“To everything, there is a season.”
– Ecclesiastes 3 (and The Byrds 😊)
The “B & L Driveway” was an oasis in an otherwise blistering landscape. I really hesitated to head back north when my destination was to the south. Going back felt like retreating. It felt like admitting defeat. It turned out to possibly be life-saving as the temperature (if you can ever believe weather.com) got up to 104 degrees where I was staying near Cordes Lake, AZ. The driveway offered some shade, a nice breeze and yet another chance to connect with Barbara and Lark before heading south for the winter.
It was hot all week in Prescott Valley, usually in the mid-90’s but where I had been on Bloody Basin Road in Cordes Lakes often moved into the triple digits. I’m chomping at the bit to move southward to New River (just north of Phoenix) and then onto the hot springs in Tonopah (just west of Phoenix…notice I always go around Phoenix as opposed to going into Phoenix). I’m anxious to get to Quartzsite and over to Ehrenberg. Those places are probably my two places I most consider home followed by Flagstaff and Two Guns in the summer months. The winters are easy in Q and Ehrenberg. Not so easy in the summer, but certainly doable at Flag and Two Guns. But with the extreme change in weather the past few years, I have no choice but to learn patience. I cannot move into the 108⁰ weather that Quartzite is experiencing this week. The time will come for me to return south, but this week is not that time.
My body is confused. The temperature tells me it is mid-July, while the short days and angle of the sun tell me we are rapidly approaching winter. My solar batteries are not charging fully every day even with my solar suitcase outside. The sun is low, and the neighbor’s trees block the sun completely until noon. The shade helps keep the van cool, but means I have to pay attention to my electric usage.
On Thursday I moved to a nearby campground. I didn’t want to take advantage of Barbara and Lark’s hospitality. I’d been there for almost 2 weeks a couple weeks ago, then came back due to the heat (unplanned visit.) I was starting to get itchy feet, and as comfortable as their driveway is, and as much as I enjoyed being able to go into the air-conditioned house anytime it got hot, I felt the need to be away from traffic, road noise and “city life.” The campground is at Watson Lake, and I can see the lake from my campsite. There is a lot of traffic during the day. Many people come to kayak or just play in the park. There have been few campers at night. Ther are two sections: one section you can reserve. The other is First Come, First Served. I’m in the second section and happy I did NOT reserve. The reserved campground is just a gravel parking lot. People are jammed in. The FCFS spaces are close, but up on a hill with shrubs and trees separating the spots. There have been one or two other people staying here with me at night, and although they are close, I cannot see them unless we take a walk along the paved road. It’s pleasant enough.
Lessons From The Road: In this heightened season of election stress, everything seems hyper-partisan. Us against them. Pick a team and everyone else is the enemy. It occurred to me that hoping electing the right person will fix all our problems (Or at least minimize new ones) is not only the wrong way to think about it, but probably what the government hopes we are thinking. After meeting Patsy last week (the rancher up on the hill who stopped to make sure I was OK in the heat, and after Barbara and Lark coming to my rescue from the blazing heat south of us, it became clearer than ever that it is going to be up to us to take care of ourselves and each other. I’m betting Patsy has no idea what an impression she made on me. Her simple act of kindness—stopping to make sure a fellow human wasn’t going to perish in the 104⁰ heat—touched me deeply. Why is this such a surprising thing? One person checking in on a fellow human being? And yet it is a rare thing. And Barbara and Lark saying “come on back” when I realized I had jumped the gun by heading south too early and was in the middle of a burning desert. I’ve vowed to go out of my way each day to do at least one act of kindness. I promised myself that my motto for the new year (2024) was going to be “How can I be of service?” I feel I’ve not done a great job at that. Now that I’ve seen its effect on me when others offer to be of service, I’m feeling a need to renew that promise and keep trying until I get it right.