I’m spending my final night in Colorado. The longer I stay in Colorado, the less I like it. I stayed in a pleasant, but expensive campground last night. The camp host went out of his way to be kind and accommodating, but I found out, he was not from Colorado. I had a nice conversation in the morning with a man and his wife from Nevada. When I’d walk Cosmo, I’d smile, wave, and say hello as I passed anyone. I knew immediately if they were visitors or locals by the reaction. Colorado people don’t look at you, nor do they respond if you say hello. There is some sense of arrogance that comes across in their rudeness. I’m certain everyone in and from Colorado is not mean and arrogant, but I’ve not come across even one nice Coloradan in the week I’ve been here. And like I mentioned before, I always thought of Colorado as progressive, sophisticated. Not the part I’m in. It is a notch below redneck. I have had little choice but to pay for RV parks since Colorado has no BLM land on the eastern side. They do have state parks, but they are expensive to stay in, if you could ever manage to find an opening. They are booked up for months in advance. The RV parks I’ve stayed at (for the most part) are filled mostly with people who pay by the month. They live in 5th Wheels or pull-behind trailers. Think of the worst trailer park you’ve ever been in or seen in a movie, and then realize that they are luxurious in comparison to the RV parks I’ve found in eastern Colorado.
I’ve never seen so many bad tattoos and John Deere caps in my life. And American flags. I’m starting to feel that the more “low life” you are, the greater your need to fly an American flag and put up a lawn sign either supporting Trump or saying something foul about Biden. For me, seeing an American flag these days is like a warning. It is not a sign of patriotism, but more often of radical right-wing hatred. I don’t mind seeing one at the post office, but if I pull into an RV park and end up next to a run-down trailer flying an American Flag, it puts me on red alert.
I’d planned on staying at a truck stop on my last night in CO. I’d found one almost to the WY border and drove there only to encounter signs everywhere saying, “One Hour Customer Parking Only—Violators Towed at Owner’s Expense.” The boondocking apps said it was an OK place to stay for the night. Maybe the signs are recent. So, after driving there I parked and started to search for another option. Most states (reluctantly) allow you to stay at rest areas. I mean, really, if you are too tired to drive, are they only going to let you rest for an hour and then force you to get back on the road? That makes no sense. Many states’ rest areas say, “No camping” and as long as vans and RV’s are polite and respectful—no putting out lawn furniture and barbeques—they usually leave you alone. In Colorado, there is a two-hour limit. After that they can ticket and tow you. Usually, the truck stops, like Flying J, Travel America and Love’s, always allow if not outright invite truckers and RVs to stay overnight. It’s good for business. They have food, supplies (way overpriced supplies) and showers and they make a fortune off people spending the night. But in Colorado, none of them allow you to stay. I’m not sure if it is a state law, or just common policy to force us to stay in overpriced RV parks or rent motel rooms or support the outrageously priced state campgrounds. At any rate, I found one open space at an RV park about 15 minutes from the truck stop. I booked it online for $60. I drove there and pulled into a gravel “driveway.” The place was run down, dusty, and the dumpsters were overflowing. No one was in the office. It said you must make your reservation online. That has been common in Colorado—DIY registration. They want your money but they aren’t even willing to be there to take it. As always, I wave as I pass anyone in the park, and as is par for the course in Colorado, my smile is met with a scowl. Fuck Colorado. I’m out of here and I will add it to my list of “go around” states (States to “go around” instead of drive through.) I’ll not spend another nickel in this god-forsaken area.
W-Y-0-M-I-N-G-!
When I left Madison, WI in 1981, I headed with my then boyfriend, Tom, across the northern plains before landing in our new home in Los Angeles. We were in a 1967 Volvo that limped along reluctantly. I remember driving through Iowa, and South Dakota, and heading down through Wyoming. At that time Wyoming scared me. I can’t remember the name of the town where we stopped, but when we got out of the car, I felt like everyone on the street stopped in their tracks and stared at us. Were we that out of place? Did we look so strikingly different? The answer was “YES.” We were the only men in town not wearing tight Wranglers, cowboy boots, cowboy hats and a white t-shirt. It was like that old Sesame Street lesson “One of these things is not like the others.” We were that thing, not like the others. And to make matters worse, we’d go into a greasy spoon diner, and I’d ask about the vegetarian options (because there were absolutely NONE listed on the menu.) I’m surprised we made it out alive. And yet this morning as my GPS announced “Welcome to Wyoming” I let out a sigh of relief at being out of Colorado. I drove west on Route 80 with highway LED signs every few miles warning of “Winds Gusting to 40+ MPH.” It was tough driving in the wind, but the roads were good, and the traffic was light. It was only a half hour or so until I arrived at Medicine Bow National Forest. I stopped at the bulletin boards that are almost always at the entrance of any dispersed camping area and read the rules. “Camping in Designated Sites Only. One Vehicle per Site.” I can’t remember the number of acres, but the park is HUGE. As I stood and read the rules, a couple cars passed me as they came in. The drivers and passengers smiled and waved. I was home again. I drove about 5 miles into the park. The first few sites were occupied, but a short distance down the road I found one, and pulled in, but couldn’t get even close to level. I drove another mile and found an amazing spot. It was about 20 degrees cooler there in the park than it was when I left the outskirts of Denver that morning. There were huge rocks, pine trees and fresh air.
I had to laugh, because I spent much of the day Saturday on the phone with my friend Richard, who finally got all my computer issues resolved. He got me back online and got my Wi-Fi sorted out. I was back to normal on Sunday and spent the day watching YouTube, surfing the ‘net, and catching up on e-mails. It was so good to be back to normal. Then I move Monday to a place with no cell signal again. The spot was so beautiful that I didn’t even care. I knew I could move, probably up or down the road and find a bit of a signal. When Cosmo and I walked, I could get up on top of a big rock and send a text message. After spending a week at various campgrounds and RV parks where we were packed in like sardines, it was just so nice to be in the middle of nowhere, my nearest neighbor over a mile away up on a hill. I wondered if he had cell service. I didn’t care. I read for a while, made a big salad, and took a nap. The sun was warm, and the air was cool and everything seemed right with the world. It got windier and colder after sunset. I slept inside the sleeping bag for the first time in over a week. It was nice.
The next morning when I woke up, the sun was well above the horizon. It was 6:30 mountain time. I had slept long and hard. When we went out to pee, the air was still crisp even though the wind had died down. I realized it was summer solstice. I came in and settled back into bed with my coffee and noticed that I’d not gotten any e-mail. That meant no NY Times. No ANYTHING. I’d been saying for months that I need a new morning routine, so this forced it. I picked up a book and read for a bit, until I realized NO WORDLE. I must confess, I’m an addict. The stats on that page said I’ve not only done it over 100 consecutive days, but I’ve got a 100% success rate. I was not about to break my record. So after coffee, I drove further up the mountain, with my phone and Wi-Fi on the dashboard. I’d stop every few hundred yards to see if I had any signal. Suddenly I saw e-mails coming in on my phone. When I looked, I had two bars of Verizon cell service. The adjacent site was beautiful, but the parking area was very close to the road. So I kept driving for a few more miles. I got no signal after that and started to go down into a valley, so I turned around and went back to site 15A where I could easily send and receive text messages, e-mails and even connect to the internet (though the connection was quite slow). I pulled in and with great effort managed to get close to level. With the help of several leveling blocks, I got fully level and got my fridge lit (It still baffles me how I have to “light my fridge” in order for it to get cold, but I guess I’ll just have to do as the nuns in elementary school told me: “It’s a miracle. It can’t be explained, and you can never understand it. JUST TAKE IT ON FAITH.” I do.) We went for a long walk. Although the parking for the site is smallish and very close to the road, the site goes back into the woods for as far as I can see. There are large rocks, pine trees and the most amazing outcropping of various flowers—purple, yellow, pink, and white. I came in and found some fresh kale I bought at a Farmer’s market on Saturday. I decided it wouldn’t be “fresh kale” much longer, so I stir-fried it in some olive oil and garlic with fresh mushrooms and added some left-over rice. A sprinkle of parmesan and it was a breakfast fit for king. I sat on a big rock and ate, and drank the rest of my coffee, and marveled at what an amazing life this is when I stay away from cities and live in a forest. The Denver suburbs are a distant (and unpleasant) memory.
And by the way, I got connected enough to do Wordle, and I’m now up to 113 consecutive days, and still 100% successful in solving the puzzles.
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I am surprised how easily I go “back to normal” once I settle into BLM land. In this case I’m at Medicine Bow National Forest. I’m surrounded by beauty. My nearest neighbor is about a mile down the road. That’s a far cry from the RV parks in Colorado where my neighbor was about 10 feet from me. I feel so calm, so content, so connected to the earth. I need to remember when planning my route to not drive on roads or through states that don’t have beautiful places for me to stay.
The first photo is the last place I stayed in Colorado; The other one is the first place I stayed in Wyoming. I think the photos pretty much sum up my perspective on each state’s camping situation.
I took Cosmo for a walk in the morning, and it was gorgeous outside. I came in, got a second cup of coffee, grabbed a book, and went back out. I sat on a rock and read. Cosmo explored for a bit, and then came and settled between my legs and the rock. When he did so, he let out a big sigh. I laughed out loud. He too was feeling settled in and relieved to be there. After a while, we went back to the van and I made some vegetable stroganoff for lunch. While it cooked, I assembled a salad and sat and ate in my “dining room.” The back of my van has windows on all sides, so no matter where I sit, I can take in everything going on around me. The land is beautiful, the air cool, the sun warm. I finished lunch, read some more and then took a nap.
My last day at Medicine Bow, I kept trying to finalize my address in South Dakota. The company I was working with was recommended by a friend. It was like pulling teeth to get any information out of them. I’d stopped at a library in Colorado, printed out documents, had some of them notarized, and mailed them off. I didn’t hear back so I e-mailed them. The response was “you are missing a form.” I wrote again “Can you tell me which one?” They replied “1538.” I wrote again “I have a copy of that. It was notarized and mailed to you.” They replied “Yes, but there are TWO 1538 forms. You only sent one.” It went on like this for most of the day. I finally called and spoke to another person who said I needed to have another form signed and notarized. They suggested I do it online as it would go through immediately and I wouldn’t have to find a notary AND a post office and wait for the mail to get to TX. I didn’t have enough cell signal to do the online Notary. So, it was time to move. I knew where I was heading next—to Wheaton Reservoir in WY. I’d stayed there last summer and loved it, so I was heading back. I decided to get out of Medicine Bow National Forest, find a stop along the way where I had good cell service and get my document notarized and e-mailed to the company who would give me my South Dakota address. I found service at a rest area, got the paperwork completed and e-mailed it to TX. By the time I parked at Wheaton Reservoir, I had an e-mail saying “Congratulations! Here is your South Dakota address.” Now I just need to do the scavenger hunt and gather all the paperwork required of the DMV to change over my RV title, and my driver’s license and I can get that done. I won’t have to return to SD for 5 years.
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Wheaton Reservoir was different than I remembered. Actually, I saw that there are TWO reservoirs, so I may not have even gone to the same one as last year. The one I arrived at seemed much deeper than last year, so either it is a different one, or perhaps they’ve had more rain. Camping is permitted between the main “road” (a dirt loop around the water) and the water itself. Last year, the distance between road and water was several hundred yards. This year? Just a few feet. I drove around a bit trying to find a spot by the water, but not IN the water. I didn’t want to get stuck in mud or sand. The forecast was for rain, so I was especially cautious. My persistence paid off and I backed down a dirt trail and parked close to the water, but on very dry land. I’m closer to the road than I prefer to be, but everyone who drives by waves, and I feel safe and among kind people again.
Cosmo and I have already gone in the water twice. He loves it but is afraid to get in far enough to have to swim. I think I may need to teach him to swim in the 4 days we will spend here.
Our time at the reservoir has been so easy and peaceful. We walk several times a day, and often I just sit in a chair by the side of the van. Cosmo has a long rope/leash, so he can wander down to the water’s edge, or come sit by my chair. The sky is amazing, from sunup to sundown. The cloud formations are stunning, and sunrises and sunsets are a religious experience.
It’s so nice to be settled in with nothing much to do for a few days.
Lessons from the Road: I have learned this lesson over and over, but maybe this time it will stick: Stay away from cities and suburbs unless visiting friends. There is nothing there for me outside of a Walmart or grocery store, or if I have a tech emergency, a Best Buy. There is little BLM land and few National Forests near cities. Paid campgrounds are expensive and not that nice. RV parks are ridiculously expensive and extremely ugly. My lesson is to keep going. Find a forest, or BLM spot. It’s so worth the extra drive and makes me so much happier with my life.
It’s been just over a year since I started the nomadic life. Google reminds me each morning where I was and what I was doing by sending photos taken “On This Day…” They start off with photos taken one year ago and also include photos taken on this day 3, 5, sometimes 10 years ago. This day last year I had started out but was waiting for a tune-up appointment before I left DE. My building had been sold, so last year at this time I was camping at Killen’s Pond and staying with my friend Tracy while I waited for my mechanic appointment. I’ve been so many places. Now I’m back at one of my favorite places in Wyoming. I have this new game I play with myself. When I wake up, I try to remember where I am without looking out the window. It sounds like a simple game, but it’s actually not as easy as it sounds. After sleeping for 8 hours, I wake up and sometimes it takes me a few minutes to even realize I’m in my van! That’s the easy part…I’m in my van, but where is the van? Mostly if I think long enough, I remember, but sometimes I have to look outside and then I think “Oh yeah. Now I remember.” It’s quite strange to move so often and to have lived in hundreds of places over the past year!