More ocean gazing

Pier review

I've worked myself into a corner

I'm taking a break from the desert again. (Or is the desert my break from the coast? Whichever.) I'm in Imperial Beach, California. See the higher land in the background of the photo? That's Tijuana. And the green area on the left is the Tijuana Estuary.

I'm semi-stealth camping where the last stretch of coastal road ends. South of here it's all estuary, beach and Border Patrol. The city of Imperial Beach has kindly provided several blocks of totally unrestricted parking. I'll occupy one of those space for a while, thank you.

A small voice in the back of my brain says I should also camp in the other three corners of the lower 48. You know, as an act of compulsive accomplishment and something to drop into conversations and blog posts. But the larger part of my brain says, "Mmmmm, no. I have no desire to go to far northeast Maine. And I was in Key West years ago. Been there, done that. I was on the Olympic Peninsula twenty-something years ago, and I might find myself there again, but I'm not going to make it a goal. I'm just going to enjoy hanging out here. Now shut up."

Small town

Sunset and anglers at Lake Mead

More murals

Unlike the Roy Purcell murals I shared yesterday, the mural-covered Last Stop (Highway 93 between Kingman and Hoover Dam) makes no pretenses of artistic seriousness. It's about commerce and attention-getting weirdness. Let's just reach in the popular culture grab bag and pull out...

Besides the usual travel stop things, you can also ride a monster truck and a shoot machine gun. How's that for an "inward search for self?"

Two things

Sites and forums dedicated to living in vehicles are filled with lists of essentials. There are even videos showing all the items you need and how to use them. But if you're living in a vehicle so you can travel, then there are two items that rarely get mentioned.

If you're going to be wandering the United States, visiting a lot of National Parks and Monuments, and camping in Forest Service or Bureau of Land Management campgrounds, then you'll probably want an Interagency Pass.

If you're a young fart, an annual pass will cost you $80 a year. If you're an old fart (62+), the senior pass is $10 and good for the rest of your life—a life that will be enriched by travel and being in nature.

Whoa, $80 a year for a pass? Well, let's say you want to do the trifecta of Grand Canyon, Zion and Bryce Canyon while you're in that region. Grand Canyon is $25, Zion is $25 and Bryce Canyon is $30. That's $80 right there. And using a pass will get you through the gate quicker than if you had to pay each time.

If you're a senior, your lifetime pass is also good for 50% off the price of federal campsites.

No states that I know of accept the federal Interagency pass. They want their own sources of revenue. So check to see if a state you plan on visiting a lot offers their own annual pass.

The other item is a passport or passport card. (Or and Enhanced Drivers License, currently issued only by New York, Vermont, Michigan and Washington.)
I would hope everyone already has a passport, that everyone has had the time, resources and desire for foreign travel. But I know that's not the case.

Sure, it's a hassle getting a passport, and you might never need one. But someday down the road you might want to drive to Alaska, which means going through Canada. Or you might want to go to Mexico for low-cost dental, optical or medications, or for warmth in the winter. You'll need a passport. Ever since 9/11 US citizens have needed a passport to get back into the country. C'est la vie. Así es la vida.

If you already have a passport, check the expiration date. Mine expires this summer, so it's time to start the renewal process. If you don't have a passport and you haven't hit the road yet, it's easier to get one while you still have a fixed address. Do it now. Here's where to get started. Then maybe we'll meet one day on a beach in Baja.

In a van, down by the river

Art. Or not.

I was checking RoadsideAmerica.com for interesting things near the bottom tip of Nevada when I learned about a mural painted on boulders at Chloride, Arizona. Hmmmmm, is it art or glorified vandalism? I figured I’d go see the mural in person before forming an opinion.

As I drove up the canyon I thought, well, it’s not like the mine hasn’t already messed the place up. And there’s nothing particularly spectacular about the geography. So, if this is defacing, it hasn’t defaced much. It’s just another of humanity’s presumptuous acts of inflicting its will on the natural world.

When I got to the mural my first impression was it’s the work of an ambitious folk artist. I like folk art. I used to collect it back when I lived in buildings and had walls and mantles and display lighting. But, eh, this mural wasn’t doing anything for me.

Maybe one reason was that it was originally created in 1966 but had been repainted in 2006. Repainted? Aw man. I was thinking maybe it was the peyote-fueled vision of some hippie desert rat who disappeared into obscurity. Who comes back forty years after the fact to restore folk art? Decades of weathering might’ve made it more mysterious and interesting.

So who the hell is this Roy Purcell guy who repaints his early work and puts a damn copyright mark on it? Turns out he’s a serious artist with all sorts of serious art and serious positions to his credit. That killed whatever interest I had left in the mural. Seriously.

But, hey, the great thing about art is that there’s all kinds for all tastes.

Do the opposite

I've been at Lake Mojave for a couple of days and, as usual, I have the urge to move on. For no good reason other that it's my pattern.

I've spent hours looking at maps and checking the weather. It's that time of year when it's getting too hot in the desert yet it's still too cold at night in most directions.

Meanwhile, other than some windy periods, the weather is fine here. And the camping is free. It's quiet. There's a body of water, which I like. And there's a cell signal, which I also like.

So the sensible, non-vagabond part of my brain is saying, "If you don't know where to go, just stay."

Oh. Yeah. There's that.

Just ducky

A couple of mallards at Lake Mojave, hanging around camp, begging to get on camera.

Hang on

I can't just stand up and walk around in the Rolling Steel Tent. The roof is too low. Moving from one end of the van to the other is often a matter of butt scooting. Hauling myself up out of bed and into a bent-at-the-waist stance can be a bit of gymnastics. (And he sticks the landing!)

My van life is made much easier by a couple of grab handles. The all-steel contractor cabinet, which is bolted to the wall and through the floor, is a great attachment place.

Off in the bush

Robots!

Every convenience store should have primitive robotic characters shilling for jerky and candy, right? These prospectors are at the Shell station on Cima Road, just off Interstate 15 between Baker and the state line. It's entertainment gold.

Schoolie retirement home

I could tell you the history of Nelson, Nevada (mining boom-to-bust yadda yadda yadda) but I don't care how it got there. I care about what is there. At least in the old ghost town tourist part of the place. Modified school buses (schoolies), vintage step vans, panel trucks, travel trailers, and more. Have a look.

Formerly of New Jersey

This one has been double-deckereized

I see your double-decker and raise you one

Then there's this Mad Max creation. Tremble before me, lesser buses.

A less post-apocalyptic version

Hey kids, want some ice cream?

This one could be sweet and quite livable with a crapload of money put into it

Ditto

Extra long

If only the one had enough power to tow the other

Makes an Airstream look bland

And just because: artfully arranged parts from a plane used in the movie 

3000 Miles to Graceland