I think of what values are important to me. I can’t think of any so important that I’d have a giant banner waving from my vehicle advertising it. It’s hard for me to decipher what kind of person believes that owning guns is so important that he needs to make such a spectacle of proving it. It felt mean-spirited and meant to be intimidating. I just couldn’t wrap my head around that mindset.
People in their little off-road buggies raced up and down the main road, and often turned off on the smaller side-dirt roads, running over vegetation, and appearing to just want to destroy anything tranquil or beautiful. I’d not been in a place like this for a while and it is somewhat jarring.
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I went to a dentist. Everyone in the office was over-the-top pleasant except the dentist herself. She wasn’t mean or anything, just not much of a bedside manner. She ground the sharp edge of my tooth down (after x-rays, of course…they can’t seem to do anything without X-rays first.) I asked if she could replace the filling and she told me “No. part of the tooth broke off with the filling. The tooth that’s left is mostly filling so there is nothing to attach the filling to. You’ll need a crown when you get to some place where you’ll be staying for a couple of weeks.” Then she said, “How’s that feel?” I said “Better” and she was gone. The dental assistant wished me safe travels, said she was jealous of my ability to go anywhere I want for as long as I want. I gave her my card and told her to look me up when she got her RV and was ready to know about some cool spots. My share of the cost was $22. I guess that’s good.
On my way to Klamath Falls, I went to Planet Fitness first. I got a quick shower so the dentist wouldn’t think I was some sort of troll who lives under a bridge (Even thought I AM sometimes). Afterwards, I stopped at a grocery store and bought real food (asparagus, bananas, strawberries, a potato, some tomatoes, broccoli, and Mediterranean Salad mix. I got Cosmo some hamburger and myself some tofu. It was a very upscale grocery store (with prices to match) and I got freshly rolled veggie sushi rolls for my lunch. I got gas and topped off my propane tank. I went to the dollar store and got some treats for Cosmo and some diet Dr. Pepper for me. I was back in my same camping spot (for one more night) before noon. I ate my sushi and opened up my side and rear doors. There was a nice breeze. It rained in the morning, so everything felt fresh and maybe just a tad less dusty. It felt like a free day. I had intended to leave the day before but had to wait for my dental appointment. So the only thing left after I’d run all my errands, topped off all my tanks, was to decide where I wanted to drive the following day.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I fell asleep easily, but about an hour later, I was awakened by a car peeling through my campsite. My site was a large, dirt lot, easily big enough for two rigs. Off of that were three separate dirt roads, all somewhat steep and rocky. The car flew past my van, setting Cosmo off, and went way too fast down the rockiest of the roads toward the Reservoir. I could hear it bottom out several times as it stirred up a huge cloud of fine dust. I could see the headlights illuminating the trees down by the water and heard car doors, and (it sounded like), the trunk open and close. I heard laughing and shouting, mostly dropping F-bombs. I couldn’t make out much of what they were shouting about, but I did hear “Fuck” repeated over and over many times. They would quiet down, and I’d doze back off, and they’d start up again. A few times I thought they might be fighting. There was as least one male and one female voice. Then I heard the sound of cans being flattened on a rock and more shouting. I guess I’ve parked at the entrance of a favorite teen drinking spot. I fell asleep until they came crashing up the rocky road, bottom scraping on the tall rocks in the middle, and then they stopped by my van momentarily before spinning the wheels, sending dust and gravel flying and they whooped and hollered as they tore off down the road. Young terrorists in training.
This part of the country is so beautiful geographically. I can’t say much for its inhabitants. Aside from the few deer and the dozens of cows who walk silently past us several times a day, taking their time to eat the tall, dry grass as they saunter along, the other residents are pretty much assholes. I can’t imagine living in a place with such natural beauty and going out of my way to deface rocks with spray paint and throw my beer cans on the ground. Whitney Houston sang “I believe that children are our future.” If that is so, then our future is very bleak indeed.
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On Thursday, we moved southward, and crossed into California. I don’t know why, but I felt a bit more secure, a little less of a nomad when my GPS announced, “Welcome to California.” I think because I lived here before, because I have friends in the state. It feels a bit more like being “closer to home” though I had only driven 10 miles. Our destination was Lake Orr Campground. It was a free campground with no amenities other than pit toilets and trash containers. It was about the right distance between where we were and Weed, CA, where we would head after the weekend. The drive was easy until the end. As we got to within 3 miles the road turned into dirt, and the GPS kept telling us to make turns that didn’t exist, or to turn on roads that I couldn’t find. I finally pulled over and got out my notes on Lake Orr. I should have looked more closely at what I’d typed into my calendar. A previous visitor to the campground wrote, “GPS coordinates didn’t work for us. We used… “and it gave a different set of coordinates. I typed in the new coordinates and it took me 3 miles down the road and turned me onto one of the worst roads I’ve been on in a while (and you know I’ve been on some bad ones). I should have known when it said it was 2 miles down this road and it would take 10 minutes. I drove and drove, between narrow openings between pine trees, and down some gullies and over some ruts and ended up back where I had started. I was about to look for a back up site when I saw a sign that said “Lake Orr” with an arrow pointing to the left (my GPS kept wanting me to be to the right.) I took the road and within a mile there was the campground. It was pleasant enough but only had 4 sites and said you couldn’t camp except in designated sites. Luckily, three of the 4 were still open and I picked the sunniest one. I got set up easily and we walked to the lake. The lake was visible from the van, but unrecognizable as a lake. It was covered in algae and other growth that looked like seaweed and lily pads. From the van, I thought it was a meadow. My plans for a nice swim (and a chance for Cosmo to get a bath) were dashed. I thought perhaps we’d take a walk as there were several hiking trails through the forest. Then I saw this sign:
We went back to the van. I thought perhaps I’d catch up on e-mail and maybe watch something mindless on YouTube. No internet. No cell service.
We moved again the next morning.
I had three possibilities for camping for free. The first seemed most promising, but when I got there (just north of Weed, CA) the road in was extremely rough. I stopped at the first spot I could find but it was very unlevel. I pulled out and moved to the side of the rutted dirt road. I decided it was too risky to drive my van down a bad road that I may not be able to turn around on, so Cosmo and I got out and I was about to walk down it when I spotted a Jeep coming my way. I waved and sort of stood in the way, so the woman driving stopped, and I asked if the road was bad where she had come from. She replied, “Very bad.” She asked if I was looking for a camp spot and made two suggestions. She warned that at the first spot there was a man doing “target practice” but said they rarely stayed long and he would be gone very soon. I walked that road, and it was probably passable in the van, but was still quite rough, rutted and rocky. I took her second suggestion and got back on the paved road and drove a mile south to the second spot. There was a big yellow sign warning that due to recent fires there was danger of falling trees and rocks and flash floods that could wash a vehicle away. I was dubious, but with no rain in the forecast, I thought I’d look and park far from any burnt trees. I drove less than a mile down the very rutted road and saw a big, level spot, but it was glistening in the sun. When I got there, it was covered with smashed bottles. Even if my tires could withstand the broken glass, I wasn’t going to put Cosmo’s paws through that. I went down a road to the right and saw a dumped TV, bags of trash torn open by animals and strew around and a burned-out pick-up truck that had no wheels. It had been there for a while. I decided this was not a good place for me. I got out my phone and looked at my camping apps. There was an “established campground” just south of Weed, and it had good reviews, well-spaced sites and was only $5 for us old folks with the National Park Golden Pass.” That sounded like my kind of spot.
I stopped in Weed as we passed through. I saw the part of the town had been wiped out by the fire last week. Blackened rubble, and charred remains of what used to be people’s homes lined both sides of the road where the wildfire had jumped the main street. I got gas, and then found the world famous “The Weed Store.” I went in and asked the very friendly owner how he was doing. He said “I’m doing well. Things are starting to return to normal after a very difficult week.” He said the electricity had been turned back on the previous day. We chatted as I shopped for “Weed” memorabilia. There were “I Weed” T-shirts, mugs, bumper stickers, caps and on and on. I settled on a purple “Weed, California” T-shirt (because as my friend Richard pointed out, I really needed another t-shirt) and a tiny sticker for the back of my van. As I shopped, I talked with the owner. He asked if I was camping, and I gave him the brief rundown of how my life works. I told him I was headed toward Mt. Shasta, and he showed me the place he liked to camp. It was the same place I had picked out for my next stop (after the established campground). He told me the easy road to get there, which I appreciated. It was a nice conversation.
I left and drove about half an hour more to the campground. I found a nice spot (13 campsites total) in the sun and relatively level. I set up camp and Cosmo and I walked around the loop. There were very few campers, and that was fine with me. Our site was near the entrance, but few people came and went throughout the day, and it was extremely quiet at night. It was a big spot with a picnic table, and a firepit (which currently has a little red flag saying “NO FIRES”). I sat outside and read much of the day; Cosmo laid dutifully by my side, guarding me against any squirrels or chipmunks that may have malicious intent.
Shortly after sundown, the moon rose in the southeast. It was full and incredibly bright. When I got out of the van everything was lit up and because the moon was still low in the sky, it cast long, eerie shadows from everything it touched, including me. I had my earbuds in, a present from my friend Richard who likes me to be technologically current, even if I do presently live in a forest. I immediately switched from my playlist to YouTube and found Cat Steven’s “Moonshadow.” Cosmo and I did our own little “hooray-for-the-full-moon” dance, in our campsite surrounded by shrubs and various evergreens. It was a beautiful way to end a week with many highs and lows.
Lessons from the Road: The eastern and southern parts of Oregon are absolutely breathtaking. They are also filled with horrible people. From the “2nd Amendment Guy” to the off-roaders, to the kids who park down by the river, drink beer and throw the beer cans on the ground, to the people who come raging down the dirt roads, bottoming out and stirring up dirt without any concern for those camping nearby, there are a lot of people who aren’t just inconsiderate, but seem a tad hateful and defiant. So many in this part of the country (except for Bend) seem to have a “fuck you” attitude. And yet, I have so many who pass by, see me outside reading and wave politely, so maybe their attitude is not so much belligerence, but ignorance? There is one guy who beeps every time he passes, and he smiles and waves. He’s done that for days now and I wonder why he doesn’t stop and say hello. So maybe Oregon is just like the rest of the country these days, divided between those who care, those who try to be kind and make the world a better place and those who are filled with rage, just looking for someone to take it out on.
I am so tired of dirt.
This morning, I woke up and decided that I had to clean before moving to the next spot. I swept and mopped the floor. I got a damp cloth and wiped the dashboard, the table, my solar generator, countertops—anything horizontal that had a layer of dust on it. I drove down the worst roads to get to my new spot and by the time I arrived, I couldn’t see out the rear window it was so covered in dust. The entire van had a quarter inch of dust on the outside, and the inside wasn’t much better. When I lived in Wisconsin, I remember one winter not even being able to remember what it was like to be warm. When I arrived at my new location, I was thinking I couldn’t remember what it was like to be clean! I swept and mopped again, and got up on a ladder and cleaned my solar panels. The campground I was in didn’t seem quite as dusty as the road in was. I was a few hundred yards from Orr Lake in CA, but the lake was covered in algae. There were signs warning of rattlesnakes in the area, and there was no cell phone service. I can’t wait to get back to someplace that is snake-less, that has grass, and clean water and a lot less dirt.