Bye-bye, birdie

A dove picked exactly the wrong time to fly up out of the ditch. Always look both ways before crossing the highway, boys and girls.

Wicked Wind of the West

I knew there were going to be strong winds during the night. Twenty to thirty miles per hour with gusts up to fifty. A red flag warning had been issued. Semis and RVs should avoid crosswinds. Beware of downed trees. Stuff you have outside might blow away.

I figured I had the Rolling Steel Tent positioned nose-first into the wind, presenting it’s smallest, most aerodynamic side (aerodynamic for a van, anyway). I should be good for the night.

But the wind changed direction about 45 degrees. It tumbled and spun, became ragged, lumpy and angry as it came over the Cargo Muchacho Mountains. The van rocked and shook worse than in any windstorm I’d previously experienced. Was I going to end up in Munchkinland?

I could get up, get dressed, go out in the dark, ascertain the true direction of the wind, and realign the van. But my bed was comfortable and warm. So I rode it out.

But I’d had enough by dawn. Mumble grumble, pull on shoes and get things straightened out. And check for crushed witches.

Early bird

Not many boondockers show up in the border desert this early in the season. But a big Arctic cold front makes other areas less appealing to me. So here I am, the closest neighbor about a quarter mile away. Solitude City. Happyland.

Some other time

Every Californian knows the best beach weather is in autumn. It’s still warm enough. You don’t get the fog and overcast sent by the marine layer. There’s no rain. The kids are in school.

But every Californian also knows autumn is wildfire season.

As I sit here in the desert I yearn to be at the coast. But it’s on fire. The air is filled with smoke and ash and anxiety and sadness.

Chinese experiment

My tastebuds and saliva glands are still recovering, but the situation is improving. Some things clog my mouth. For example, chicken turns into a fibrous lump that soaks up all moisture and is hard to swallow. Bread turns into putty. And while more things taste somewhat like I remember them, most things taste different. The good news is that not nearly as many things taste outright nasty.

Rather than make or order a meal and end up unable to eat most of it, I’ve been going to Chinese buffets and trying a bit of this, a bit of that, looking for foods I can enjoy. Spring rolls, sautéed mushrooms, broccoli beef, and shrimp get tentative thumbs up. Noodles, rice, pot stickers, not so much.

Still, I consider it great progress. After all, it has been only a little over two months since treatment ended.

Using that pass

I’ll probably go to Death Valley when I finish my Pahrump visit. In terms of distance here in the West, it’s just over the hill.

Death Valley got me thinking about National Parks and how many of them I’ve been to. So I made a list, alphabetical, by state.

Grand Canyon, Arizona
Saguaro, Arizona
Death Valley, California
Joshua Tree, California
Kings Canyon, California
Lassen Volcanic, California
Pinnacles, California
Redwood, California
Sequoia, California
Yosemite, California
Black Canyon of the Gunnison, Colorado
Mesa Verde, Colorado
Rocky Mountain, Colorado
Biscayne, Florida
Everglades, Florida
Glacier, Montana
Great Basin, Nevada
Crater Lake, Oregon
Great Smoky Mountains, Tennessee
Big Bend, Texas
Arches, Utah
Bryce Canyon, Utah
Canyonlands, Utah
Capitol Reef, Utah
Zion, Utah
Shenandoah, Virginia
Olympic, Washington
Grand Teton, Wyoming
Yellowstone, Wyoming

White spots in the desert

Not too many years ago I would have thought it very odd for RVs to be parked out in the desert. Now it’s part of my normal world.

I and a few dozen others are camped on the edge of Pahrump NV. The town is a lot busier than the last time I was here, about three years ago, but it’s quiet out in the sage and cacti. And the weather is great.

Corner to corner

They say the gods laugh at our plans. Hell, I laugh at my plans.

Monday morning, as I rolled out of Rancho Lou, I figured I’d pick up my new driver license in Douglas, Arizona, then slowly head west, keeping to warmer weather. But Monday evening I learned there was going to be an open house mid-day Wednesday at the Homes on Wheels Alliance vehicle buildout project in Pahrump, Nevada. That meant several people I’ve wanted to see again would be in one place, plus I could check out how the projects are going.

Hmmmm, from the southeast corner of Arizona to the southern end of Nevada in a day and a half? About 600 miles? Ten hours? Plus gas, food and pee stops? It could be done. And it wouldn’t be as insane as the Flagstaff-Phoenix-Yuma-Kingman-Flagstaff one day trip I made a few years ago. But I’m supposed to be recovering from cancer treatment. Would I have the stamina? Only one way to know. So adios old plan, hello new one.

Today’s little drive

It’s Tuesday evening and I’m camped at Lake Mead. Tomorrow will be a leisurely cruise to Pahrump. At least that’s the plan.

On the loose

It would be great if this worked for me

This article made me think about my own condition. My malfunctioning tastebuds were caused by radiation treatment, not pernicious anemia, but I wonder if B12 would help.

A 64-year-old man went to the doctor complaining of pain in his tongue and mouth. Upon examination, doctors found the patient's tongue to be missing taste buds. He was diagnosed with pernicious anemia, which is caused by an inability to absorb vitamin B-12, needed to make red blood cells. 

The condition was reversed after weekly injections of B-12.

Two-inch drop at the chop shop

After it warmed up a little this morning I started emptying the Rolling Steel Tent so I could disassemble the bed and lower it. The stuff under the bed, the stuff in the semi-secret compartment under the mattress, things in the “hallway.”

Then it was time for Lou and his reciprocating saw. Cutting the legs was quick work.

When I put the frame back into the van I realized I hadn’t considered the wheel hump. Oh. Yeah. The bed just barely cleared it before. But now…

Time to improvise.

I worked out a suitable solution that didn’t involve taking a cutting torch to the wheel hump or beating it into submission with a sledge.

And now, voila, headroom! No more slouching. No more rubbing a bald(er) spot on the top of my head. Happiness.

Lou’s vardo is back on the market

Now that his house is ready for occupancy, Lou doesn’t need to live in his trailer anymore. It includes solar, a composting toilet, on-demand water heater and much more.

Spread the word, or grab this beauty for yourself. Here’s the link to the listing. Someone is going to get a great deal.

Sittin’ pretty

After more than 270,000 butt-miles (with 116k of them being from the previous owner’s ass) the Rolling Steel Tent’s seat was in sad shape.

The old cushion

While searching the interwebs for a suitable replacement, I discovered an outfit that sold new covers and fresh foam. Even better, they had a video on how to install them.

So I placed an order as soon as I had the budget, a predictable shipping address, and someone to help. (Thanks, Lou.)

The new cushion

Everything looks easier in videos, particularly when the stars have a large table to work on and plenty of experience recovering seats. My reality involved more fumbling, wrestling and swearing. But we managed to get it done, and except for a slight pucker on one side, it looks like it was done by someone who knew what he was doing. And my ass gives its top rating: five farts.

Ready for many more comfy miles

Meanwhile

The licensed HVAC guy finally came and hooked up Lou’s unit. That means the house is ready for final sign-off.

A few items have already made their way into their new home.

Requesting clearance

You’ll see signs or notations on maps declaring certain “roads” are for vehicles with high ground clearance. Okay, 4x4s immediately come to mind, but which other vehicles are considered high ground clearance? There are probably many choices in the automotive realm between Lamborghinis and monster trucks.

Well, to figure that out, I looked up the specs for various trucks and SUVs. A factory-standard Jeep Wrangler—the very stereotype of “high ground clearance”— comes in at about 10.5 inches/26.6 centimeters. Other unmodified 4x4 rigs fall between there and 9.5 inches/24 centimeters.

That made me curious. I got out my tape measure and crawled under the Rolling Steel Tent. The lowest point is the differential (as it is with nearly all trucks). It’s 9.5 inches/24 centimeters from the ground. All the other bits—oil pan, gas tank, muffler, etc.—are higher. I was not surprised. Full-size vans are essentially pickup trucks underneath. So if a 2x4 pickup could handle a certain road, why not a van?

When I told Lou I was going to write about ground clearance he said, “You only need to be higher than the rocks.”