Something left over from the coast trip

Forks in the road

When last we met I said I was going to a coastal stealth camping spot three hours north. So I headed up I-5 (or, as locals call it, the Five.) However, as I approached the Five/Four-Oh-Five Split I got thinking of the traffic ahead. Weekend congestion can be as bad as weekday commutes as people run errands and seek recreation. Did I want to be at my new destination badly enough to creep along with millions of others through Orange County, Long Beach, the South Bay, the West Side and San Fernando Valley? Mmmmm, no. Some other time.

So I stayed on the Five to the Fifty-Five and headed inland. Okay, but then what? Take the Ninety-One to the Sixty and the Ten and then east toward Phoenix? Or take the Fifteen to Las Vegas then onward to southwest Utah? Yeah, the Fifteen.

But did I really want to go to the Vegas area on a weekend? No so much. And did I want to drive that far today anyway? No.

So… Hmmmmm… Ah-ha! I know!

At the fork in Barstow I took the Forty east. My destination: the volcano trailhead at Amboy where I stayed a month ago. That would be the perfect place to legally spend the night, get away from crowds, and reconnect with the desert. Sometimes I don’t know where I’m going until I get there. It's good, though, to have multiple options along the way.

The knock

I’ve really enjoyed stealth camping in greater San Diego. Hang at the beach during the day, slip away to one of several places during the night.

But yesterday evening, as I settled into a spot on Mission Bay I’ve used several times, I started wondering if I was pushing my luck with the lack of enforcement. A week ago there were several dozen overnighters in the lot, but the numbers had been decreasing. Hmmmm, maybe they knew something I didn’t.

So I decided to drive down to my spot in Imperial Beach. I had always felt good there, partly because it’s down a dead end street, partly because there aren’t any parking restriction signs of any kind.

I was settled in with the windows blacked out and the lights off when irony paid a visit in the form of two Imperial Beach officers. They informed me inhabiting vehicles was forbidden and I informed them I would leave. No ticket. No drama.

Where to go, then? Back to San Diego? Or was it a sign I should move farther? Back to the desert, perhaps? Even farther?

But the more pressing question was where to spend the night. Somewhere I wouldn’t be rousted. Somewhere perfectly legal so I could actually sleep instead of worry. The answer was Oceanside Harbor. I’d have to pay, but I’d be buying peace of mind.

Having answered that question, I woke up to a new one. Where now? Well, to get a bagel, but after that…?

The very short-term answer was to drive down the coast highway and look for a place to park by the beach. That wouldn’t be easy, what with it being Saturday and all. I eventually found a lot on a bluff in Encinitas.

I’ll be here long enough to do this blog post and catch a little more sleep. Then there’s a coastal stealth spot I’ve learned about three hours to the north. So long, San Diego County. And Orange County. And Los Angeles County. It's been great.

People have their reasons for doing things

This guy spent about a half hour putting up this beach umbrella. He dug a hole, anchored the bottom section of pole, backfilled the hole, slid on the weighted base and tightened it, attached the top, got everything perfectly vertical and then... he sat in the sun. Okay.

Martin y Florencia

I didn't wake up this morning thinking, "Today I'm going to go find a couple from Santiago, Chile to talk to." But there they were.

First I saw their unusual (in the United States) Mitsubishi Delica based RV. As I got closer I saw the Chilean license plate. Oh my, they've come a long way. And they have farther to go. They're on their way to Alaska. The Americas, end to end. Here's their blog about it. Martin apologized for it not being up to date. They were disappointed to learn of the damaged bridge in Big Sur. They'll have to miss that part of the coast. They gave me a sticker they'd made for their trip and I put it in a prominent place on the wall with my other travel stickers. (Note to self: get some Rolling Steel Tent stickers made.)

Chet and Zorro the Wonderdog study the surf

Positioning

When I’m not at a campsite and don’t have a designated spot, I’m free to orient the Rolling Steel Tent however it suits me.

The first consideration is the slope of the land. If it’s not level, then I prefer to have the rear of the van higher, because that’s where my head is when I sleep.

If it’s a warm part of the year I prefer to have the side door facing north. If it’s winter I prefer it the other way around so I can get some nice free heat. If I can’t do either of those, then I’d rather have the morning sun come in the door to warm things up. It’s better than having the afternoon sun baking the interior, even in winter.

Sometimes I adjust for wind, especially when it’s warm. A nice draft flowing through the van helps a lot. Unless there’s too much wind, like the 30+ mile per hour stuff we often get in the desert. Then, when I can, I position the van nose-first to the wind (only to have the wind change direction on me).

There have been a few super sweet times I’ve gotten not only the slope, sun and wind working perfectly for me, but there has also been a wonderful view out the side door. Excellent.

At Sunset Cliffs

Getting snooty

My preferred spot

So far, my favorite place to hang out at the beach is a small parking lot used mostly by surfers, moms with toddlers, and vehicle dwellers like myself. When I say “like myself” I mean they appear to be of the by-choice variety rather than the by-necessity type. They’re also middle-aged and up, clean and quiet. I can get a spot close to the sand if I arrive shortly after sunrise. But I was slow getting going this morning, and I stopped for some supplies, so my favorite lot was full by the time I got there.

No problem. There’s a much larger parking lot a couple of blocks away. One end of it is used primarily by dog park visitors. The other end is populated by, well, here’s where the judgmentalism comes in. These are the people concerned taxpayers mean when they talk about “the problem of people living in cars.” These are the people who give people like me a bad reputation.

All of us living in vehicles violate the ordinance prohibiting living in vehicles. For some of us, that’s the only law we break. For others it’s just one of several. I don’t want to be associated with them or, worse, get caught up in a law enforcement sweep because of their behavior.

So I put some territory between myself and the littering, partying, panhandling, substance abusers. I parked among the dog walkers. After a couple of hours, though, I decided to decamp to a different part of town. I drove south to Sunset Cliffs. If it had been about 7:00 instead of 1:30, it might have looked like this:

The post I've been planning to write

I drive a lot. That means I experience a lot of other drivers, good and bad. Some are so bad I wish I could vaporize them as a service to the world. But I'd be satisfied with being able to project into their brains not only the knowledge of just how awful their driving is but also shame and embarrassment so deep that they pull off the road (safely, of course) and weep.

I get all worked up when I try to write about bad drivers. That's not good for my wellbeing. So I abandon the effort and switch to something happier. But I discovered today that Jalopnik has collected reader comments about how to spot—and therefore avoid the proximity of—bad drivers. They've done the unpleasant work for me.

As for my driving? I'm 110% perfect, of course. Not. But I try.

I don't miss 'em one bit

I just realized there's something else I love about the beach experience here besides sun, sand, water and briny air. The lack of flies. Oh wow, yeah. I can have the doors and windows open all day without the suckers buzzing around me—especially the tiny ones that never land long enough to swat. That is sweet.

And back to the ocean

On the bay side

When one wants calmer waters than the Pacific, and a view of expensive homes and seldom used boats, there's Mission Bay. There are several stealth-camping-friendly spots around the bay, assuming the authorities continue to ignore the ordinance against vehicle dwelling. The spot in the photo above is a city park next to a hotel. The one below is just down the street.

Good morning, San Diego

Stealthing the night away

Following tips from a guy with a lot of experience stealth camping in the San Diego area, I found my way to this beach parking lot. (That's the Rolling Steel Tent over on the left.) Surfers show up in the morning and evening, other beach users come and go during the day, then the place pretty much clears out at night, except for overflow parking from the neighboring condos/apartments.

Surfer vans, camper vans, kid hauling vans...

The lot is posted for no parking between 2AM and 4AM. That's sort of an odd window. My tipster said he has never encountered any enforcement in this location. That was true last night, at least. Perhaps one reason is that overnighters aren't parked in front of anyone's home or business. No complaints, so no visits from the man.

But even if there weren't the unusual two-hour ban on parking, there's the too-usual ban on inhabiting a vehicle. So I was a doubly bad boy last night. And doubly buttoned up with lights out. I will be tonight, too.

Tiny house on the beach

I don't know why, but I like lifeguard stands. A lot. I mean, it's not like I was ever a Baywatch fan. (Although Yasmine Bleeth, hubba-hubba.) Maybe it's their resemblance to lunar landers. "Hi, we just arrived from space. How's the surf today?"

Anyway, this one is unusual, because I don't remember seeing any others in California that weren't white or swimming pool turquoise.

I should meet with the various beach authorities and convince them to rent out their lifeguard stands in the off seasons. Take applications for tenants, do background checks, collect character references, have prospective renters demonstrate their off-grid living skills... No power, no water, no problem. Hey, it's a source of income, right? Go for it.