As is often the case, Sunday was a work day for me. “Work” for me at this point in my life means that I have to find and move to a new location, get gas, propane, water or food, or any combination of those things. I moved, got gas and went grocery shopping, but all was accomplished in short order and I got settled in to Ohkay Hotel and Casino parking lot in Espanola, NM. It wasn’t pretty—just a dirt parking lot, but it was free and felt very safe. The payoff for having gone grocery shopping was lots of fresh fruits and vegetables to eat. I’ve learned to not try to ration or make them last. “Fresh” lasts only a couple days, and trying to make healthy food last throughout the week usually just means throwing half of it out. So I made a big, beautiful salad with fresh field greens, heirloom tomatoes, red and yellow sweet peppers, raisins and a sprinkling of shredded cheddar cheese. It was delicious. I let that settle in a bit and then cooked a fresh ear of corn. After a week of too many pasta dishes, fresh vegetables felt like such a treat. As I work my way up through New Mexico and Colorado and eventually into South Dakota, I feel a bit in limbo. I should be used to this feeling by now, but the after-effects of nearly 70 years of being goal-oriented linger on. There is no place I have to be by any certain time. There is nothing I must do. I can just BE. Maybe staying in a casino parking lot for the night made it more difficult to let go of the feeling that I need to be “getting somewhere.” But I think that’s just built into my psyche for now. I suppose I’ve come a long way since I left Delaware last June.
Which, speaking of Delaware, this week marks one year since I sold my home and got on the road. I look back and can barely recognize the man I was back then. This adventure is not at all like I had thought it would be. It is not better or worse (OK, I think it probably IS a little better) than I thought it would be, just different. The nearly two years I spent researching and watching “Van Lifers” on YouTube did little to prepare me for this journey. It is harder in ways I could never have imagined and at the same time so simple and easy on so many levels.
My night at Ohkay Casino parking lot was uneventful and extremely hot. It only got up to the upper 80’s but there was no breeze, and no air movement inside the van. It was unpleasant for me, but I felt so bad for Cosmo who just couldn’t get comfortable. As the sun set, the breeze came in and it cooled off considerably. I spent the late afternoon/early evening watching vehicles which seems to be my new hobby. I am amazed how many late model cars pull in, windows tinted black (which I’m certain is illegal) and park. Often they come in pairs, park side by side, or even pull up next to each other, driver’s window to driver’s window. Long lost buddies who saw each other and pulled over to catch up? A drug deal? A meeting in public arranged from a dating app? No idea. I’ve never noticed this phenomenon before, and it intrigues me. There are also a number of pick-up trucks, who pull in, turn off the engine and sit for up to an hour without getting out of the vehicle. Maybe they needed a nap. Maybe they are safely taking a phone call. I’m not sure I’ll ever know, but they all have piqued my curiosity.
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I drove about an hour and a half and ended up in an amazing spot just north of Taos, NM. It is called the John Dunn Bridge overlook. Actually, I stopped a mile short of my intended GPS coordinates: I was about to pass an amazing spot up on the highest hill and saw that my destination was just a mile away. I pulled into the spot, worked my way back and forth and got level without any leveling blocks, and since there was an incredible 360-degree view, I thought “Why drive down another mile of bad road into a valley?” The sky is just spectacular with big, billowy, white clouds. I made myself another salad and cooked up a pre-made meal courtesy of the deli at the grocery store I went to yesterday. (Do any of you have Smith’s near you? Seems like a pretty good chain.) It was spinach and ricotta ravioli in marinara sauce. I ate half with my salad for lunch and will enjoy the rest tomorrow.
Cosmo and I have taken several walks. Although I’m on the highest hill in the area, I’m surrounded by valley, and after that, mountains on all sides. Down in one valley are a few adobe homes, very square looking and all having solar panels covering most of their roofs. I saw a couple earth ship homes on the drive in as well as a few tiny homes. Taos is an interesting place.
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Boy did I screw up! I woke up with a start, and my adrenaline was pumping. Not sure why, but I suddenly realized I’d not checked my propane level for some time. I got out of bed and the guage had one light (out of 4). None of my meters are exactly accurate. They each have 4 lights—4 lit up means full, one light means somewhere below ¼ tank, but no way of knowing just how much below. It could be ¼ of a tank or empty or anywhere in between. I was planning on staying on my hillside for a few days, but knew I’d have to leave to get propane. Without it my food in the fridge would spoil quickly and I couldn’t cook or heat water. I went on-line and found two propane places, about half an hour away. I didn’t mind driving into town, filling up, and heading back. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way.
My GPS/Google maps have been a little screwy out in the boonies. Each place was about half an hour from where I was. I decided on one, and started down the long, rough, gravel road out. My internet connection was hit and miss. When I got to the highway, I followed directions. When I hit a stop light I looked, and it said I was now 45 minutes away! That was after a 15-minute drive already. I should have been halfway there. I pulled over and dug deeper. Road construction and a possible detour from the neighboring fires could be an issue. I checked and the other propane place was much closer. I went there. They were quick and efficient, and I was on my way within minutes with enough propane to last a month or so for only $13. I plugged in the coordinates that I had for my spot on the hill by the John Dunn Bridge. I was only half an hour away. I didn’t recognize any part of the road along the way, but figured I was coming in from a different direction. Indeed I was. I came in from the east and ended up at the bridge. I crossed it (as directed by GPS and parked next to the river. I’ve been saying for months that I can’t wait to be by water. Here I was at the Rio Grande.
Cosmo and I got in; me up to my knees, Cosmo until his belly touched. He kept “biting” the moving water and jumping and splashing. He seemed as happy to be out of the dirt as I was.
But there was no overnight parking permitted, so I had to figure out how to get back to my original spot. I knew it was only about a mile from the river, but it was on a cliff overlooking the river. I was surrounded by cliffs and was not sure which way I should go. Google Maps kept trying to take me up a long winding hill of switchbacks. That road was blocked off by cement barriers. I asked a local, and got directions like all locals give… “Go back over the bridge and up the hill a ways. After the bend, bear right, but don’t go completely right…” The directions went on and on and I knew they were not going to get me back to my spot. I went back out to the highway and took a left. After a mile or two, I pulled over and tried my GPS coordinates again. They took me down a long, winding dirt road for miles and I felt some hope, but eventually I saw the bridge again and Google was trying to take me back over the bridge and up the blocked road. I could find where I wanted to be on the map, but on my phone, I had to zoom in so far that I could not see where I actually was. After an hour or so, I gave up. I’d left at 10:00 a.m. After detours and changing propane stops, and then driving to the wrong side of the river, I was tired and hungry. I looked at one of my camping apps and found a Navajo Casino close by. My app said I could park overnight if I register with the security guard. I did. It was a let down from where I had been staying, but it was free and safe, and once settled, I pulled up some maps on my laptop and found how to get back to my “spot” on the hill. I left the next morning. The drive was easy, despite Google constantly reminding me “I found a shorter route. Would you like to switch? Press ‘No Thanks’ on your iPhone to keep on the current route.” The “shorter way” was certainly trying to take me back to the bridge down in the ravine. At any rate, I made it and as soon as I turned onto “my road,” in spite of the roads length and condition, I felt immediate relaxation in my shoulders, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. I drove slowly and pulled into “my spot.” I know it sounds silly, but there was such a sense of relief, at “being home.” I only spent about 24 hours in that spot a day prior, but it really did feel familiar, safe and comfortable. Cosmo and I got out and walked. It was blazing hot. The Weather Channel said it would only reach 86 in the afternoon, but somehow the New Mexico sun is unforgiving. It felt so oppressive. Perhaps the altitude and not being able to catch my breath was a part of it. Still, it was so nice to be home.
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I drove with my lights on yesterday (signs indicated “Lights on for safety for the next 20 miles.”) Usually, it’s not a problem because when I open the driver’s door, I get a tone indicating my lights are still on. But yesterday I pulled back into my spot up on the hill and drove forward and backward slowly until I got level. I got out of the driver’s seat to check my actual, analog levels (the kind with the bubble) after my digital one said I was within a quarter of an inch of perfect. I exited through the side door, after turning off the engine. Later that evening, the dust storm picked up and I went to turn on the van so I could roll the windows up. Nothing happened. I had forgotten to turn the lights off and the battery was dead. I have a small digital battery jumper. I charged it up this morning by solar and tried jumping my battery. It ALMOST turned over, but not quite. I saw a truck driving by and flagged them down. I asked if they had jumper cables and would they help me. The driver said ‘We do and we will, but it has to be quick. We’re running late for work.” They got out and I already had my hood open. I grabbed one end of the cables and connected them quickly, and one of the guys did the other end. It started right up. I thanked them profusely and handed the driver a $20 bill. He refused. I insisted. I told him how much I appreciated his kindness and I’d like to buy breakfast. He finally, sheepishly, took it and thanked me. My faith in human kindness had been restored.
I seem to be having a lot of “first world problems” lately. I’ve been spilling drinks (fortunately mostly water) too often. The first time it took out my laptop by spilling on the keyboard. My “leak” on the floor never re-appeared, so I suspect I must’ve accidentally spilled something on that spot on the rug. My iPad charger was on top of my solar generator while I was driving the other day. The road was so bumpy that it fell off into Cosmo’s water bowl. It is now non-functional. I’m not an astrologer, but if I were a betting man, I’d guess that Mars must be in Uranus. Or mine. On the bright side, this is where I’ve been living for most of this week:
We arrived in Colorado early on Friday afternoon. There are TREES and a RIVER. There is lush foliage. I’ve left (at least temporarily) “the Dirt States.” I got a real shower and did my laundry and then Cosmo and I took a walk to the river. It’s actually got rapids, so probably not a good idea for us to get in and see how we make out, but there was a small, rocky part by the shore and I at least dipped my feet in and Cosmo got a drink. In just driving an hour, the total landscape changed. I look out my back window and see this:
The park we stayed in was a member of Escapees, an RV club I joined because they will help me transfer my license and van tags over to South Dakota. As a member, I could get a night’s stay here for just $15, and that’s a bargain to shower, do laundry, top off my fresh water tank and dump my grey water (from washing dishes and showering in the van.) There were mostly old folks there, who I suspect live there long term. Many have coverings over their wheels, indicating they are not pulling out anytime soon. Some have outdoor screen porches with tables and chairs set up for dining or just hanging out in the evening. I am the only van on the property. The owner was nice and very accommodating. The grounds are lush and the Conejos river runs through it. It was a nice stop on our way north through Colorado.
Lessons from the Road: I’ve learned this week that I must pay attention to where I am and where I’m going. I have become so GPS oriented that I wander around mindlessly, taking voice commands from my cell phone—“In 600 feet, turn left…” I follow the commands and almost always end up where I’d planned. But sometimes my cell signal is lost and that means *I* am lost. I have no idea where I am and only the vaguest notion of where I was headed. I need to really look at the map before I go, and should Google Maps stop working, I would at least be able to rely on route numbers to sort of head in the right direction until such time as Google reappears.
I’m going to have to figure out some system for driving with my lights on during the day. Many stretches of the road require it by law, and I can understand why when I see someone in the distance (lights on) driving head on toward me in my lane, passing when they shouldn’t be. In my old Kia, the lights went off when I turned off the ignition. I drove with them on day and night, knowing when I stopped the engine, they would turn off. My van has a “ding” reminder to turn off the lights IF I exit through the driver’s door. More often than not, when stopping for supplies or settling in for the night, I climb back into my living space, get Cosmo and we exit through the side door. No “ding.” I did that when I settled into my spot north of Taos and by nightfall, when I tried to “roll up” my windows (Do we still say that when there is only a push button to make your windows go up and down?), the battery was dead. The dust storm blasted the van, and my windows were down. My battery jumper/charger was buried in the storage compartment of my van. I had to wait until morning to dig it out and it didn’t provide enough juice (even after being fully charged) to jump start my van. In the middle of the night, I could smell fire. I knew there were fires raging all around me, but not sure how far away or how fast they were spreading. It hit me that if I needed to evacuate in the middle of the night I couldn’t. That was a wakeup call. So at the very least I need to buy jumper cables. I know I will continue to exit through the side doors, so I also need to have some way of reminding myself to be sure my lights are off when I stop the van. Maybe a post-it note on the side door?