tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27035834325020294432024-03-26T21:33:52.028-07:00Rolling Steel TentAl Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.comBlogger3597125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-91182279328128985762024-03-20T10:31:00.000-07:002024-03-20T10:31:00.911-07:00They ask me why / why I’m a hairy guy<p><span style="font-size: medium;">The original plan had been to let my hair grow until my birthday. But even though that’s only three weeks away, I couldn’t stand it any longer (in time or length of hair). So I decided the vernal equinox was an appropriate end date. It has sort of been my winter hair. Now back to the low-maintenance Daylight Saving Time look.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsfqzgHxY9WrIsjtpZtfSoBWtPXdKD1ZfUxjKnKlb86LqMFXHHRuWsv9MBChs-YHASw6ET5HHlTqpXBmEoYdeoN31EBltCDyxA5G1LMWAgZvRzb54D9yvPKLc10kuMmZzYNdldHQsm5ZhDVNFoJogQ18tr0oUNEQPqWrfLJdq0m3T1K5r4Q5UGWYAC9E/s777/ach1-s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsfqzgHxY9WrIsjtpZtfSoBWtPXdKD1ZfUxjKnKlb86LqMFXHHRuWsv9MBChs-YHASw6ET5HHlTqpXBmEoYdeoN31EBltCDyxA5G1LMWAgZvRzb54D9yvPKLc10kuMmZzYNdldHQsm5ZhDVNFoJogQ18tr0oUNEQPqWrfLJdq0m3T1K5r4Q5UGWYAC9E/s16000/ach1-s.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHG0loBNcEvjDwU-4z-7u7NHYZDdLruozeRLIY3n7dUjkr00VuYm1Z8BuruoTcnwO_2Cdbe7szHi-OkxqzfQsqnOigBVEW8qQjiSFCXMOiFU0Alba83u1P89o4wUkyGbv6WIrA_ShQk8XHUbDGSUWfVTpThw_mUYOofTTMpyvdGP4QsCW5WwfCtA9XeeQ/s789/ach3-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="789" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHG0loBNcEvjDwU-4z-7u7NHYZDdLruozeRLIY3n7dUjkr00VuYm1Z8BuruoTcnwO_2Cdbe7szHi-OkxqzfQsqnOigBVEW8qQjiSFCXMOiFU0Alba83u1P89o4wUkyGbv6WIrA_ShQk8XHUbDGSUWfVTpThw_mUYOofTTMpyvdGP4QsCW5WwfCtA9XeeQ/s16000/ach3-2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsDiGXZBt3XzEhwWmUO41oyovV_U4rGnoEscFp9pBfE0As_EPsLuQ9tygfWzNfE7hSrG9dhH1YwznqJ7AfSKTsg4jJKVVxghs-TdXQbSrh1LmMiO2yP_guePPneU3sXhseQQUKElbcRaGrt9enDePOkcaTHwgrAEYITegvhaRQJZduX_MBTmd_4NMv2g/s722/ach2-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="722" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsDiGXZBt3XzEhwWmUO41oyovV_U4rGnoEscFp9pBfE0As_EPsLuQ9tygfWzNfE7hSrG9dhH1YwznqJ7AfSKTsg4jJKVVxghs-TdXQbSrh1LmMiO2yP_guePPneU3sXhseQQUKElbcRaGrt9enDePOkcaTHwgrAEYITegvhaRQJZduX_MBTmd_4NMv2g/s16000/ach2-2.jpg" /></a></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-15107047554888361092024-03-17T21:20:00.000-07:002024-03-17T21:21:18.051-07:00Another desert spring day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2c1Ru8X1F2620nLsolPJHHGXORGYzrfff4mX6p4z4W1eSCWCTUBuwF_6RoHFjccGTtbqGh6BRC40DaxOKfokYXUVEpFE2utZxziy4v1sKuYNY60x_Tu5z-EdFBpjC9yx6QJmRaQGww25sPFLQ336hS9XB-TxcqG_Hebpk29He8TIPzosybX_6qgWEBs/s987/des3.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="987" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2c1Ru8X1F2620nLsolPJHHGXORGYzrfff4mX6p4z4W1eSCWCTUBuwF_6RoHFjccGTtbqGh6BRC40DaxOKfokYXUVEpFE2utZxziy4v1sKuYNY60x_Tu5z-EdFBpjC9yx6QJmRaQGww25sPFLQ336hS9XB-TxcqG_Hebpk29He8TIPzosybX_6qgWEBs/s16000/des3.jpg" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Several of my friends and family (some of them just a few hours’ drive away) are shoveling snow and slush. They have my condolences.</span></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-80284016152379901142024-03-16T08:38:00.000-07:002024-03-16T08:38:35.053-07:00What is it?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMsPgKMdqSubeCQb4sLkBDS9i61Jn1aJ6ZAC039yoMo_RMpJJgEJtIu20uga9gVwI0t4tUGIwkuS4SZhnAByY0rz6GAnAAEUoJx7zCfdALNUG7NK0BIPDJCLqhJ59P3U3ODsQXmfaEu1rXavRWrLfaYsFX3xBshd9GIRyUwrxkL7G0eeiA6vQb669AfM/s555/adapter1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMsPgKMdqSubeCQb4sLkBDS9i61Jn1aJ6ZAC039yoMo_RMpJJgEJtIu20uga9gVwI0t4tUGIwkuS4SZhnAByY0rz6GAnAAEUoJx7zCfdALNUG7NK0BIPDJCLqhJ59P3U3ODsQXmfaEu1rXavRWrLfaYsFX3xBshd9GIRyUwrxkL7G0eeiA6vQb669AfM/s16000/adapter1.jpg" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">If you have the correct answer you win… well, only the satisfaction of being right.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">So, my stove connects to a bulk propane tank via a hose, naturally. But unlike my past stoves, this one is intended for use only with bulk tanks. And the hose connects to the stove via a somewhat permanent fitting.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgzGOAN85oY9GNdkx5vnDCnJnmOa_GmJoAcwqCx7fhU1UyRzKguNQfGDBWKJx16RurYM8XmE7ZhVcZU6_0e1INBXZdQOHAzUHw8fBQXTlbYdohz-BfFRrHt196I_X9LcsTIpg53hyxtkXoLZT2iWLGEcO0d1NEKtyyX2uvuy0CD1NZi8DLmcuk4Ljzl4/s555/con1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgzGOAN85oY9GNdkx5vnDCnJnmOa_GmJoAcwqCx7fhU1UyRzKguNQfGDBWKJx16RurYM8XmE7ZhVcZU6_0e1INBXZdQOHAzUHw8fBQXTlbYdohz-BfFRrHt196I_X9LcsTIpg53hyxtkXoLZT2iWLGEcO0d1NEKtyyX2uvuy0CD1NZi8DLmcuk4Ljzl4/s16000/con1.jpg" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">That’s not an issue 99.9% of the time. But let’s say I haven’t paid much attention to my propane level and I run out at an inconvenient time. With my past stoves I could change to a hose with different connectors and use a small, easy-to-store green propane bottle until I could get the tank refilled. That’s not the case with this stove and this hose.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Fortunately, I’m not the only one in the propane user universe to have faced the same issue. There are enough of us for someone to manufacture the adapter pictured at the top of the story. Screw it into the end of the bulk tank hose, and <i>presto!</i> Not only is it a simple solution, it takes up way less space than an extra hose.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnEBl544DGmm2mb4Au3bwdNYTTozS2QYxFIm9uE7tdty3PN5SyN9CRU9RvsU8hRdUwEzMlf8YXK0cxcpGTCErX6-V7LKLvPok6vypHrcg1sjRiFiF4IQIj6ifqnqI5FfzHp2Qr7lF_nlX8oEyjKfn-yO-V6u1CnMH-5ivwmM-jIPOB4L9kGIMZhKaT1s/s555/con2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnEBl544DGmm2mb4Au3bwdNYTTozS2QYxFIm9uE7tdty3PN5SyN9CRU9RvsU8hRdUwEzMlf8YXK0cxcpGTCErX6-V7LKLvPok6vypHrcg1sjRiFiF4IQIj6ifqnqI5FfzHp2Qr7lF_nlX8oEyjKfn-yO-V6u1CnMH-5ivwmM-jIPOB4L9kGIMZhKaT1s/s16000/con2.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">The only hitch is that I didn’t get the adapter until after I had given away the three propane bottles I had. Oh well.</span></div></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-90401549156127090112024-03-15T19:34:00.000-07:002024-03-15T19:34:51.356-07:00What’s that sound?<p><span style="font-size: medium;">I woke up at about 2:45 to pee. When I got back in bed I heard a faint and irregular <i>pit… tik……pit it……tak… pit…</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">What was it? Where was it? Should I worry? A mouse nibbling on a bit of plastic perhaps? I sniffed. No mouse odor.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I held still, listening. It seemed to be at the back, by the floor. I turned on a light, moved some things around and… I saw nothing.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Then the sound stopped. Then it started again. <i><b>What was it?!?!</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I spent about fifteen minutes trying to find the source of the sound. Then it was more rapid and louder.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Oh. It was rain. That’s cool.</span></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-23543390165373783562024-03-14T09:10:00.000-07:002024-03-15T16:09:06.793-07:00Trapped by an invisible force<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p><i><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: medium;">Who has seen the wind?</span></i></p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p><i><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: medium;">Neither you nor I</span></i></p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p><i><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: medium;">But when semis tip over on I-10</span></i></p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p><i><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: medium;">The wind is blowing like a mother…</span></i></p></blockquote></blockquote><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My friend LaVonne is in Palm Springs before heading off on a cross-country trek. She flew in from Washington state last night to pick up a van from other friends. I hadn’t seen LaVonne in a few years and wanted to say hi/bye. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So yesterday I drove from Quartzsite (where I had been taking care of some business) to the camping area at the south entrance to Joshua Tree. Hey, wasn’t I here just last week?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">During the night the wind started blowing. Hard. Probably the hardest I’ve experienced in the Rolling Steel Tent. It got so bad I had to get up at about 2:45 AM to face the van more into the wind. Even then it was a bouncy ride all night.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">You can see I-10 from the campsite. The lights of vehicles passed both directions during the night. “Okay,” I thought, “It’s still not too windy to drive. At least not for the pros and the foolish.” </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">But when daylight came and I finally dragged my sleep-deprived self out of bed I saw traffic was now totally stopped. Semis lined up as far as I could see in the eastbound lanes, no vehicles passing in the westbound lanes. And the wind was still howling. I checked Google Maps and it showed the dreaded red line stretching about 5 miles in each direction from Chiriaco Summit. And patches of yellow all the way to Desert Center in the east and Indio in the west.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So I notified LaVonne I’m staying put at least for a few hours.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I suppose, if I really wanted to, I could take the longer route through the park to Highway 62 and down Morongo Valley to Palm Springs. Or through Box Canyon to Mecca then north to Indio and onward to Palm Springs without getting on the freeway. I’ll see how conditions change. The wind has lessened a wee bit in the past hour, so the original plan might be on once the backed up traffic clears.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Yay life on the road! Yay desert!</span></p><p><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: medium;"><i>UPDATE: News reports said one semi was blocking all eastbound lanes, and a second rig was partially blocking one of the westbound lanes. Driver injuries were minor. While returning to Quartzsite to pick up a package at my mail forwarder I passed the scene where crews were still working on the trailer that had been blocking westbound traffic. Eastbound was totally clear.</i></span></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-52835818350035246222024-03-12T11:57:00.000-07:002024-03-12T11:57:43.557-07:00Flower time is starting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBNxa-S3_WVWNS6pvKT4ngHCXmAqE_awXRNjMdpOQnZtd7wrgfAOjEraRdNY-x27Xc6Gt2ZuonkXb_4JeUQ2iP7mdQr5l_52xa4U917R92-sMlmMjKOwtM23_5VyafUCT_XWk1cBtfb_peMxUpeNz59ziNYE1fuZq29u7D-AIJsRxa3Q6yg2qPGx-2TQ/s555/flowers444-sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBNxa-S3_WVWNS6pvKT4ngHCXmAqE_awXRNjMdpOQnZtd7wrgfAOjEraRdNY-x27Xc6Gt2ZuonkXb_4JeUQ2iP7mdQr5l_52xa4U917R92-sMlmMjKOwtM23_5VyafUCT_XWk1cBtfb_peMxUpeNz59ziNYE1fuZq29u7D-AIJsRxa3Q6yg2qPGx-2TQ/s16000/flowers444-sm.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin3ZoAhK891FfmOqdrcQ5HWWkUs2DCGAmSZsh4uWs-ziVgeIcPuxvcu_1CCY35gU02G-l3EV5LeuWt-gOX5zh4hxWplgY87Ii8WxIJLWvUhe-HpVL5HTWxL2YbVjr_t1xlh0GnxH7LMVMX7DPCv5IJ91Ganand0SbdPThNCM8rQP2b0GEOscHSDEmi2OA/s636/grew4-sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin3ZoAhK891FfmOqdrcQ5HWWkUs2DCGAmSZsh4uWs-ziVgeIcPuxvcu_1CCY35gU02G-l3EV5LeuWt-gOX5zh4hxWplgY87Ii8WxIJLWvUhe-HpVL5HTWxL2YbVjr_t1xlh0GnxH7LMVMX7DPCv5IJ91Ganand0SbdPThNCM8rQP2b0GEOscHSDEmi2OA/s16000/grew4-sm.jpg" /></a></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-9194725290451405142024-03-09T12:13:00.000-08:002024-03-10T10:15:33.381-07:00Wrapping up another of those fine desert days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiollnQnYqtwL51BPlnPvVdZLPfYBcaKhOH4opK3FCTRPKtMlxqJzURXsBKWvKB_4kcV-Z3RLjlexPcDzd8mZY9QK1EW_F6Wqlq3vUByTgPYRW6ndVjduL5IvLgCePEQAQQnAnUUphXQefthr0R7ZCLPC6EQuRsXRzUMMyhWPxZAIzFE0pbEevXC7coZgI/s555/cv3v4t4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiollnQnYqtwL51BPlnPvVdZLPfYBcaKhOH4opK3FCTRPKtMlxqJzURXsBKWvKB_4kcV-Z3RLjlexPcDzd8mZY9QK1EW_F6Wqlq3vUByTgPYRW6ndVjduL5IvLgCePEQAQQnAnUUphXQefthr0R7ZCLPC6EQuRsXRzUMMyhWPxZAIzFE0pbEevXC7coZgI/s16000/cv3v4t4.jpg" /></a></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-69311523270267121572024-03-06T16:09:00.000-08:002024-03-06T16:09:41.607-08:00Crossing time zones: actual and virtual<p><span style="font-size: medium;">About, oh, nine years ago I was camped in Ehrenburg AZ with a group of fellow wanderers. We were putting together a pot luck Thanksgiving dinner and I had volunteered to supply mashed potatoes. I had everything planned out — except for one thing. My phone was my only clock and I wasn’t aware it was picking up its cell signal from across the Colorado river, in California, in the Pacific Time Zone. So I was an hour late with the spuds.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Since I would making the Arizona-to-California crossing again this week, I wanted to learn exactly where my Verizon phone would recognize my change of time zone. I kept checking the phone, checking the phone, checking the phone, and… Blip. It changed near the Arizona port of entry weigh station, which is about three miles from the state line. At least that was the result at that time, under those atmospheric conditions.</span></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-47056893774860556932024-03-06T15:44:00.000-08:002024-03-06T15:44:07.488-08:00My turn<p><span style="font-size: medium;">My nomad friend Roxy went to Joshua Tree National park a few weeks ago when it was still cold. She has greater tolerance of low temperatures, maybe even an affinity for it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My former coworker friend Jon, and his wife Katherine, made a pilgrimage to Joshua Tree and surrounding areas last month in honor of one of his favorite musicians, Gram Parsons. It will be their last visit for a while since they’re moving from Southern California to Tennessee to be near a grandchild. They stayed in the hotel Parsons frequented, so freezing nights were not an issue.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And my friend Melinda and her sister (whom I have never met) also spent time in Joshua Tree last month, also staying in a warm hotel like normal civilized people.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I go to Joshua Tree at least once a year, so it was on my list. And I had been itching to wander out of Yuma, where I spend most of the winter because it’s not cold. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I had been watching the forecasts for Joshua Tree, and nope. Until this week. While it was still freezing at night in the park, which is at 6,000 feet, it would be merely comfortably cool at the lower elevations outside the park’s boundaries. So off I went.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDeHIrMnAbjf4J-ICmR8tWLXMZprGkjC_uUGM8-fMJISxmjU_-LjmH4vJyVvfCdpoVDHnlL9REYRNwnBzMq5AZ9pM8Vdnk2E9xH82Mmk8rZYhq_UZcLX3CG5QbP3-JM7utREhWAuHjfMKDaw3EIM3SPeBR1POqai0uTvwy049Mv3jOMHCwodyhLCIuJE/s987/jt13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="987" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDeHIrMnAbjf4J-ICmR8tWLXMZprGkjC_uUGM8-fMJISxmjU_-LjmH4vJyVvfCdpoVDHnlL9REYRNwnBzMq5AZ9pM8Vdnk2E9xH82Mmk8rZYhq_UZcLX3CG5QbP3-JM7utREhWAuHjfMKDaw3EIM3SPeBR1POqai0uTvwy049Mv3jOMHCwodyhLCIuJE/s16000/jt13.jpg" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I like poking around in the rocks</span></i></div></i><p></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-58606652416058214072024-03-04T20:24:00.000-08:002024-03-04T20:24:03.690-08:00No hum<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Tonight I’m camped at a popular spot by the south entrance to Joshua Tree National Park. There are more than a dozen rigs here, most of them RVs. We’re closer together than I prefer, but that’s what the area is like. Hey, it’s free, it’s convenient, so…</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">However, one thing has surprised me: no generator noise. If anyone is using them they must be well muffled. Or my hearing has gotten very bad. Either way, it’s nice and quiet.</span></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-85798811638831471782024-03-02T16:13:00.000-08:002024-03-02T16:44:27.874-08:00Saturday morning at the butcher and car show<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Food City was out of pollo asado so I went to another latino-focused grocery, Del Sol. Both have excellent butcher departments. I could see into the back where seven butchers were breaking down bigger cuts for packaging. In front of them was a display of seasoned meats where along with chorizos, chicharrónes, and carnitas was plenty of pollo asado.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">There were a couple of men ahead of me in line. One had ordered a stack of steaks about a foot high. Big barbecue this weekend, I suppose. He left with his mountain of meat, but shortly after the butcher who had been helping him hefted another pile of steaks onto the counter. The butcher looked around, obviously wondering where the customer had gone.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Meanwhile, another butcher filled my pollo asado order. The missing meat customer was at the self-checkout when I got there. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">“Hey, I think you left the rest of your meat order,” I said.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">“Nah, I got it all. Just 15 pounds.”</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">“Okay. Have a good day then.”</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I left wondering if the guy would be back after getting home and counting his steaks.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Out in the parking lot, a man was getting out of a Nissan Rogue in a glorious metallic burnt orange color, the morning sun making it glow. Such a refreshing break from the mass of white, silver and black vehicles. Nissan calls the color Sunset Drift ChromaFlair®.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbOlZmdKlE3rH997qq-mR-WWCvceikzEEHNDTmyVe-F06hDbFy6SAiPMM717ln3f-TAR4mNND7Ci4mnaanJGl2rX0VxG00NdUhyphenhyphenNTHlbGBYbOyLQviD6DSK0sYa7B9puqaAFyYEb884gpQPHa3GV_1PIau7GNQHv-nEB28nyvO1f1r9bpOLmYIPu2mnM/s555/rogue.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbOlZmdKlE3rH997qq-mR-WWCvceikzEEHNDTmyVe-F06hDbFy6SAiPMM717ln3f-TAR4mNND7Ci4mnaanJGl2rX0VxG00NdUhyphenhyphenNTHlbGBYbOyLQviD6DSK0sYa7B9puqaAFyYEb884gpQPHa3GV_1PIau7GNQHv-nEB28nyvO1f1r9bpOLmYIPu2mnM/s16000/rogue.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Much brighter in person</i></div></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I said, “I really like the color of your car.”</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">He nodded his thanks but didn’t seem as enthused about the color. Or he thought I was a weirdo who should be avoided. But a dude farther along heartily agreed with my positive assessment of his lowered step-side GMC pickup. He might have talked about it all morning if it hadn’t been for his esposa pulling him to the store. Maybe they also needed a pile of meat.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So, as a very late lunch/early dinner I cooked up some of the pollo and made a burrito. It was perfect. It made me as happy as the orange car.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkv8YrpIXl1iUxCgXotcQKbgU0Z9IXCFjpG5hyphenhyphenz_Hj7n1lULuRayIYWUiKHTaxIaR1XV-oxZUNu0BtfWpQh8l_YuZVsk6S9TnuleQj4N_2ol0qtbvn9EfV09ZlOtAkzktSpYFa5c_8mPZyrZhpJ_JcvLkbwpSrdYw3RAIJDZ2Mtj9CkuuCrsSdSKd8mE/s555/asado2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkv8YrpIXl1iUxCgXotcQKbgU0Z9IXCFjpG5hyphenhyphenz_Hj7n1lULuRayIYWUiKHTaxIaR1XV-oxZUNu0BtfWpQh8l_YuZVsk6S9TnuleQj4N_2ol0qtbvn9EfV09ZlOtAkzktSpYFa5c_8mPZyrZhpJ_JcvLkbwpSrdYw3RAIJDZ2Mtj9CkuuCrsSdSKd8mE/s16000/asado2.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Enough left for two more meals. The marinade is almost the color of the Nissan.</i></div></span>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-80308202006131129502024-03-01T11:30:00.000-08:002024-03-01T11:30:46.393-08:00Version update<p>The 013 version of the Rolling Steel Tent has served well, but the latest system upgrades — engine, transmission, solar capacity, interior fittings — call for a new version designation.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPXlNDPe72nMbFucNyjjW3uAtRgI7Wud4H8WQvPTShRt6dHq1kr6ad5yJO-soKZwMG-Ky9IOovZUBLVhN9rtnZXqoCPmY1OXQeSZPUVj5BIteVRvW1edrtetWbqt6Ajtj5J2njKg_PyN-bpJ_1JEmRqUu1hUMKBxJDXLoXYxrgeGSLTwf2Xfh_uwRSss/s555/013-5.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="322" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPXlNDPe72nMbFucNyjjW3uAtRgI7Wud4H8WQvPTShRt6dHq1kr6ad5yJO-soKZwMG-Ky9IOovZUBLVhN9rtnZXqoCPmY1OXQeSZPUVj5BIteVRvW1edrtetWbqt6Ajtj5J2njKg_PyN-bpJ_1JEmRqUu1hUMKBxJDXLoXYxrgeGSLTwf2Xfh_uwRSss/s16000/013-5.jpg" /></a></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-46406098382900169162024-02-29T10:44:00.000-08:002024-02-29T10:49:15.152-08:00Lost and found and found<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Three things went missing the past few months. My passport, the van registration, and a fork.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Whenever this happens I’m still amazed how things can disappear in such a small space. There are only so many places a thing can be in the Rolling Steel Tent. That gets me wondering if the errant objects left the van somehow.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Also, as always, I find things when I’m not looking for them. After all, checking the most likely places is pointless when something is obviously in an unlikely place.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I found the fork while rotating my mattress head-to-toe (something I do about twice a year). The fork was wedged at the junction of the mattress, the bed platform, and the cabinet from which it had slid at some point.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Va5o8mK4mY5q1BWQroEQ4PI0eTTy21aycpUB3XwAVatLX_OUeuhW3aMmfbmR1x-W4GmXFRdN87ig301t6fLdnuUSHQrCVg7CDR4HKS5svyEjB413p1pHwEe0UkqrwoIRtW4Ta64S9Z8J3zEW8hJGF2SYBH69VaqbsqlMQRzIPnoSfd-yivfy7zETf-4/s555/bedgap2sm.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Va5o8mK4mY5q1BWQroEQ4PI0eTTy21aycpUB3XwAVatLX_OUeuhW3aMmfbmR1x-W4GmXFRdN87ig301t6fLdnuUSHQrCVg7CDR4HKS5svyEjB413p1pHwEe0UkqrwoIRtW4Ta64S9Z8J3zEW8hJGF2SYBH69VaqbsqlMQRzIPnoSfd-yivfy7zETf-4/s16000/bedgap2sm.png" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The passport was a more troubling matter. I have a passport card as well, so I’ve been able to return to the US after my visits to Mexico, but still… It’s best not to have one’s passport traveling the world with someone else.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">I remembered the last time I had used the passport. Afterward I had placed it in a box where I toss my wallet and key. But the box is dangerously close to the Gap of Doom. If it had fallen in there (despite the chunk of foam blocking most of the gap) retrieving it would mean a ton of disassembly and reassembly of the cabinet — or using one of those snaky cameras and a grabber thing.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQxO6HMyvLKqYANdNwkII-ZYRfMMKFh52FuALfGhn0h-_XcBSkEyYPubHLejgyinOfna0YadYIqvmjI5musSRit3gR8-2O1BQYmoIhnDmLB1KEEaDsmy_tOP57Ebcft-Ont4BY1nHzRCPGdXbmUrfj_XZ2iVRz1hoj__KCHF3vSfAGFg9rew67kLm1OY/s555/gapofdoom2sm.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQxO6HMyvLKqYANdNwkII-ZYRfMMKFh52FuALfGhn0h-_XcBSkEyYPubHLejgyinOfna0YadYIqvmjI5musSRit3gR8-2O1BQYmoIhnDmLB1KEEaDsmy_tOP57Ebcft-Ont4BY1nHzRCPGdXbmUrfj_XZ2iVRz1hoj__KCHF3vSfAGFg9rew67kLm1OY/s16000/gapofdoom2sm.png" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">But yesterday, while fiddling with the liner in my silverware drawer, there was the passport, way at the back, behind a Tupperware container. What the…?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">As for the registration, I know I had it when I was pulled over for speeding in a school zone. (It was the first day of school at a time that was still summer to me: August 1. The sheriff’s deputy let me go with a caution.) Since then I had believed it was in the glove box with my proof of insurance. Well, beliefs are not facts. Was it in the door pocket? No. In the owner’s manual folder in the door pocket? No. Stuck between the map of the Big Horn Mountains and the paperwork for the engine replacement and my last two tire purchases? No. Those were likely places, therefore wrong.</span></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWIRHCpOcx7kNHOockmZ9S24DgWJqiQvd8vTG9sqywGSUWXaH3SC8qy4mp0uxrcyxVbyXUPT_VH4zFjRubLj-VunJMeXW98IyJDgQBf9XFIikFW7jRjUsvJEPMHbO3UpXN_tGZ2yRkOK2WBaaGuAHiaAbR1BpoJ_vxP7E5kjkpyACI_XXsVee5EiQBBw/s555/glovebox2sm.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWIRHCpOcx7kNHOockmZ9S24DgWJqiQvd8vTG9sqywGSUWXaH3SC8qy4mp0uxrcyxVbyXUPT_VH4zFjRubLj-VunJMeXW98IyJDgQBf9XFIikFW7jRjUsvJEPMHbO3UpXN_tGZ2yRkOK2WBaaGuAHiaAbR1BpoJ_vxP7E5kjkpyACI_XXsVee5EiQBBw/s16000/glovebox2sm.png" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkWHT8uDXrGQUBb5HGs7eoKdPBLygvmHwuL4pI0GLVNBVlsL0rEFnRVRMlQZPweIuNCpPT49SSHEGPASZEY89a9DlomZvr-d0o_TIxrRkc3HWM0vjcdj3lpK6pwA9f4ibRTGxY0CN1y2AjfpFc-ji-i2Lk8x3Ox0kfTs0m-OIBgSmHJQ-ptwgxc7-j9Ps/s555/doorpocket2sm.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkWHT8uDXrGQUBb5HGs7eoKdPBLygvmHwuL4pI0GLVNBVlsL0rEFnRVRMlQZPweIuNCpPT49SSHEGPASZEY89a9DlomZvr-d0o_TIxrRkc3HWM0vjcdj3lpK6pwA9f4ibRTGxY0CN1y2AjfpFc-ji-i2Lk8x3Ox0kfTs0m-OIBgSmHJQ-ptwgxc7-j9Ps/s16000/doorpocket2sm.png" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Had I accidentally tossed it with some of the irrelevant and expired crap in the glove box. Maybe. Probably.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">So my choices are to do the bureaucratic hokey-pokey with New Mexico Motor Vehicles or to drive flawlessly until next year’s registration comes. Or I can count on stumbling upon it while not looking for it.</span></div></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-82538923283446619432024-02-28T09:03:00.000-08:002024-02-28T09:03:47.362-08:00How will new National Monuments in the desert affect boondocking?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW963WmCv6g6pI0z2KDoXgAOr7GVLAu1SzWAzs-Z9mM5S0pyRJdEyGu2z2p5mbTQkXxtrtj54R2njG3tmByFzc8dt3ew_Ev9mp7M1KzlVQcTGQxMKRKpNj7Uco6joKHtWkzo0rLVJ-uX2PGPcJrmvu3Gx30aJLEplfNw3yjwWsotB1ow0KuKSzALRvtVk/s555/chuckwalla1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="291" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW963WmCv6g6pI0z2KDoXgAOr7GVLAu1SzWAzs-Z9mM5S0pyRJdEyGu2z2p5mbTQkXxtrtj54R2njG3tmByFzc8dt3ew_Ev9mp7M1KzlVQcTGQxMKRKpNj7Uco6joKHtWkzo0rLVJ-uX2PGPcJrmvu3Gx30aJLEplfNw3yjwWsotB1ow0KuKSzALRvtVk/s16000/chuckwalla1.png" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Chuckwalla National Monument</i></div></span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Two new National Monuments are in the works in the deserts of California and possibly Arizona. The Chuckwalla National Monument between Joshua Tree National Park and the Salton Sea is in its final stages of implementation. The Quechan Nation and other interested parties are seeking National Monument status for part of their historical tribal lands along the southern end of the Colorado river. Both of these areas currently contain — or could contain, depending on final boundaries — popular boondocking areas.</span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsA0_6TD1tgj-G4FrhlE-CHiV63eQtADHW-LJa-qW_QICiLkiv3Kup8pYxZWfx09ZYQXvL22bFhyO1tZ8drchuMz2Zw8aer1bYiEpQ5FVjpKzvvI4i6qh0JszQQx1W6S5n_Ait-mGua0kOuBk9bfWg93a7cOimuJLWloT-TgnxduI7w4KgYuUzwANCls/s555/chuckwalla.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="430" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsA0_6TD1tgj-G4FrhlE-CHiV63eQtADHW-LJa-qW_QICiLkiv3Kup8pYxZWfx09ZYQXvL22bFhyO1tZ8drchuMz2Zw8aer1bYiEpQ5FVjpKzvvI4i6qh0JszQQx1W6S5n_Ait-mGua0kOuBk9bfWg93a7cOimuJLWloT-TgnxduI7w4KgYuUzwANCls/s16000/chuckwalla.png" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Chuckwalla National Monument begins at the southern boundary of Joshua Tree National Park. That area is a favorite spot for folks visiting the park. I’ve stayed there six or seven times. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqI4lwWkaaJe07Lyv2ASQKIvAEnvULKUbzTxd02R7DVSdeoVeoHRRVyvLYYtg-rB8fD5FjONMaoYOkhKbCpVBcgDxMCfTjzcavZ7mX8y-k-qgFu_o7P5kvz2qYzCHAlrI3p4XOpF0yyKA4LD_uRXT_p6hY742tnrrDxa07TnuS0YksMNDjJxHhQYi-ZQw/s555/jts_12w.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqI4lwWkaaJe07Lyv2ASQKIvAEnvULKUbzTxd02R7DVSdeoVeoHRRVyvLYYtg-rB8fD5FjONMaoYOkhKbCpVBcgDxMCfTjzcavZ7mX8y-k-qgFu_o7P5kvz2qYzCHAlrI3p4XOpF0yyKA4LD_uRXT_p6hY742tnrrDxa07TnuS0YksMNDjJxHhQYi-ZQw/s16000/jts_12w.png" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>BLM camping outside Joshua Tree NP</i></span></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The boundaries for the proposed Kw'tsán National Monument haven’t been established beyond mention of the Picacho Peak Wilderness and Indian Pass. The Quechan Nation says: </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: medium;">The Kw’tsán National Monument will provide permanent protection for our homelands, cultural objects, and sacred places that are increasingly threatened by mining exploration, natural resource extraction, harmful development, unregulated recreational use, management inadequacies, and climate change.</span></div></div></blockquote><div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YGk6xo8XkvYzXdHLMyQYBdKNoV2iz-Rb6rFGTyuC_j242XCuKdduyoCIJ40JVQzidmBKG5c_9GmWQgMLBnY9n92gB-njoF9o2G9mLojzQAgqOn47yPvgM-Jbl1H8ij_7t5NnOF6eRZLR6gC57RvfgNFC3-vZQjt0SHo_TT-ZnMIaUFIBpJ1CSnKXpxs/s555/picacho1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YGk6xo8XkvYzXdHLMyQYBdKNoV2iz-Rb6rFGTyuC_j242XCuKdduyoCIJ40JVQzidmBKG5c_9GmWQgMLBnY9n92gB-njoF9o2G9mLojzQAgqOn47yPvgM-Jbl1H8ij_7t5NnOF6eRZLR6gC57RvfgNFC3-vZQjt0SHo_TT-ZnMIaUFIBpJ1CSnKXpxs/s16000/picacho1.png" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Picacho Peak</span></i></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">No doubt they would like as much area as possible protected by a National Monument. Might that area include where I’m camped right now, off Ogilby Road near American Girl Mine? And what about the areas adjacent to the Colorado River and Imperial Dam, like Senator Wash and the LTVA? It’s too early to say, but I suspect the Quechan are most interested in the mountains and not so much the flat lands at their base. I’m guessing the “unregulated recreational use” is about off-roaders. We’ll see.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">[In case you were wondering, the correct pronunciation of Quechan (a spelling imposed on the tribe) is like Kwatsaan. Hence Kw’tsán.]</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzAMvaYwCHmeICHRYK71MnzxtaubqJYFHShopJZ_XfFc0CCpnwC3h8HUfsO4BBk9D-dlPU95dDNFZW1FXKK5pq-Hcp_CDPo3talweWlzAYZkb7nIiFYwn9BatDRVe2ebfGtChNLNxz4ox-EPycD1Mt7XleOUOfR1zldPE9T4oLsFlFtkSHrP0Izf34gU/s555/picacho2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzAMvaYwCHmeICHRYK71MnzxtaubqJYFHShopJZ_XfFc0CCpnwC3h8HUfsO4BBk9D-dlPU95dDNFZW1FXKK5pq-Hcp_CDPo3talweWlzAYZkb7nIiFYwn9BatDRVe2ebfGtChNLNxz4ox-EPycD1Mt7XleOUOfR1zldPE9T4oLsFlFtkSHrP0Izf34gU/s16000/picacho2.png" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Picacho Wilderness Area</span></i></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">But what boondocking restrictions might come with National Monument status? Well, dispersed camping, or sometimes camping in designated spots, is allowed in National Monuments. But it’s common to restrict motorized access in some areas — usually closing primitive two-track trails and virgin areas. Biologically sensitive and archeologically significant areas are also placed off limits. And some closures might be seasonal to accommodate wildlife migration and nesting. I’ve camped in National Monuments with these limitations before and it wasn’t inconvenient at all, because I’m not the type to rip around in a 4x4, destroy resources, harass wildlife and plunder artifacts.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">However, as part of the Kw’tsán proposal, the tribe would be able to set additional land use restrictions. Again, we’ll have to wait and see what happens.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXE3eQ3xXGg5O9dVdlmbPytL11ckLBUlAOnyW0GVCHR2wnmtlKahjBCkc-0B9Z_BL0mD_oP1dllPM8sAcYgEbrK9-Ud1P9ttPmpDLoJwAtJ_NMW5TuuMsKKaZ5EKjvc-5_zNV7hbpDWVShOs8KB2H4ySKDGXcqKF8dCsGCmkZww4U21fBlSzlye-erMk/s555/amgm17.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="235" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXE3eQ3xXGg5O9dVdlmbPytL11ckLBUlAOnyW0GVCHR2wnmtlKahjBCkc-0B9Z_BL0mD_oP1dllPM8sAcYgEbrK9-Ud1P9ttPmpDLoJwAtJ_NMW5TuuMsKKaZ5EKjvc-5_zNV7hbpDWVShOs8KB2H4ySKDGXcqKF8dCsGCmkZww4U21fBlSzlye-erMk/s16000/amgm17.png" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Near Kw’tsán National Monument, or in it?</span></i></div></i></div></div></div></div></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-11263104821660811122024-02-27T17:57:00.000-08:002024-02-27T17:57:07.553-08:00Who says there are no trees in the desert?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3FqbISyckjcLTzKIxJTreM9wrdmpkpfVUluEL5ldY402l_IRFozBPjwvEqkKj36PrPt9zv5eAHTlgGk_s6u1lYaHsWb5wcbwIyyc2MzxywzIA8iLRY5D7LKhvB5Dybdl-DwQBV0TsnS8q1jhTOhW85nYBPfg66FG-59fwFDUGWdq1-2JIp_L1GvLXlY/s555/feb27ss-C.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3FqbISyckjcLTzKIxJTreM9wrdmpkpfVUluEL5ldY402l_IRFozBPjwvEqkKj36PrPt9zv5eAHTlgGk_s6u1lYaHsWb5wcbwIyyc2MzxywzIA8iLRY5D7LKhvB5Dybdl-DwQBV0TsnS8q1jhTOhW85nYBPfg66FG-59fwFDUGWdq1-2JIp_L1GvLXlY/s16000/feb27ss-C.png" /></a></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-26926872030742384812024-02-26T14:34:00.000-08:002024-02-26T14:34:41.955-08:00That’s not my job<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Bob Wells asked me to proofread/edit the manuscript for his next book. It’s a collection of his blog posts. Sure, I could do that (although my various teachers, if still alive, would be shocked I had learned how to spell, punctuate, and write coherent sentences).</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Bob and I share views on about 85% of things. While reading the manuscript I’d get to one of the issues where we disagree (greatly or slightly) and I’d have the urge to insert my counter argument. But that’s not what I’m there for.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">This experience has given me new appreciation for professional editors. They must work on many books they think are complete garbage. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I did suggest some changes to make the book a better reading experience, and Bob was all for it. Now if only I could fix the 15% of things I believe he’s wrong about. Because I’m <i>always</i> right. Right? No? Aw, come on. At least 95% right. What? Not even 50%?</span></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-66490474797689009952024-02-24T10:08:00.000-08:002024-02-25T15:13:51.754-08:00Sometimes leaving more than footprints works out<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQuShsa5q-_FSCM29NFK03kdzvCvVFAG2z7U6UGZjpQCMGowGQTkBcbeJ3Mji5jpqiqKJefQrLUKmDm-Xgv_WCfA-lLXwOpKWsbqVjU1kmIP0YlTjv0OGxTO92zmap9ktw6OSPycHtD0fKhXoAkQjCV8L1we4gLkoic2xrScH7mswKefcS6ZWHuVVOlA/s555/ruts1.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="482" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQuShsa5q-_FSCM29NFK03kdzvCvVFAG2z7U6UGZjpQCMGowGQTkBcbeJ3Mji5jpqiqKJefQrLUKmDm-Xgv_WCfA-lLXwOpKWsbqVjU1kmIP0YlTjv0OGxTO92zmap9ktw6OSPycHtD0fKhXoAkQjCV8L1we4gLkoic2xrScH7mswKefcS6ZWHuVVOlA/s16000/ruts1.png" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">“No, see,” said some guy who was here before me, “Those aren’t ruts from thoughtlessly driving onto soft ground. They’re, um, water catchment troughs. A place for vegetation to take hold, enriching the environment and benefiting the circle of life. Yeah, that’s it.”</span><p></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-14384893434361429202024-02-21T17:55:00.000-08:002024-02-21T17:55:30.359-08:00Later that day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZsZaUiUHRo0n1Gzogaed8Iw4k1-A4zIubhyjJfVyHEyjLsWl04OORNa__gJUTNuwiKQMeSv0H8tPpfvKnabXs2qq5db2_TkW4DPf5e4hOUzVTxcnpaC5mcLWuZ-1MgdexmByUuTU7aGLNOwsbHS3CXSdG5hhetFJJmqnEKKvMXjBlZtZK9myCEvk62s/s824/ewfefe5t-sm.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZsZaUiUHRo0n1Gzogaed8Iw4k1-A4zIubhyjJfVyHEyjLsWl04OORNa__gJUTNuwiKQMeSv0H8tPpfvKnabXs2qq5db2_TkW4DPf5e4hOUzVTxcnpaC5mcLWuZ-1MgdexmByUuTU7aGLNOwsbHS3CXSdG5hhetFJJmqnEKKvMXjBlZtZK9myCEvk62s/s16000/ewfefe5t-sm.png" /></a></div><p></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-4827059759167965382024-02-21T10:56:00.000-08:002024-02-21T10:56:54.113-08:00Sufficiently solitary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvkbrabI2ACCCfpDd6gi_WKduggzHa92JxSllxJ8Zz4WM_xrVHep4b9MqvzM0BecE5roRQvhvcYgfUHa_kKvFmmhLzC02EL7-2GxXfE0FMI3h1XilaebDgh5e0CiI446xZ0I4mqrjmL1mkmoEJ5TwkKoV6Nh3o6fM0vWQd6Nma5TDL1nLLztrm2rS-n0/s555/vekol2b.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvkbrabI2ACCCfpDd6gi_WKduggzHa92JxSllxJ8Zz4WM_xrVHep4b9MqvzM0BecE5roRQvhvcYgfUHa_kKvFmmhLzC02EL7-2GxXfE0FMI3h1XilaebDgh5e0CiI446xZ0I4mqrjmL1mkmoEJ5TwkKoV6Nh3o6fM0vWQd6Nma5TDL1nLLztrm2rS-n0/s16000/vekol2b.png" /></a></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-7885898513621753752024-02-19T15:12:00.000-08:002024-02-19T15:14:08.998-08:00The roads not previously taken<p><span style="font-size: medium;">The standard way to get from I-10 to I-8 when you’re west of Phoenix is to take Highway 65 from Buckeye to Gila Bend. But I’ve driven it more than a dozen times and wanted to do something different. Besides, even though that route is familiar it seems to get longer every time.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Parker-to-Interstate 10 route had worked well, so what did Google Maps have to offer for the next leg? This:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWEHIpuU5BRF50MLFVmTYvzFYCK8ssazgIFuE_hR7qsv-f97BG1gnbJPS69arJTawHkOhLc3Kv-D85YqObFSC0OlKRLxvdB0ucShVW6JcY0ho_46kv9VpR0yFEfKmSj4pmaET5_5BEdHDOPwSTmioYY3vX1tVncMPgCabJPlWpPeUW1Lk6vI6QCPI6p4/s555/new-route.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWEHIpuU5BRF50MLFVmTYvzFYCK8ssazgIFuE_hR7qsv-f97BG1gnbJPS69arJTawHkOhLc3Kv-D85YqObFSC0OlKRLxvdB0ucShVW6JcY0ho_46kv9VpR0yFEfKmSj4pmaET5_5BEdHDOPwSTmioYY3vX1tVncMPgCabJPlWpPeUW1Lk6vI6QCPI6p4/s16000/new-route.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It’s sort of taking the squiggly hypotenuse of the triangle rather than the adjacent two sides. Slightly shorter and slightly slower. That’s cool. More leisurely, fewer semis and other large vehicles (or any type of vehicle) and some new territory to see.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The big surprise was the amount of farming along the way. The Gila River runs through there. It’s usually dry (at least at the surface) when I’m in the area, but the recent storms have it looking like and actual river instead of a large dry wash.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As a bonus, it’s perfect weather for driving with the window open. And 50 to 60 miles per hour makes that much more enjoyable than 70 to 80.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I’ll spend a few days in my current boondocking east of Gila Bend before backtracking to visit friends in Why. The Gila Bend-to-Why journey also seems longer each time, and there’s no shorter way there. Oh well.</span></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-2652547436883438392024-02-17T07:56:00.000-08:002024-02-17T07:56:17.332-08:00Enough for one day<div><span style="font-size: medium;">Continuing with yesterday’s story: By the time my leisurely cattle-aware drive got me to I-10 I realized I didn’t really want to drive all the way to Ajo that day. There was no schedule to keep, no rush to get there. Slow down, man. Put in fewer miles and more time just being. Yeah, sounds good.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">But where to stop? Someplace with plenty of cell reception and no off-roaders. And free, of course. How about Saddle Mountain, by Tonopah </span>(a. k. a. the <i>other</i> Tonopah, not the Tonopah of “I’ve been from Tucson to Tucumcari, Tehachapi to Tonopah” in Nevada, the location of the Clown Motel)<span style="font-size: medium;">? I hadn’t stopped there in, oh, eight years. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Would my opinion be different now?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes. Winter storms have greened the place up. I found a more pleasing camping spot. And my perceptions — and I — have probably changed. I’ll set here a spell.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimbMqoBj-HxNk4EK_9fqI91zZlO0RotCsc3FuBlolAb-X4fxNz6U_dHG9KUJ178Y1nJgY70wC1M47ivMsqTBX3J8X9jHVp53prmOJvPPqHNx1ZvmLEDO7lEWCRZ7MWXophlFMf5PSen_V8oNhW_roZhWSDiO4zLX1YxhMB3TanJ5hf4BeZtfyizgvDzQc/s555/sdl2a.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimbMqoBj-HxNk4EK_9fqI91zZlO0RotCsc3FuBlolAb-X4fxNz6U_dHG9KUJ178Y1nJgY70wC1M47ivMsqTBX3J8X9jHVp53prmOJvPPqHNx1ZvmLEDO7lEWCRZ7MWXophlFMf5PSen_V8oNhW_roZhWSDiO4zLX1YxhMB3TanJ5hf4BeZtfyizgvDzQc/s16000/sdl2a.png" /></a></div></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-56481248701745080232024-02-16T16:08:00.000-08:002024-02-16T16:08:08.865-08:00Where’s the beef?<p><span style="font-size: medium;">After my Walmart adventure in Parker I found pretty good boondocking spot south of town along Shea Road. But after a while two things made me decide to leave in the morning. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The first was the realization it was the beginning of Presidents’ Day weekend. Off-road vehicles were buzzing up and down the road and more toy haulers arrived all evening. It was going to get crowded and noisy.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The second thing was that with the growing crowd the cellular bandwidth was rapidly clogging to the point of uselessness. I had come here to get away from that problem in Quartzsite. Rats.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">But where would I go? The general plan, without a schedule, was to visit friends in Ajo/Why. That would be about a three hour drive. Easy peasy. And Highway 72 as a shortcut. I had never gone that way before. There, I had a plan.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Not only was that route new to me, but so were pavement markings like this. I guess the ordinary signs hadn’t been sufficient. Or were these offers of a trade?</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRoE4MOQxZZ-4KStjzmLmMmCJVHWMmpFXfWitLKbA8UlE3Yqup8kZwbOnooOVty7bGZRlVqgY_INrOu72QP7URhO1WjiaU_4dubUj8T9QAyCE7Og6W43bfmj4EjemzC7pTRsLPlY5NEVZPGimI-xcdKFyojuCnIlhpTBjStqywHHf3aJIOYQFuNF-DR8/s555/watchforcattle2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRoE4MOQxZZ-4KStjzmLmMmCJVHWMmpFXfWitLKbA8UlE3Yqup8kZwbOnooOVty7bGZRlVqgY_INrOu72QP7URhO1WjiaU_4dubUj8T9QAyCE7Og6W43bfmj4EjemzC7pTRsLPlY5NEVZPGimI-xcdKFyojuCnIlhpTBjStqywHHf3aJIOYQFuNF-DR8/s16000/watchforcattle2.jpg" /></a></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-66796447340358530732024-02-15T14:25:00.000-08:002024-02-15T14:25:12.778-08:00Check time<p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Walmart in Parker, Arizona, isn’t very big. Small town, small store. But it attracts RVers from Quartzsite (35 miles away) and people with homes and houseboats along the Colorado River. So the store can get crowded, like today.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The first thing I noticed (after the nearly full parking lot) was approximately 80 percent of the shoppers were old farts like me. Then it hit me: it’s the day after Social Security checks arrive. About half of us retirees get our funds the second Wednesday of the month, which was yesterday. I’m guessing my fellow Thursday shoppers had thought, “It’ll be too crowded on Wednesday. Let’s wait a day.”</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">A few decades ago I had an interesting taxi ride in Chicago. Traffic lanes meant nothing. Drivers would straddle the lines, swerving back and forth into whichever lane appeared to be moving faster — often into oncoming traffic. That’s what it was like pushing my cart through this small Walmart’s narrow aisles clogged with slow people and those who had stopped to contemplate their product choices. I had to divert into the nearly deserted baby products section for a few moments in order to regain my cool. “Should’ve waited until the afternoon when a large portion of my peers are napping,” I advised myself.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Having finally gathered my seven items I headed to checkout. The line for self-checkout was nine people long (some of them blocking traffic, of course). Rats. So I looked for the shortest cashier line of people with the fewest items. I found one with a woman finishing up a fully loaded cart, and a guy with mostly liquor and cheese puffs. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I don’t want to be agist or sexist, but holy crap, why do little old ladies always take forever to wrap up their transactions? The project manager’s axiom is that the first 90% of a job requires 90% of the effort, and the final 10% of the job requires another 90%. That’s what this was like. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">(In my head) C’mon, sister! You’re almost there! Just… just… put the card back in your purse… into the purse… into the… There, now put the purse in the cart and… in the cart… the cart… now push the… No! Don’t check in your purse now! Move out of the lane first! Move! AAAaaaarrrrrgh!!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> I really need to put more forethought into the time I choose to shop. Ugh, people.</span></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-2325714334805483822024-02-14T19:53:00.000-08:002024-02-14T19:53:03.227-08:00Accurate weather<div><span style="font-size: medium;">I’ve been to Joshua Tree National Park enough times to know the place is uphill from the towns on its borders. So when trying to find out what the temperature is in the park (at about 5,000 feet), rather than in the <i>town</i> of Joshua Tree or in Twentynine Palms or Yucca Valley (at about 3,000 feet), you need to use a weather site that lets you enter coordinates, not just place names or zip codes. The National Weather Service site allows that. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">That’s how I learned that while the town of Joshua Tree will have daytime temps in the high 60s with nights in the mid 40s, the park will have days in the low-to-mid 50s and nights in the low 30s. Yeah, no. Too cold for me.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRSREhNhVJ-qO2ePy46zG_syON_Y6nFLN4gcNXHS1sZfnak68lE4b0EwSoGU2fHviI0eFwGMWeP__b57JsJqpSFPe5cS0j4-2x52V-oitePQAMJs0vckgfTB3zPV-eISzyVEkakI68LmIXXsi3cxyA8pgQtXsZDJC2e1U73n-EEJdTUBF_4MPqPtYYBI/s555/jtnp-forecast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRSREhNhVJ-qO2ePy46zG_syON_Y6nFLN4gcNXHS1sZfnak68lE4b0EwSoGU2fHviI0eFwGMWeP__b57JsJqpSFPe5cS0j4-2x52V-oitePQAMJs0vckgfTB3zPV-eISzyVEkakI68LmIXXsi3cxyA8pgQtXsZDJC2e1U73n-EEJdTUBF_4MPqPtYYBI/s16000/jtnp-forecast.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">I need to give credit to my friend, Roxy, for making me curious about the forecast for JTNP. She was there last week and posted about it being cold and windy. Looks like it still is.</span></div>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2703583432502029443.post-81717230904132992492024-02-13T14:14:00.000-08:002024-02-13T14:14:07.198-08:00Golden hour<p><span style="font-size: medium;">I’m in Quartzsite to take care of some business with my mail forwarding service. I need to do a change of address from Lou’s former place in New Mexico. The Postal Service has extra hoops to jump through when you’re changing to a mail forwarder.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Then I need to jump through the DMV’s hoops to change my license and registration. And since my debit card expires in May, when I’ll be wandering the continent, I need to deal with getting the new one. Ah, stuff.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So, Quartzsite. It’s still high season here and that means cellular bandwidth is clogged. Even though I have two carriers it’s still hard to get usable web service. In the past I’ve waited until the middle of the night to use the Internet, but I discovered something this afternoon: apparently a lot of us old farts take post-lunch naps, freeing up enough bandwidth to post things like this.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Also, the not well known boondocking area very near town still has enough room for privacy. And quiet enough to nap in peace.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1dU81wIPIHzOQs1Cc0R3AXtqEhViC34vNQvDUHK3EVUwe66PzW3BTDNt2gZ7P_Z5wRxV9_rctzQEJ2JYOcW8YMdxh_Tk1zNshCBnT25NX0DTRpSQtdzwl2tMwoOfJv1SnWsfM4exsDgGtG8VziR_kWYgOF3b9hAKDCuc0wsibO4mPnQp-830rR1MLLYQ/s555/q-2-13-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="265" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1dU81wIPIHzOQs1Cc0R3AXtqEhViC34vNQvDUHK3EVUwe66PzW3BTDNt2gZ7P_Z5wRxV9_rctzQEJ2JYOcW8YMdxh_Tk1zNshCBnT25NX0DTRpSQtdzwl2tMwoOfJv1SnWsfM4exsDgGtG8VziR_kWYgOF3b9hAKDCuc0wsibO4mPnQp-830rR1MLLYQ/s16000/q-2-13-24.jpg" /></a></div><p></p>Al Christensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12097190974559622416noreply@blogger.com1