By Sunday morning I was ready to move. The weekend had brought two big groups of campers/off-roaders. I realize the National Forest is just made for driving quads over the rugged dirt roads, but they just annoy the hell out of me. I find them rude nearly to the point of terrorism. Two actually drove through my campsite after 10:00 p.m., perhaps just because they could, but I suspect just to see if they could get a rise out of me. In most camping or nomadic circles, it is considered extremely rude to cut through another’s campsite, by foot or by vehicle; to drive through, with “music” blaring from loudspeakers, and lights flashing after bedtime is so far beyond rude, I don’t know if there is a word for it. Both sites had multiple cars, trucks, pull-behind campers, and a variety of tents. They erected Easy Up tents to cover the group picnic areas. One group blared loud Mexican music (with the bass so loud it rattled my windows from a quarter mile away. All I could hear was what sounded like tubas playing a polka) and the other group playing some strange techno music by day and the greatest hits of the 80’s by night. There was no awareness from either group that there were other people living in the forest who might not want to hear what they wanted to hear all day and half the night.
So Saturday night, I started packing up everything that was outside (small table and folding chair, cacti, solar lights) and brought them inside. I got up early on Sunday, had coffee, finished battening down everything and left. I joked with a friend that this would be my long trek for the summer, heading to Monument Valley, UT to meet a friend. The “trek” would take a total of about 3 hours or so, and I’d take 3 days to get there, stopping at two different spots before arriving. I’m guessing Lewes and Clark made better time by horseback, but I don’t rush anymore. I first stopped and topped off water and propane, and then drove on to the Flagstaff Walmart to get a few things I’d run out of. Then onto my next spot which appeared on the map to be just north of Flagstaff. I was still in a forest but am not quite sure which one. Many of the trees were blackened by a forest fire that I suspect happened last summer. The grasses had all come back and many of the trees still had live branches near the top. To the east and west were mountains.
It was a beautiful spot in spite of burned trees and the main road in and out being too close to where I camped. There was traffic during the day. It appeared they were doing some sort of roadwork beyond where I parked, with trucks coming and going carrying gravel and huge rocks. After sunset, it was silent and dark and as serene as could be.
The change in weather was quite pronounced. The day I arrived, it was sunny and hot, but I took advantage of a cool breeze by opening all my doors and windows. Unlike the last spot, there were few bugs to contend with at the new spot. The next day there were thunderstorms, which concerned me because there was a warning posted at the entrance of this section saying that due to fire, there was a risk of flash floods and falling trees. After some exploration, I realized that there was what looked like a dried-up stream to my west, and it appeared that if there was enough rain, that stream would run downhill, toward my van and probably fork to the front and back of my vehicle. (I seemed to be parked on a slight hill between the tributaries.) Fortunately, it was quite sandy and the little rain we did get, absorbed quickly, and packed the loose sand down a bit. By Tuesday, it was clear, cool, and windy. On our morning walk, I had the distinct feeling of an early fall day. It was 70 degrees. The sun was warm, but the mountain air was quite chilly. It was heaven after weeks of blistering heat.
Before bed, I plotted a course to my next stop. That sounds so maritime, like I have a sextant and nautical maps. In actuality, I just opened Google Maps and plugged in the coordinates of my destination. I can pull it up on my phone the next day, and the Great Google Machine tells me when to turn and when to go straight. When I hear that voice say “You have arrived” I put the van in park and turn off the ignition.
I drove just over an hour to Tuba City, AZ (I figured I was quite used to tubas by now, so it would feel like home.) I stayed there last year a couple of times on my way to and from Flag. It is a hotel/RV park on Navajo land. I asked to stay in one of the tent sites which is much cheaper than staying in one of the spots with full hook-ups, and it is off to the side so it offers more privacy. I did two large loads of laundry and took a long shower. The laundry room and showers were directly across from me, so I could go back to my van and wait for the wash cycle to finish, move the clothes to the dryers and again go back to the van and wait. The campground was quiet. There were a few stray dogs wandering around as there always seems to be on Navajo land. One seemed to stay under my van to get out of the sun. I considered (for the briefest minute) of taking him with me when I left. There was a fenced in dog park with agility equipment. Cosmo LOVES to show off, for other people and dogs, so he had a blast jumping through a hoop, running through a tunnel, and jumping over a bar. We went there 4 different times, and he ran the course until he was out of breath.
A big thunderstorm rolled in, the breeze kicked up and it rained hard most of the night. By morning it was clear and cool, and we packed up once again and headed toward Monument Valley (Think Road Runner cartoons).
On the road into Monument Valley, the view was breathtaking. I stopped to take a couple of photographs.
On the side of the road was a native woman selling Navajo jewelry. We chatted briefly and she told me she and her mother made the jewelry. I bought a pair of earrings (I didn’t have the heart to ask if I could just buy one).
I got checked into the campground, took a shower, and waited for Kent. He got hung up and close to midnight said he was tired and stopping for the night. Cosmo and I went to bed with the glow of quartz halogen lights from the nearby campsite office shining outside and the chatter of campers in rental RV’s trying to figure out how to hook up their water and electric.
Kent texted in the morning and said he was about an hour away. I did my morning ritual and got a second cup of coffee. I saw my neighbors outside (Silke and Kristop) and went outside to say good morning. At that moment, I happened to turn around and saw Kent and Felix pulling in. We got caught up, and then went for a hike.
Afterwards, Kent and Felix took their radio-controlled rock-climbing car and went across the street to play and I got in the pool. My swim was short lived as the water was too cold for me. When they came back, it began raining, so we made sandwiches and sat in my van and ate and yacked. It was so good to spend time with Kent again. We met in 1997 when I worked in a photo lab in Rehoboth Beach and Kent would bring film in for me to develop. We’ve stayed friends all these years and when I left Delaware, we vowed that someday we’d park our vans next to each other. Today was that day. He flew into Utah, rented a van, and joined me over in Monument Valley. It was like old times to hang out.
Saturday morning, we headed north to Mexican Hat, UT. The views were breathtaking; the heat was just this side of unbearable.
If you look really closely, you can see the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote just below that rock formation in the center of the picture.
Apparently, it’s a thing for people to stop in this section of the road (because it is L-O-N-G and straight. There are road signs saying to watch for pedestrians. “Pedestrians” was not quite right. Many people were lined up to take their turn sitting in the middle of the road to have their photos taken. Felix and I opted for standing as there were cars coming up behind us.
We got to our camping spot. We were the only two vehicles there. Unfortunately, the really good spots were up an extremely steep, rocky, rutted dirt road. Kent made it up (barely) with 4-wheel drive. Cosmo and I were relegated to the spots down below. I was envious of Kent’s view. He had a fire ring, so we went up and visited at night before walking back down to our camp site on more level land.
Lessons From The Road: When I moved to Utah, I stayed in a Campground. I had stayed one night in an RV park in Tuba City. I had come to believe that campgrounds and RV parks were pretty much the same thing. Not so. I was reminded of what a campground is when I arrived at Goulding’s Campground in Monument Valley, UT. While the RV park in Tuba City had a variety of short and long-term visitors, The campground had only short-term campers. They were mostly staying just one or two nights and were mostly there as tourists either to see Monument Valley or heading to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon which was close by. While the RV park was sparsely populated, and I stayed off to the side in one of the tent sites, the campground was packed. My “site” was the equivalent of two parking spots in any given parking lot—one space to park, the other to hold a picnic table and hookup for water and electricity. People eventually pulled into the spots next to me on either side and across from me. It looked a lot like an old-time drive-in movie, with rows and rows of RV’s. About 80% of the RV’s were rentals. There are several companies who rent Class C RVs for vacationers, and apparently, they are doing quite a lucrative business. They are emblazoned on all sides with paintings of rock formations, or a desert with saguaro cacti, or some idyllic scene. And on every side is the logo and phone number of the rental company: Cruise America. 800 RV4Rent. A vast majority of the people seem to be from other countries. When I was checking in, and again when I went inside the main building to do laundry, the only English-speaking person was the clerk behind the counter (and English was clearly her second language).
I met a woman from Germany across from me in the campground. She and her husband and son were traveling the western U.S. for several weeks. They would see many National Parks, visit all the tourist areas, change their itinerary on a dime and not worry about finding or paying for, motels along the way.
The rest of the people renting RVs seemed to be campers. I don’t know if they were out for the weekend, or maybe deciding to be “van-lifers” during their yearly vacation. For a little over 2 years, I’ve lived mostly with nomads, so being packed in with campers was quite unusual for me. At first, I found it annoying as hell. It seemed most of the people who rent an RV from Cruise America had been given few instructions, nor had they done any homework on camping etiquette, or rules and restrictions. I blame the rental companies for not giving them at least the basics of RV life. Some reserved the smallest (cheapest) spots meant for tiny vans. When they arrived, they found they couldn’t fit their 30’ Class C into a 20’ van space. That didn’t deter them. They just parked sticking out into the road or blocking a sidewalk. Many pulled headfirst into the back-in only sites. All rigs- vans, Class C, and giant Class A’s- have their utility hookups on the driver’s side. If you pull into a back-in-only spot, then your hookup for water and electricity and sewage is on the wrong side, and if you hook up, then you are hooked up to the utilities provided for the person next to you. When they back in, their hookups are already taken by the wrong-way driver. I tried to explain that to a man who pulled his 35’ rig into a spot meant for a 20’ van. I saw him hooking up and told him he had not only pulled into a spot that he couldn’t fit in, but he was blocking the road, and was hooking up to the utilities of the person next to him. I said it as politely as I could, but he muttered something in Spanish and sneered at me in contempt as he waved me off. I moved on and about 15 minutes later an argument ensued. I’m not sure if it was someone from the office, or the person who had rented the spot that he was hooked up to, but it got heated, and eventually the Spanish speaking man left in a huff in his rented RV.
Campers are fundamentally different from nomads in that they know how to take full advantage of all the amenities offered by the campground. They get up in the morning and head to the public toilets and showers instead of using the ones in their rigs. It is humorous to me to see a stream of men, women, and children, in shorts (it was 95 degrees when I was there) and hoodies or jackets, towels over their shoulder, carrying a shaving kit or a Solo cup with a toothbrush in it. It made me smile. I felt I was a stranger in a strange land.
The campers next to me were in a car with a roof-top tent, which I thought was a pretty cool and very economical set-up. There were 5 of them…a husband and wife, two boys and a girl. The two boys seemed to be high school buds. They slept in the roof-top tent. I’m not sure about the couple and the girl. It seemed it would be quite crowded in a Honda sedan. They tried to light a fire in the grill next to their picnic table with little success. They finally gave up and sat at the table and played cards until bedtime.
I am just as inept at living like a camper. I caught myself several times closing my laptop so the battery would last longer, even though I was plugged into shore power—endless electricity! Likewise, the elaborate rituals I’ve learned over the years about when to switch my solar generator from the inverter (AC power) to DC to best conserve battery life were now moot. I’d go to switch the inverter off and realize that my entire system was off. After a split-second of panic, I’d realize that I’m plugged into the grid. It took some getting used to. I’d go to turn on my water pump when I wanted to wash my hands and then remember that I didn’t need to use water from my tank; I was hooked up to the city water supply. It was all quite strange. I felt like a caveman visiting Manhattan. And I was soon ready to head back to my cave.
The second day, nearly everyone cleared out, but by night our section of the campground was packed full. Having made friends with Silke and Kristoff across from me, I visited them when they were outside. I noticed most of the other campers were outside, either cooking on their grills or sitting around a firepit (only a few sites had firepits. I’m not sure why that was.) Nearly all the RV’s were identical, having been rented from the same company. Three feral dogs roamed from site to site in the hopes of getting a piece of leftover meat from the grill. They were quite tame, and sedate, so it was hard not to feed them. The campground had a feeling of a neighborhood. Some people waved as Cosmo and I walked past. Others didn’t look up. I suspect if they didn’t speak English, they had learned not to start a conversation. Everyone was friendly.
After Kent and Felix went to bed, I went over and sat with Silke. We had a good conversation with lots of laughter. It was nice to feel like people from opposite sides of the planet still had much in common.