Bugs beware

You know it’s an exceptionally buggy season when they’re selling two-packs of spray. Two cans, zero tolerance of flies and no-see-ems.

Where and when?

The tail end of Hurricane Rosa passed through Arizona earlier this month, dropping eight inches of rain on the Sonoran Desert in an hour or so. Things are very green, which is excellent for the desert. However, it also means the flies and no-see-em’s are more plentiful and annoying than they have been in a long time. They drove me out of Why. (Actually, I drove myself, but you know what I mean.)

I need to be in Mill Valley, California, on the tenth to dog sit for a friend. Twelve days to go about 670 miles, several ways to get there. Since it’s one of those five-week Social Security months my route and stops along the way need to be as economical as possible. For example, I should avoid California gas prices, but sticking to Arizona and Nevada as far as possible means a longer route, which would use more fuel. I'll figure something out. I always do.

In the meantime, here’s a song about Mill Valley.

Give me land, lots of land

As I posted earlier, Lou bought some land in New Mexico. Here it is. It already has electricity and a well. There’s also a refrigerated shipping container and a ramada that could be the beginning of a house. There are no restrictions on what he may or may not build on the land. And it’s in a part of southern New Mexico that doesn’t get too hot or too cold.

Lou saw the property while looking for other land. It wasn’t listed for sale, but he asked some neighbors about it. They contacted the owner back East. Yeah, he was willing to sell.

A couple of days ago, as a welcoming gift, the neighbors who put him in contact with the seller came over and mowed his grass. Nice people.

Vardo-to-go

My buddy Lou has bought a nice piece of land in New Mexico. That means he’s selling the very excellent vardo-style trailer he made. Lou used to be a builder of custom wood boats. All that skill and care went into the construction of his trailer home. Since I used to work in advertising, it’s appropriate that I help him with marketing hi soon-to-be former home.

Here are some specifics:

7x15 feet

Heavy duty purpose-built chassis

Timbren off-road suspension

Rigid foam insulation throughout

Double-pane windows

450 watts of solar panels

470Ah, four 6V flooded cell batteries

Bogert Engineering charge controller

Bogert Trimetric 2030 battery monitor

Samlex 600W pure sine inverter

12V Nova Kool 3.5 cubic foot refrigerator

12V Nova Kool 2.5 cubic foot top loading freezer

Nature’s Head composting toilet

Eco-Temp on demand water heater

Two burner propane stove

Olympian Wave 3 propane heater

Copper propane piping

Fan-Tastic vent

12V 19-inch TV/DVD and digital antenna

ARB awning

Can be towed by a mid-size pickup truck

But that’s not all. His large landscaped and improved space at Coyote Howls East Campground, in Why AZ, can be part of a package deal. Campground regulations allow current lease holders to decide who leases their space next.

Improvements include an 8x10 storage shed, washing station with water filter, and wind/privacy screens.

Here’s a link to photos of the vardo and campground space.

Here are links to a video tour of the vardo and an explanation of the tankless water heater.

Contact Lou at 503-302-7104 for more details, like the price.

It could be yours

 The Mercedes Benz of campers. Just $2,900 asking price. How could you pass it up?

It’s just driving

A couple of guys from the online car site, Jalopnik, are driving a 50-year-old BMW of uncertain condition from Seattle to New York City. The following quote from the latest report echoed what I’ve been wanting to tell virgin nomads who’ve never ventured very far.

Deep down, I knew I could do it. It’s just driving, steadily and carefully, with some fixes when needed and a good sense of when to throw in the towel. But the fear-brain can be a powerful thing. Doubt is a powerful thing.

Driving a hundred miles at once isn’t all that different than driving ten ten-mile trips. A thousand miles is a hundred ten-mile trips. A lot of little bites or a few big bites; the difference is mostly in your head, where those self-defeating doubts live. And your vehicle (assuming it’s not a complete pile of crap) doesn’t know whether it’s commuting to work and doing errands for a couple of months or driving across the continent for a week. You’re just drivin’ to the store. Except the store is a few states away. No big deal.

But Ralph and I figured this out too: a huge trip across the country isn’t so intimidating when you think of it as a series of steps, of smaller goals to accomplish. It’s not a drive to New York City. It’s a drive to lunch, yesterday afternoon. Then to the North Dakota border. Then to Bismarck. Then a few hours to Minneapolis today. 


One step at a time, that’s all it is.

This grand nomadic adventure—and all of life—is also one step at a time. Don’t let the seeming enormity of it paralyze you. The fear-brain will mess you up.

One who works with boxes

I went to Target to pick up my online order. Thanks to bilingual signage I learned some new Spanish while waiting at the customer service desk. Not only does caja mean box, in contemporary usage it also means cash register, derived from cash box. And a cashier is a cajero or cajera. The cajera explained this to me.

Ow

I spent most of the morning walking around with what I thought was a tiny stone in my shoe. When I finally got annoyed enough to do something about it I discovered the pebble was actually an ocotillo thorn jabbing through the sole and insole, poking up about a quarter inch inside the shoe. I don’t know how the little piggy who had none avoided being stabbed.

Very alone, in a good way

I moved down to Yuma because I have a Target order being delivered to the store. And because it’s time to go to Los Algodones to replenish my meds and eat shrimp tacos.

The area by American Girl Mine is completely deserted. Imagine that, a deserted desert. It’s just me and my thoughts. And an occasional curious hummingbird.

Rock on!

I pulled into the grocery parking lot and found a space. A white-haired lady was sitting in the car next to me, the engine idling. She had her stereo cranked up good and loud and I recognized the last bit of “Born to Run.” The song ended, she turned off the car and got out. She smiled and gave me a snappy nod. I thought to myself, “Yeah, tramps like us, baby.”

Making them words ‘n’ stuff

Words words words. One after another. Flowing from my addled mind like, well, a dripping faucet. I’m not the most prolific writer but I’ve been dedicating more time to it than I have in a long time. And I’ve been happy. Ideas come to mind that surprise and delight me. I thought of that? Very cool. To me, at least. I don’t know if anyone else would be as delighted. After all, no one loves your kids as much as you do.

All this writing means I haven’t blogged in a few days. I’ve been distracted. And I’ll probably be distracted a while longer. I usually think of something to blog about as I settle in for the night. The novel has usurped that time now.

Oh, And I didn't win the Mega Millions. Did you?

Fire in the sky instead of on the ground

Yet another adventure in the dark

Last night I took a break from reading and stepped outside for some fresh night air and a little star gazing. That’s when I saw the fire.

At first I thought a fellow camper had a ridiculously huge bonfire going. But as I walked toward the blaze my perspective and sense of scale shifted. It was somewhere outside the Hi Jolly dispersed camping area. A semi went past on the highway, revealing the fire was on the other side of Highway 95 and at least a quarter mile away.

What was burning? And why hadn’t I heard any sirens? None of the smoke was black, so it probably wasn’t a structure or vehicle. It didn’t seem to be spreading, so it probably wasn’t vegetation. (There’s not much of that to burn anyway.) Passing vehicles didn’t slow down to gawk. Was this a regular thing, no big deal?

Part of me wanted to walk over to see what was going on, but the wiser part of me didn’t want to go stumbling around in the dark and end up skewered by cacti.

So I hiked as close as I could this morning. A thin wisp of smoke was still drifting upward. It looked like it was somewhere behind the water treatment plant. Fences kept me from getting close enough to see anything.

Back at the Rolling Steel Tent I fired up Google Maps satellite view. What was behind the water treatment plant? A pale oblong blob of something. A rock formation? Then I noticed the thin shadow line along the south side. The pale oblong blob wasn’t a mound, it was a depression. A pit? Of… something? Something flammable? Some byproduct of water treatment? Or was it stuff brought over from the nearby refuse transfer station? If so, why dump and burn it there instead of hauling it a few more miles to the landfill?

I guess if I really wanted the answer I could ask various official sources. But I think I’d rather hold onto the mystery.

Another adventure in the dark

I don’t remember the last time I drove at night. It’s not that I don’t like driving in the dark or have a night vision problem, I just haven’t had the need. Until this evening. I headed out on an errand a little later than planned and ended up returning in the dark.

The past few days it seems like twilight lasts about 17 seconds. The sun reaches the horizon and a couple of blinks later it’s pitch black, as if daylight were on an on-off switch rather than a rheostat. Yes, the days are getting shorter, but my brain wants to think the time is lost somewhere in the middle of the day. When I stop to think about it, oh yeah, twilight gets shorter, too.

I hate November through February.

Incident report

It was after dark and I was reading in the Rolling Steel Tent. Suddenly the area outside lit up like a UFO hovering overhead.

Huh?

I looked out the window and saw three vehicles with blazing light bars facing me. I thought a group of off-roaders was looking for a camping spot. I opened the door and gave my best WTF look. A voice over a speaker said, “Show me your hands.” Um, okay. I also stepped out.

A law enforcement officer stepped from the side and asked, “How are you tonight?”

I thought, what is this? Rangers checking to see if I had my permit? I answered, “I’m fine.”

“We had several reports of someone yelling, swearing and threatening people.”

“Oh, that must be the guy in the blue van over there. I heard a bunch of yelling but I thought maybe it was a loud TV or something.”

“Did anyone come over here and bother you?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

He and the other officers converged on the blue van. I was curious what would happen, of course. Would mayhem ensue? Would there be an arrest? I grabbed my camera and watched.

It was all very calm. The officer who’d spoken to me talked with the two van dwellers. One sat in a chair and the other sat on the ground leaning against the van. The one in the chair was gray-haired and the other was younger, with blue hair. A father and adult son, perhaps. The older one seemed to be doing the talking. Everyone was calm, except maybe the younger one who mostly stared at his feet. At first I thought he’d been handcuffed, but then I saw his hands move apart. The officers left after about ten minutes.

It’s only my guess, but I think all the earlier yelling was due to the younger one having some sort of mental condition and his medication (if he was taking any) hadn’t been working. Or maybe he had just been drunk.

So, things have been quiet and calm the past few hours. I’m glad things didn’t get ugly. However, if the blue van is still here tomorrow, I might move farther away.

UPDATE: They moved on shortly before lunch.