Cosmo and I stayed in Kitty’s driveway through the weekend and into Monday. It was such a pleasant and productive visit. Kitty, being a part-time nomad, is so often on the same wavelength as I am. We seemed to have worked out, without actually needing to discuss it, the exact right amount of time to spend together, when to take breaks and go to our own places (she goes inside her trailer, Cosmo and I go to our van) and we easily figure out when, where and what to eat. For me, it’s the perfect balance of spending time with someone and still having my alone time. And she still went to work (on Monday) and did her chores, allowing (encouraging) me to do some chores of my own. I spent some time cleaning my van, washing cushion covers, solar panels, windows, cleaning rugs, and mopping the floor. I’ll continue to do that when I move to Long Beach at the end of the week, so when I start out my winter in the desert again, I’ll start fresh.
I scheduled an appointment with an RV place in Long Beach. I went there last year and they took very good care of me, replacing my worn out shocks with new “industrial strength” ones that have held up well on the mountain roads. I also got new tires. This year I’m getting my leaky faucet in the kitchen replaced and I think I’m adding an awning to the side. I’ve spent so much time in extreme heat this past summer and realized it is very uncomfortable in the van because the sun beats in through the windows and super-heats the van. An awning would not only allow me a pleasant place to sit outside out of direct sun, but would also help keep the van cooler in the hot months (which seems to be most months if last year was any indication.) They’ll also check my belts and brakes and do a general safety inspection.
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When we left Kitty, we headed still farther south, and stopped at Chino Hills Campground, just outside of Los Angeles.
The campground itself was mediocre, and would be unpleasant if its 20 sites were all occupied. Fortunately, Cosmo and I were at one end and the only other campers (a mom and her daughter) were at the opposite end. We couldn’t see them from our site, but we waved “good morning” as we passed each day on our sunrise walk. The campground is surrounded by hills and some trees, and from my “bedroom” in the back of the van, the rolling hills were often veiled in morning fog and mist. When I woke up each morning the combination of fog, and crows calling made me feel like I was in another, ancient time. I expected to see druids holding some sacred ceremony under a nearby tree. There is a public bathroom with running water and 4 (count ‘em) free showers, with hot (OK, tepid) water. The days spent there were easy, sitting under a shade tree and reading or listening to an Audible Book. Cosmo laid near my chair and watched in hopes of seeing any creature on the move. We seem to be the only living beings, at least until after sundown. We were both awakened several times during the night by the sound of nearby coyotes howling. It was somehow eerie and comforting at the same time. By the sounds, I think it was a large pack, with some babies. We were a little more cautious than usual when we went outside for our good-night pee.
The morning’s dense fog turns from grey to orange as the sun rises. The trees were silhouettes of varying shades of grey, depending on their distance from us. It was a very pleasant way to wake up and ease into out day.
I enjoyed my three days there. Most of the time Cosmo and I were the only ones there, except for the occasional cycler taking the loop at the end of the State Park Road and passing by our campsite. The campground is not well kept. There is trash blowing. They have one dumpster, behind a wall with closed doors (that are easily opened, if you just take a split second to look). They have concrete “boxes” that are marked “Hot Coals Only” and the one nearest me is filled with Miller Draft Beer and Red Bull cans and a couple used condoms. The one at the next campsite is filled with cans and balloons that had apparently been used in a water balloon fight, with many strewn on the campsite next to us. The concrete picnic table at my site is covered in mud, rendering it useless until the next serious rainfall, and on the top of the covered fire-pit are a few “sculptures” (I thought they were piles of poop at first, but decided they were the work of budding young artists.) I guess the people with children thought it was OK or the kids to smear mud all over the tables and benches and just leave it that way. It saddens me that people are so inconsiderate. But it also saddens me that The State collects $30 a night per campsite and only has an attendant at the gate on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. Maybe they can’t afford to pay anyone because they are only taking in $56 a night (the two of us camping here get the senior discount). Or maybe only two of us are paying to camp here because it is poorly maintained. It would be so easy to hire a camp host who could live here in their RV for free in exchange for picking up trash and encouraging (or shaming) people with kids to clean up the mess they made and to not leave deflated latex (balloons, or otherwise) strewn on the ground.
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We left Chino Hill and drove to Long Beach. When I checked my map the afternoon before we left, it said it would take 1 hour and 56 minutes to get there. But when we left the next morning, it said it would take just 46 minutes. I had forgotten that timing is everything when it comes to the L.A. Freeway system. We took the 71 to the 91 to the 55 to the 22 to the 405. I also had forgotten what a tangled web we must follow to get anywhere. The drivers were aggressive, and the 46-minute
drive felt more like a competition than a leisurely drive. Ah, but we made it and arrived at Steve and Richard’s condo in Signal Hill way ahead of schedule. It was so good to see them. It’s always like we haven’t been apart for over a year. We just pick up where we left off. Cosmo was SO excited to see them and to run up and down three flights of stairs. He was pretty jacked up the first day, not knowing which one of us to follow. He hates to let me out of his sight, but he can’t resist following Richard around or watching TV with Steve. Richard worked all day and I talked with Steve and opened all my packages (Anything I’ve wanted/needed for the past couple months, I had shipped to Steve and Richard and when I arrived, it was like Christmas, opening all my presents.) We had sushi for dinner. It was just good to be there.
I spent an hour the next day cleaning up the van. I went through all my clothes and anything I’d now worn in the past year went in a bag to go to Goodwill. Richard helped me figure out my new back-up camera. We’ve got a plan and will get it installed tomorrow.
Lessons From The Road: I realize how much I’ve settled into nomadic life. My iPhone sends me a notification each morning saying, “On this day…” and then shows me photos I took on this day, last year, the year before, 5 years ago, etc. Last year on this day, I was in Long Beach (I’m apparently running a little behind schedule this year). That was about 4 months into my journey. Now with a full year plus under my belt, I am a completely different man. The first few months of nomadic life, I spent finding places to stay in between visiting friends. This year, the “in between places” have become my life. They are where I live. And visiting friends is no longer my primary objective, nor is staying with them a break from campgrounds or BLM land. It is just a part of my life. I am much more integrated than I was a year ago. Wherever I happen to be is truly home, at least for the moment.
There has also been a huge switch in my perceptions. When I started out, driving on a rough dirt road in the wilderness was frightening, but over the past year, I guess the reward at the end (staying in a beautiful forest, or desert, or near a lake or river) made those roads not only feel worth the effort, but made them much less scary. This year, driving on the L.A. Freeways was the terrifying part. The 210 freeway is the exact opposite of Umpqua National Forest. I can feel the anger and fury emanating through the car windows as people fly by me, in a hurry to get to wherever they are going (And they are probably going someplace they rather not be). The roads are difficult. They seem to always be under repair, and yet, are never repaired. Potholes, lane shifts, white lines painted over with black paint and new white lines put down between the old lanes make driving feel dangerous and unpleasant. I stay far to the right—a little old man in a little old van, doing the best I can to navigate through uncertainty and road rage until I get to the next oasis in life.