Couple of plugs

I figured I'd point my few readers to a couple of other blogs. One is done by my friend, Lesa. http://simplylesa.blogspot.com/

Lesa writing away

The other is one I discovered today when I saw a Harley pulling a trailer parked outside the Calipatria library. "Blue Road" by Jaclyn Heyen. It pays to have your URL on the back of your vehicle. http://www.jhblueroad.com/

Cheeseburger with a side of surprise

I had come back from the Calipatria library and decided to get lunch at the Buckshot Cafe in Niland. (It's nice to have someone else do the cooking once in a while.) As I was finishing up, a familiar man sat next to me at the counter.

"Lou! Good to see you. Welcome to the Slabs." He'd been up in the Parker/Lake Havasu area the past month or so. Now he and his hand-built Gypsy trailer are camped by Lesa, Greg and I. Only Greg doesn't know it yet because he's in Brawley or El Centro today.

You need a cold shower

I'd heard talk of a "shower" in Slab City. Well, this is it. A concrete chamber where one irrigation canal drains into another, with a homemade ladder. It's about five feet from the incoming water to the pool at the bottom. I don't know how deep the pool is. I haven't tried it. I imagine the water is less chilly during the summer. If there can be sunken tubs, why not a sunken shower?

Half a plan is better than none

Back before I discovered van dwelling, one of my retirement options was to get two small lots, one in Canada for summer living, one in Mexico for the rest of the year. They’d serve as my private single-vehicle RV parks.

But then I thought about the complications of buying land in a foreign country, visas, having to pay property taxes, the possibility of vandalism while I was away... I scrapped that idea.

I realized the other day that I’m living half that plan now. I have a few three-seasons places I can stay free for as long as I want. For example, I could hunker down in Slab City from autumn to spring. No rent, no taxes, no one telling me to move on after 14 days. Now I just need some summer locations. I’ll be drifting northward as things warm up and snow melts. In the meantime, there’s some exploring to do.

In hot water

The story goes something like this, depending on who tells it. When Camp Dunlap was built back in 1942, they exploited a hot mineral spring just inside the southern edge of the camp. Some say the spring supplied hot water for the camp. But mineral-laden water wouldn't have many uses. Perhaps it was used to fill the swimming pool.

Whatever the use, the spring was capped off or the pipes ripped out or something when the camp was shut down and dismantled in 1956.

But water will find its way to the path of least resistance. The spring popped up next to the old concrete containment structure. Once more, Nature thumbed its nose at the Corps of Engineers.

A couple of decades passed and Camp Dunlap transformed into Slab City. The hot mineral spring was rediscovered. It wasn't very big, so someone brought in a backhoe and dug a good sized hole. Ladders, steps, a bench and some carpet remnants followed. Now the spring serves as Slab City's public bathtub. And, at some hours, a party spot, like most hot tubs.

It's murky, but it's good for boiling off the grime.

There are less "rustic" hot springs by Salton Sea, but they charge admission

The remains of the spring's military plumbing

A little walk

I discovered the other Slab City pet cemetery

One of the two big abandoned water tanks

A trail on the back side of Salvation Mountain

Not all aliens arrive in saucers

Makin' a buck, maybe

Even though Slab City is a collection of wanderers, misfits, anarchists and hippies, some residents have an entrepreneurial streak and have set up modest businesses here.

Auto, diesel, RV and farm equipment repaired here

Their inventory is small (and mostly recycled) but their knowledge is large

Leave whatever amount you feel is fair in the donation jar

Morning coffee, campfires, meals, mail, happy hour, library, and a cast of characters

The low wattage radio station, SLAB FM 96.3, has swag for sale

Live music, open mic night on Saturdays

Slab City humor

Shoe tree 

Dry dock

Ownership

There are patches of Slab City occupied by full-time residents. They’ve marked the perimeters of what they consider their plot with lines of rocks, fences, walls, barricades, razor wire, vehicles, piles of junk. With signs that say keep out, no trespassing, private property.

However, they’re squatters. They don’t own the land. California does. The state just hasn’t done anything about it. Yet.

What is ownership, anyway? Is something yours because you say it is? Is it yours if no one takes it away? If I can take from you something you took from someone else is it then mine?

What if someone tries to take my slab? Since neither of us hold title, does the argument go to the one who can defend his claim? By force? That’s how Europeans took possession of the New World. “This land is ours because we believe our God gave it to us. And because we have gunpowder.”

It’s one thing for California to say, “Okay, everyone get out of Slab City.”  It’s another for me to say, “Hey, you, get off of my slab!” I have no documents to back me up. Maybe indigenous Americans should have waved paperwork and attorneys at invading Europeans.

Slab City is an anarchy. No one is in charge. Yet people’s claims to a bit of land are honored by other Slab residents and visitors. Everyone here wants to be left alone and to be free from rules, so they grant each other the same consideration. 

Mostly.

“The spot was empty when I got here, man.”

“But it’s my spot. I just left for the summer.”

“Finders keepers, man.”

Excitement

I was strolling down Beal Road in Slab City this morning when a fire truck came howling my way. It was soon followed by an Imperial County Sheriff. And a Border Patrol truck. And another Sheriff. And a Calipatria Police car. And another Border Patrol vehicle. And an unmarked truck with stealth lights.

Hmmm, I thought. I reversed course and headed toward the commotion. This is what I saw when I got there:

There was a man on the ground, next to the Christian Center, being attended by EMTs (the yellow spot of color between the vehicles). I couldn't see whether he was cuffed.

I remembered seeing a Sheriff talking with a man when I had passed by earlier. Had the guy caused a problem? Had he passed out from the heat and anxiety? Did all the law enforcement respond because it was a major incident? Were they just bored and wanted something to do?

As I was leaving, a helicopter (Border Patrol, I think) arrived and circled a couple of times. Woo, big day at the Slabs.

Slab City pet cemetery

Barking down the sun

Slab City is rather quiet. The occasional vehicle, some wind, a generator, Saturday night music at The Range. 

But every sunset the dogs start barking. A couple dozen of them, at least. For about a half hour. I don’t speak canine, so I don’t know whether they’re wishing so long to the sun or if they’re checking in with each other after a long day of dogness.

Then the same happens at sunrise.

Shakin' all over

After a smattering of rain earlier, the storm that has been pounding the coast is blowing into the desert. I battened down the solar panel just in case. The van is rocking anyway without the panel's sail effect. Maybe some Slab City trash will get blown out of here.

Storm's a-comin'

The forecast is for thunderstorms here in Slab City this Friday and Saturday. Yeah, okay, these things happen. Can't have perfect weather every day.

But this morning a bicycle-mounted Paul Revere went from camp to camp warning us of the coming storm and to caution us to prepare to stay put until it's all over. There could be flash flooding and road washouts and great sinkings into sands. There might have been mention of frogs falling from the sky (one of my favorite scenes from Magnolia). We shall see.

Outside the wire

There's a limit to how long I can hang around an artist commune. Turns out it's about five days. Then the social structure, politics and individual personality quirks start to bug me.

This afternoon I packed up and made a supply run to Brawley. When I returned to the Slabs I moved to a different neighborhood. Far enough from the big RVs (which are fewer as the season is winding down), and hostile-looking compounds, and trashy spots, and yapping dogs.

I'll stay in Slab City a few more days and then decide whether I want to stay longer or move on.