Dawn at Buenos Aires NWR

A thin layer of fog

Baboquivari Peak peeks through the mist

Because there needs to be yet another photo of this

At the I-19 frontage road and Arivaca Road, just outside Amado, Arizona

Back from the no-cell zone

As Lesa, Lou and I were parked at the Sierra Vista Walmart, we were approached by a couple who were former boondockers. (They had a child and needed to settle down.) Among other things, they gave us a tip on a boondocking site. Gardner Canyon, north of Sonoita, Arizona. "And watch out for the speed limit in Huachuca City. They'll ticket you for two miles over the speed limit."

After twenty minutes on the highway, another twenty minutes crawling down a washboarded dirt road, and another twenty minutes waiting for a group of weekenders to finish packing up and leaving a campsite, we finally settled in.

Lou trims his hair and beard

The rolling grasslands dotted with trees reminded Lou and I of Santa Barbara County, California. Not the sort of environment we expected in Arizona. We stayed for three nights before continuing west—and to someplace with cell service, of course.

Like a gypsy

I posted a photo the other day of my friend Lou in front of the vardo he built and now lives in. There was a request for more photos. Here they are.

The silver sprayer tank is for the shower. It's just sitting there at the moment.

The TV antenna isn't at the top of the mast in this shot.

A handy fold-down table

Can you tell Lou used to build boats?

The stovetop is under the box, which is under the kettle

He heats with this tiny wood stove

Lou uses a composting toilet. This booth is also the shower.

Open for lunch

That's what the sign said (a sandwich board—how appropriate) as we rolled through Rodeo, New Mexico. So, being the leader of our little caravan, I decided to stop.

The front of the Rodeo Tavern & Grill is classic bar. Dark, with billiard tables and guys in cowboy hats occupying the stools. The cafe in the back room is decorated with the usual cattle skulls, farm tools and such. but there are also unique cartoon murals. They have a very '50s feel. Judging by the cracks and patches in the stucco, there's a good chance the art has been there that long.

But one of the cooler, newer, things is the decoration in the men's room.

If this side door is any indication, the Rodeo Tavern & Grill once had a different name.

Walk in the rocks

A great morning to explore the trails.

Lou, Ozzie and Lesa

Return to City of Rocks

I was here in the spring, but now I'm back with friends Lou and Lesa. It's fun to see them get excited about this interesting place. The original plan was to just stop a night on our way west, but they like it so much we'll stay longer. I feel like a successful tour guide.

Lou's vardo and Lesa's Scamp among the rocks

This is not the weather you are looking for

I know. People farther north and at higher elevations are having colder weather than this. Some are having snow. In some places your spit freezes solid before it can reach the ground. I've been in those places before. But one of the points of the van dwelling retiree life is to flee unpleasant weather as often as possible.

Yes, wind is a fact of nature in the Southwest during the colder half of the year. That doesn't mean I have to like it. Forty-something degrees is tolerable. Subtract ten more degrees via wind chill and it's a pain.

It can't be that the lower temperature is just there, minding its own business. No, the wind forces it on you like an attention-starved jerk. "Notice me! Notice me! Notice me! See how chilly it is? Huh? Huh? Notice me!" It has to make standing in the sun useless, and the shade downright nasty. It has to make your eyes water and your nose run. (The tissue sellers are happy.)

So, it's a day to play inside. Whee. Tomorrow or Thursday we start moving west, south and lower.

Meanwhile, for your enjoyment, an animated wind map.

Look who's back!

Lou rolled into Truth or Consequences today after a summer of wandering, with less hair but more solar panels. We have many stories and much information to share.

Your flight has been canceled

This old Lockheed T-33 trainer jet sits at the entrance of the Truth or Consequences Municipal Airport. I think the Roswell aliens deposited it on top of the three rocks after abducting the crew.

The Rolling Steel Tent gets less wobbly

Time for new shock absorbers. Or, as the Brits call them, dampers.

Into the annual funk

I was surprised and disappointed to learn we switch back to standard time tonight instead of next week, as I had been thinking. I don't really mind the changes in and out of Daylight Saving Time. Lose an hour, gain an hour, no big deal—especially now that I have no schedules.

It's just that the end of DST tells me, "Stop pretending there aren't fewer and fewer daylight hours, chum. We're sliding into the seriously short days now."

Seven weeks until the shortest day of the year. Crap. Then there's that awful mental trick where it seems like we don't get normal length days until, like, forever. Daylight hours should be the same as they were today by Valentine's Day. But it doesn't feel like it until April or so.

Making all this worse is my mild Seasonal Affective Disorder. Whoopee. At least I have easy access to real daylight. But when I'm in my winter funk, it's harder to drag myself off the bed, out of the van and into the sun.

And then there are the genes I must share with hibernating animals.

The best way to deal with my seasonal "depression" is to not be alone—which runs counter to my reclusive nature. I need to winter among other vagabonds. Whether I like it or not. Whether they like me or not.

Tradeoff

When choosing a vehicle for living on the road full time, there's the battle between room and fuel economy. That's less of a problem if you can be comfortable in a small space. But if you're not a small person, and if you want to be able to sleep stretched out rather than in a fetal position or reclined in a car seat, and tenting isn't appealing, then you'll need a longer vehicle. That's why vans are a popular solution.

But the fuel mileage of full sized vans is only in the teens, even with a 6-cylinder engine. Minivans get better mileage. Though they're smaller, there's still room for most people to sleep uncurled. Crossovers (the smaller SUVs built on automobile platforms rather than truck platforms) usually get better milage, but they're short, leaving less room for you and your necessities. I've seen people do it, but they don't seem thrilled about it. Some folks are even living in sedans.

If your body says, "More room," while your wallet says, "Better mileage," my advice is this: you can stretch your mileage budget by staying in one place for longer periods, but you can't stretch your vehicle.

Seen

Hold actual branches and leaves up to the truck, and spray. Presto, homemade camo.

How can we tell this sign was hand lettered, boys and girls?

The grocery gettin' all Warhol on ya

Choose your words

One of the basic things I learned in my former advertising career is that the way we describe things shapes people's perceptions of them. Consider the difference, then, between:

—I travel the country full time in a minimalist RV

—I live in a van

Both statements are true, but the mental pictures they create are extremely different. The choice of how we van dwellers describe our lives affects not only other's perceptions of us, but also our perceptions of ourselves. Am I a loser or an adventurer? Am I living the nightmare of homelessness or the dream of freedom?

I think this is more than some sort of power-of-positive-thinking mental trickery. I think it's a manifestation of one's fundamental character and temperament. Who am I—really? How do I describe myself to myself?