“All those who wander are not lost.”
~ J.R.R. Tolkien
I enjoyed my final few days in my perfect spot in Kaibab National Forest just south of The Grand Canyon. It was Labor Day Weekend and as a nomad, I dread the holiday crowds. There was more traffic than usual on the main forest road (gravel). I set up my tent across the tributary of that forest road, and put out my table and chair to make the site look “more occupied.” It did the trick. With my van, solar panels, tent, table and chairs, it looked like a small community was there. Only two people (that I saw) turned down that tributary of a road, and they saw my setup and turned around and went farther up the road. The weather was always cloudy or rainy, except for brief glimpses of the sun here and there throughout the week. That wreaked havoc with my solar power, but I managed to keep maneuvering and trying every trick I knew to consume less energy and to move my panels often throughout the day to catch every tiny ray of sun available.
I decided to leave on Tuesday and head south. It turned out to be a day from hell. I had chosen a new spot in the forest just north of Flagstaff. Having never been there, I read the reviews on several camping apps, and it looked promising. But in the past, I’ve been fooled and gotten to a place to find it shut down, or the roads impassable, so I found a backup spot just down the road from the first spot. I drove for about an hour in the rain to the first spot which was gated. A sign on the gate said to keep the gate closed at all times and something to the effect of “if you don’t close the gate behind you, you could be liable for prosecution.” I got out and saw that the gate was tied closed by barbed wire in three different places. I’ve come across gated roads before that still allow you to pass. They usually have some simple loop to put over the fencepost after you pass. This was quite different. It was clearly wired shut. I could have untangled the barbed wire in three different places, but not easily. And it seemed if someone went through this amount of trouble, they didn’t want you to pass. I turned back to the main road, followed it a few hundred feet and found another entrance. Same signage, same triple-bound fence. I started to untie the barbed wire, but then looked at the road beyond. They were severely rutted and already collecting water from the storm we were having. I decided to move on to my back-up plan and drove 5 miles to spot #2. It was a paved road up to a ski resort and I felt hopeful. After several miles I came to the forest road that supposedly had camping spots and found a sign saying “Closed until further notice.” The scene was out of a post-apocalyptic movie, with scorched, blackened trees against the dreary grey sky. It was the perfect spot to shoot a film about nuclear winter. I pulled into an opening and got out my phone to see how far I was from Flagstaff. I looked for other options, but Marshall Lake seemed to be my best choice, so I drove about 20 miles farther and got my favorite spot across from the lake. Many spots along the way were trashed, I assume from Labor Day Visigoths, but the lake was relatively unoccupied, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my preferred spot sitting empty. I pulled in, made lunch and settled in for the night. It was cold and drizzly and I watched a movie on my laptop until I fell asleep.
Wednesday, I got up, went to Walmart for some supplies, and got a veggie burrito from my favorite Mexican take-out in Flag. I drove to Two Guns in the rain and was held up by several traffic accidents but finally made it there shortly after noon. My friend Beth was already there in her RoadTrek. I pulled in next to her and she wanted to go over to the turret where I liked to stay but wasn’t sure how to get there. She followed me over and we set up camp.
We had some torrential rain (I think the Arizonans call them monsoons) which made for some wonderful photo opportunities.
The thunderstorms also cooled things down and made for excellent sleeping weather.
Lessons From The Road: I’ve thought a lot this week about what it means to be nomadic. Google tells me “a way of life or behavior characterized by moving from place to place, rather than having a permanent home or fixed settlement.” I certainly qualify under that definition. But nomadic life has certainly been different this year than in years past. I think I seem to have many “fixed settlements” along my journey. The first couple years I was more of an explorer. I went new places every time I moved, only seldom going back to places I liked. That has shifted, knowing what places might offer the best options for the season, I go to familiar spots. It is so much easier to be in a place where I don’t have to search for potable water, for propane, or for groceries because I know the best options for each. It has been comforting to know a few good spots at Ashurst Lake, Marshall Lake, Two Guns and Winslow. If I don’t get my favorite spot each time, then I take my second favorite spot or sometimes find a new favorite spot. In some ways I miss the adventure and the exploring, but I don’t miss the stress caused by not knowing where I’ll spend the night, or how I will find supplies once I get there.
I know nomads who have two spots; one for the winter and one for the summer. Perhaps one day I’ll be that settled down (but I doubt it). Even if I do, I can’t see myself giving up the nomadic life all together. I’m really enjoying the balance of traveling and exploring, without too many surprises along the way.