The compromise

"Okay," I told myself this morning, "I'll at least swing by the van gathering to see if my feelings about it are any different."

As I drove out of Craggy Wash I saw a familiar van ahead of me. Is that Judy? Then the driver waved. Hey, it is! I hadn't seen her in a year or more. She pulled over and we talked a while until a large RV came along and we had to unblock the road. That was a pleasant way to start the day.

Things were about the same at the gathering, and I felt no new desire to stay. But Lou had sent me an email. "If you see Paul from Florida, give him my phone number." So I needed to at least look for Paul. I saw my friends Jamie and Lesa instead. We caught up on things and I asked if they had seen Paul. They hadn't, so I left Lou's number with them to pass along in case he showed up.

Then it was off to Smith's for some supplies. When you're not sure where you'll be the next few days, and when some of the possibilities have slim pickings when it comes to groceries, stock up first.

I headed south to Quartzsite. I was mentally braced for the beginning of snowbird season, but, surprise, the place wasn't at all crowded. I like the Hi Jolly dispersed camping area north of town. There's lots of room still. Excellent. So I'll stay a couple of days, maybe more, and see who else I might run across.

Not many neighbors

The introverted curmudgeon wins

I left the Las Vegas area, trading Lake Mead for Lake Havasu. The plan was to take part in a gathering of nomads. Those with skills, tools and experience were going to work on the rigs of those with little or none of those. I was going to help. And shoot more episodes of Nomad Origin Stories.

But I lost the urge once I got there and saw the location (dirt and dust) and the number of people crammed into it. My inner recluse was going, "Aaaaaaaaaaaagh!" So I found a spot I could turn around without getting stuck in sand or running over bushes and went to Craggy Wash instead.

There's a place up a short, steep trail to a rise above the wash. No one comes up here. Plenty of room. Plenty of quiet. No need for social pleasantries.

Maybe I'll mix with the other nomads tomorrow. Or maybe I'll head down the road. Maybe there will be a new plan in the morning to go with the new month. Happy Halloween. Boo.

The downside of autumn

It’s that time of year again in the desert. It’s still warm enough to sleep without a blanket, but cool enough at night that my feet get cold. Despite several attempts over the past four years, I haven’t been able to train my feet to happily accept socks in bed. It’s like trying to leash train a cat. A feral one.

So I put the quilt just over my lower legs. Then, when I rouse to consciousness in the predawn hours, the van will have cooled down to the point the rest of my body thinks, “Hey, why should the feet get all that fluffy coziness? Gimme some of that!”

The trouble is, I wake up a couple of hours later all sweaty. Down does a really good job of trapping body heat.

I suppose I could spend some money and precious van space on a lighter weight blanket. (A small baby blanket, perhaps.) Or I could break out the wool socks once again and fight my feet into submission. Or I could move out of this in-between climate. Hmmmm, the overnight lows are about ten degrees lower near Zion National Park.

Because

Local news

You might want to avoid this part of Henderson, Nevada, either because it's toxic or because the author of this flyer is there. Or both.

Thanks again, YouTube

My favorite speed on the Rolling Steel Tent's heater/air conditioner fan stopped working—probably because it was on all the time. The next speed up is too noisy and the next speed down doesn't move enough air. I figured I'd need to take the dash apart and replace the switch or switch module. Everything's a module these days. So I searched YouTube to see how big of a job that would be.

What luck! There was a video about my exact problem on almost my exact van. It turns out it's just a matter of replacing the fan speed resistor via the engine compartment. Woo! Easy! And a new fan speed resistor is only about twenty bucks. Excellent. There's a trip to an auto parts store in my future.

Up she goes

When you go to Joshua Tree National Park, be sure to take the short walk into Hidden Valley. Not the campground, the day use area across the highway. It's really nice and somewhat cozy. And it's a popular spot for climbers. Like this one.

Same park, different campground

After a night at White Tank and two nights at Hidden Valley campgrounds in Joshua Tree National Park, I'm giving Indian Cove a try. Hopping from one campground to another helps satisfy my urge to move without going very far.

Give them the bird

Sometimes, as a way to shut down for the night, I play a mahjong game on my computer. It’s a simple, no-brainer game—match the pairs until they’re all gone. I play until my vision or brain blurs.

Somewhere along the way I developed preferences for some pieces and hatred for others. I even started associating pieces with people I like or hate, often based on the pieces’ tendency to aid or block the completion of a puzzle. Or because some designs please me more than others.

The peacocks are my favorite, perhaps because they’re the only animals in the game. I try to save a pair for last. It’s a bit of a bummer when they’re in the upper levels and I have to get rid of them early. I feel a bit of a failure when other pieces are the last ones. But the game doesn’t care. It doesn’t award extra points for peacocks. It doesn’t award any points at all. Ever. So I’ve developed a vague scoring system: Woo, peacocks! Hurray for me!

Woo! All the peacocks left! Double hurray for me!

We all grew up in a world of external validation. Some of us merely sensed it was useful to seek the approval of others. Some of us had it pounded into us (metaphorically or literally) that the opinions of others were all that counted and that the personal markers of value, success or joy were worthless and stupid. While our individual need for external validation may decline over the years, other people’s belief in their right and duty to pass judgment seldom does.

So we shouldn’t be surprised when those folks criticize our choice to live in a vehicle. And we should take it as seriously as their judgment of our favorite food. Or our favorite mahjong pieces.

There’s no reason their joy must be your joy, or vice versa. Live according to your own standards and dreams. Do what pleases you. Your points are the only ones that matter. Be a peacock.

Too late in the year for that idea

After three days in Joshua Tree National Park I started thinking about where to go next. Someplace fairly close but not caught in the current heat wave. Hey, how about the San Bernardino Mountains? It wouldn't be hot up there. Let me check the forecast.

Oh. Freezing nights. No thank you.

Clear air, clear mind

Back to the desert, back to the unexpected

I had no actual plan beyond heading somewhere inland. I stopped for supplies in Indio where it was nasty hot and thought, "Okay, where am I really going?" I had checked the forecasts and it was still way too warm most places in the Southwest. "Up. I need to go to higher elevations where it's cooler. I know: Joshua Tree."

After settling into a nice spot at White Tank campground (where I had always struck out getting a site before), a large ball of pink fluffiness flashed through my peripheral vision and disappeared around one of the rock formations. Huh? I went around the rocks and saw a young woman carrying a mountain of diaphanous fabric and followed by a photographer and assistants. It was a fashion shoot. So I got my camera and took a picture of people taking pictures.

Celebrity chat

Journalist and friend Jessica Bruder told me the story of how she became an honorary member of the vandweller community—a fauxmad.

You have 36 seconds to get mellow

Short takes

1.

The guy working the desk at the Fort Mason hostel had a confusing little speech habit. He said no the way others use okay or um-hum.

Me: A reservation for Christensen?

Him (looking at monitor): Christensen… No. First name?

Me (worried): Alan.

Him (nodding): No. One night?

Me: Yes.

Him (nodding more): No. Your ID please…

Me (shifting confusedly from one foot to the other): …?…

Him: You’re in Room 1, Bed 12. Here’s your pass, no.

Maybe he was being clairvoyant, knowing I’d abandon the hostel because of the snorer.

2.

It’s expected the wind will howl in the desert in the winter, with van-shaking gusts up to fifty miles per hour. What’s not expected (at least by me) is wind like that slamming out of the north at the beach on an October evening.

3.

When they’re harvesting garlic, the area around Gilroy CA smells like a good Italian restaurant.