Also in the shop

An old fire truck, used mostly for parades and the amusement of tourists, needs a tune-up and, most likely, a carburetor rebuild.

The front spotlight is about as big as my enormous head. I wish I had one like it on the Rolling Steel Tent. And the siren, too, of course. RrrrrrrRRRRRrrrrrrRRRRRRRrrrrrrr...

Scenery down the street

Emergency road service

Forrest got a call yesterday. His friend, Cyan, was driving an old military surplus deuce-and-a-half truck from Arizona to Colorado. The tires were almost as old as the truck and she had more blowouts than spares. She was stranded near Four Corners. Luckily, Forrest's project truck uses the same size wheels. So he loaded what he had into the minivan and went to the rescue.

Even with good tires the truck has mechanical problems. But it limped over the pass and onward to Forrest's place.

The truck has a living quarters module on the back, so it should be a fine expedition vehicle once its various issues are sorted out.

Connecting

Most of the time, I turn on my Verizon JetPack cellular hot spot and my laptop sees it and connects to it. Sometimes the laptop has other things on its silicon mind and I have to remind it to look for the JetPack. "Oh yeah. Sorry."

But when I get into a more populated area with lots of people and businesses running wi-fi, my computer starts acting like a stupid dog that fetches everything for a mile around except his favorite ball. "Let me offer you several very-weak-to-barely-useful networks, all of which are password protected, except a printer in the next county."

"No," I reply. "Connect to RollingSteelTentPrivate. It's about five inches away. You have the password saved in memory. You connect to it several times every day."

"I'm tired of that one. Same old same old. How about something different like thebabecave? You like babes, don't you? Nudge-nudge, wink-wink."

"Yes, unless we're talking actual infants. But I have important web surfing to do." So I turn wi-fi off and back on. A couple of the weaker networks drop off, but still no RollingSteelTentPrivate. So I restart the laptop. Twice. With some profanities in between, of course.

Finally! The big dumb Lab drops the well-chewed and slobbery tennis ball at my feet.

"Thank you."

The big dumb Lab licks himself.

Simplfy

You may recall that back in January of 2016 I got a new roof rack and changed the way I mounted my solar panel. Two-by-fours lengthwise with hinges, anchor points and a prop rod mounted to them.

I thought it was a great improvement. But after a year and a half living with that setup, I decided, eh, no, I didn't like it that much. There were a lot of bolts to keep tightening because the the motion of the Rolling Steel Tent would enlarge the holes in the wood. And each tightening would compress farther into the two-by-fours. And it stuck up into the wind more. And it looked too homemade for my tastes. (Well, I did build it in a casino parking lot.) Also, thinking back on the past several months, I realized I didn't tilt the panel that often.

So, RST Solar Panel Mounting Version 4.0 is stone simple and low profile. And lighter. Just bolt the sucker to the rack. Edgewise. Four holes, four bolts, done. If I decide I need to tilt the panel after all, I can make some simple adjustments.

Next on the project list is to shorten three of the rack's uprights. I don't need them. I use the fourth one to mount my directional antenna. Oooo, angle grinder! Sparks! Manliness!

UPDATE: The uprights have been trimmed. Forrest used his handheld band saw. No sparks, but it was easier to get a straight line.

Floors and foam and batteries and bags

There was a crew of six working on Forrest's truck today. Lou and I did the subfloor. Forrest and Bob built the rack for four AGM house batteries. Paige cut insulation board to size. And a guy whose name I didn't catch spent the day under the truck installing air bags.

Beneath the sweat, sawdust, welding slag and clinging styrofoam bits we're people of culture and taste. So, naturally, we wrapped up the day with wine and cheese.

Monster truck

As you may recall, I spent a chunk of last summer helping my friend, Forrest, build some cabins. You might also recall that Forrest is a mechanic. And more.

Well, shortly before I hit the road again, he bought an Isuzu NPR truck. Just the cab and chassis. Chevrolet V8 power. Big plans.

Over the past eight months he has been turning it into an adventure truck. The box behind the cab holds the stripped down Suzuki V-Strom shown next to it. There's a winch inside to haul the bike up a ramp. The frame for the living quarters is all two-inch steel tubing.

He fabricated a new front bumper. From scratch. Watch out, deer.

And he's converting it to four-wheel drive. He finally found the transfer case he needs and now it's a matter of getting the correct length drive shafts.

Obviously, there's a lot more to be done. I'll help if needed. Since I'm not a fabricator, welder or mechanic, my assistance might only be of the hold-this, fetch-that variety. But it'll be a fun summer. For me, anyway.

The N-word

William Grandstaff was a mixed-race cowboy and prospector who settled in Moab in the 1870s. Negro Bill Canyon is named after him. Well, actually, it was originally named with the other N-word but changed in the 1960s. After much community input and debate, the Bureau of Land Management renamed the trailhead (but not the canyon) Grandstaff Trailhead last year. They felt it was a more appropriate name for a sign thousands of people pass as they drive state road 128 along the Colorado River.

Whatever the place was, is or will be named, it’s a beautiful spot, particularly when the sun hasn’t cleared the rim of the canyon yet and it’s cool and shady. The trail follows a year-round stream along steep Navajo sandstone cliffs and through lush growth (which is green this time of year). Sadly, the canyon widens as the trail climbs, so the effect isn’t as cozy.

The trail ends at Morning Glory Arch, believed to be the sixth longest in the United States. I didn’t go that far. I’ve seen arches. I’ve photographed arches. I wanted to spend more time in the bottom of the canyon. I think you would, too.

More stars

I'm camped along Willow Springs Road, just north of Moab, Utah and the turnoff for Canyonlands and Dead Horse Point. The scenery isn't much, but it's free camping on BLM-managed land. Free is good. And the neighbors have been quiet. With my fumbling around in the middle of the night with the camera, having a sneezing fit, and briefly running the Rolling Steel Tent, I might be the noisy one.

I haven't done this in a while

Being someplace dark enough + the moon not being up + it not being too cold + waking up at the right time + having the camera battery charged + being in the mood for it. That's what's required for me to do star photography. Everything came together last night. Too bad the Milky Way wasn't also above the horizon, though.

Timing

This past September I pulled into the Lower Gray Canyon campground on a Saturday, hoping there would be an available spot. There wasn't. The place was packed. So onward to Plan B.

Yesterday, a Monday, I went to Lower Gray Canyon again and no one else was there. Just me. Sweet. Others showed up in the late afternoon and early evening, but I had already snagged the best spot. Off in a corner, right by the river, with no other campsites on either side of mine.

I might've stayed longer, but there's no cell signal at Lower Gray Canyon. Hey, I have friends to email, news to follow and blogs to update. Gotta have my Interwebs. So, it's off to Moab.

Them Changes

I imagined I'd spend two or three days by the creek in Hatch, Utah. But after a fine afternoon and not-as-cold-as-I-feared night I woke up to overcast. No big deal, usually. That's just part of not living in a building. However, since the ground was already soft, and the creek was high (or the land was low), I didn't want to risk getting stuck in mud.

I wasn't very far up the highway when the rain started. See, I was smart. But then the rain stopped. Then started. Then stopped. It might not rain enough to have caused a problem, but I felt good about moving.

I had checked my Utah map for places to go. Someplace I hadn't been before. Hmmm, state road 153, from Junction to Beaver, through the Tushar Mountains, looked interesting. All squiggly and stuff. But was it clear of snow? I looked up Utah road conditions and the online camera showed the road was dry at the summit. Excellent. I had a plan.

However, someone at the Department of Transportation had other ideas. I took the turn at the junction in Junction, rolled through the little town and...

Rats. At least the weather was clearing. So I continued north. Wallydocking in Richfield wouldn't be the most glamorous thing, but it would be someplace to sit out the shifting weather and make new plans.

There was a rest stop along the way. A rather scenic one (even if overnighting wasn't allowed). I peed and then went to visit the donkeys on the adjoining property. They must be accustomed to travelers offering snacks, because they moseyed right over to me. I had no food, but I could give head scratches. If they were disappointed they didn't show it. They were more gracious than some human asses I've met.

Spring is the season for seeking good weather and avoiding the bad. That requires adaptability to change—which leads us to this musical selection:

Drivin' and thinkin'

I was driving north on I-15, on the outskirts of greater Las Vegas. On my right was a place that auctions commercial trucks and heavy equipment. There were two school buses on the lot. One was sort of medium sized. I thought, “That would be more than big enough for me. If I were to do a schoolie. Not that I am, but, you know, if. I mean, if I were to go to the trouble and expense of buying one and fixing it up I’d want something a little larger than a short bus but not so huge it would be a pain to maneuver. Of course, even that smaller one is too long to park just anywhere…”

That kept my mind occupied until the junction with US93, where I stopped for gas. After that I contemplated the need for billboards telling big rig drivers, “If it takes several miles to pass another rig, you probably didn’t need to make that pass.” But that violates a basic rule of billboards: seven, eight words, maximum.

That kept my mind occupied until Mesquite, at which point I started thinking about getting bagels in Saint George. Mmmmm, bagels.

The long pants go back on

Enough of the beach for now. Enough of the crowds. It's back to Utah, where there's still snow at higher elevations. And where the nights will be nippy. After sleeping in the desert last night without covers, I'll need to break out the extra bedding. And maybe the heater.

I'm camped in a meadow just south of Hatch. Lou discovered the spot last year. (Or was it the year before?) Anyway, as you can see, it's a very nice place. Other campers got the primo spot, but I'm happy with mine. There's a creek that's a little silty right now from the snow melt. I'd be extremely excited if I were an angler, like Lou. Instead, I'm excited there's a good 4G signal.

The red rock cliffs in the background are part of the same geologic layer that forms Bryce Canyon. I don't know if I'll stop by Bryce this time. I'll stay here at least a couple of days and think about it.

Déjà vu all over again

Back at Doheny State Beach for a couple of days