Each week, Campendium sends out samples of their most highly reviewed campgrounds and boondocking areas. More and more often, I've already been to at least one of the featured spots. For example, this week it's Lee's Ferry and New Brighton State Beach.
I split my time between campgrounds and free dispersed camping. Free makes my wallet happy, but there are places I really want to be (like the Pacific Coast) where campgrounds are about the only legal options. And, well, there are usually showers and dumpsters, too. Sometime those are worth the money.
I've been here, too, and it's free
Resources like Campendium help me make more informed plans and purchases. There have been places I'd spotted on maps that looked good until I saw the photos and fees and read the reviews. Sometimes the comments need to be translated from the priorities of the Airstream and Class A crowd to the preferences of us humble van dwellers. Now that traveling season has returned, sites like Campendium, FreeCampsites and others will be more important. See ya down the road.
It's a balmy day. Clear, sunny and nearly the perfect temperature. Almost no wind. I was in the Rolling Steel Tent, reading a good book, with doors and windows open, when suddenly a whirlwind passed by. It blew dirt, leaves, grass, twigs and even thorns all over the inside of the van. All over the bed. Oh well, it was time to change the bedding anyway.
She was just standing there, nonchalantly, in the middle of the road. I rolled up slowly and she looked at me like I was the one out of place. To be fair, the sign had said to watch for livestock.
A few days ago I fled the sub-sea level border country of the Imperial Valley because it was getting too warm. Higher elevation usually equals lower temperature, but the heat followed me up. Yesterday was spent in shorts. Last night was spent with doors open. So the climb upward will continue.
Machines wear down, wear out, even self-destruct. The Rolling Steel Tent is approaching a quarter million miles, so it’s not just a matter of regular maintenance anymore. Now that the steering linkage has been refurbished, and a couple of electrical gizmos replaced, the cooling system is starting to call attention to itself.
I was waiting at a traffic light in Calexico when I noticed the water temperature was surprisingly high—about 225°, 230°. I had been loafing along flat Highway 98 after coasting down the mountains from Coyote’s Flying Saucer Retrievals and Repairs Service. The air temperature was about 75°. The coolant should’ve been a little below 210°. But after the light changed and I was moving again the temperature dropped to normal within a mile. The same thing has been happening whenever I come to a stop then take off again.
Okay, what is this a symptom of?
I checked the free and easy thing first: coolant level. It was down just a little after letting the van sit overnight. Not enough to cause the problem. I added about a quart of water. That left five other possibilities, presented here in order of increasing cost and difficulty:
THERMOSTAT
The thermostat is one of the most primitive bits in vehicle engines. It depends on an expanding and contracting bead of wax to open and close the valve. It’s not an uncommon repair. And it’s just a matter of removing a couple of bolts and swapping the part—after removing enough stuff around the engine to get at it, which is (like all van engine repairs) a bigger chore. And there’s some coolant to drain and replace.
RADIATOR HOSES
I checked them for leaks. There were none. Everything was dry.
FAN CLUTCH
You might not know what a fan clutch is or whether you have one. The fan used to be simply bolted to the front of engines, turning all the time the engine ran. It was effective but robbed a little engine power. So a temperature-sensitive clutch device was added between the engine and fan. That way the fan would only be powered when it was needed. Today, a lot of vehicles use electric fans—particularly front wheel drive cars where the engine is mounted sideways. Electrical sensors turn the fan(s) on and off as needed. The Rolling Steel Tent has a fan clutch, and it might not be engaging to turn the fan on. To diagnose this I’ll need to drive around, heat the engine up, then open the hood and see whether the fan is turning. It’s on today’s to-do list. Replacing it requires removing other things to get them out of the way. It’s probably within my skill set.
WATER PUMP
Water pumps wear out, pumping less and less effectively until they don’t pump at all. If that’s what has been happening, the increases in maximum temperature would’ve been inching up over a longer period of time (months?) rather than fairly suddenly. Unless a bearing seized, in which case the temperature would shoot up and stay up while the engine was running. This is a job I’d have a pro do because of all the access issues and the greater chance of me doing it wrong. (I destroyed the engine in the third-hand beater I drove in college because the water pump hadn’t been properly sealed when a previous owner replaced it.)
RADIATOR
The radiator isn’t leaking, but it might be clogged with internal deposits and/or bugs and plant matter outside. I could have the radiator “boiled out,” but that only makes financial sense for old, rare radiators. Removing and replacing a radiator is easier than a water pump, and I could probably do it myself, but there’s still all that coolant to dispose of. I could probably do this myself if I had to.
As always, my fingers are crossed that the problem is at the cheaper end of the scale. Or that things will fix themselves.
UPDATE
I started the van for the first time today, drove a quarter mile out to the highway and headed into town. The temperature rose quickly. It was up to 230° within two miles. That wasn’t encouraging. Then, bing, the temperature started dropping just as quickly, as if the thermostat had suddenly opened. Things settled in at about 190°, which is the temperature most thermostats are supposed to open. I drove around some more and the temp stayed steady. A real test would’ve been to get out on the Interstate and blast up a good grade, but I held off, wanting to observe what else might happen. Things remained normal. So there’s a good chance it’s just a sticky, dying thermostat.
This video shows what it takes to get to the various cooling components on an Express/Savana. It's not rocket science, just tedious and a little frustrating.
UPDATE 2
I drove over 250 miles today, most of it 70 MPH on the Interstate, up some grades, and the needle on the temperature gauge never got over 200°. Everything seems to be back to normal—for now.
Someone in the general area has a campfire going. Or more like a smoke bomb. A rather acrid one. Sort of like burning hair with a month's worth of dirty underwear thrown in for extra flavor. Or maybe they're burning a wet sofa.
Though our society hasn't become 100% environmentally conscious (I'm not much of a recycler), we've come a long way from our ancestors who thought it was perfectly okay to just dump their crap wherever. Sure there are still people who believe the desert is the perfect place to deposit unwanted appliances and furniture, but most folks don't. We wouldn't just dump a truckload of beer cans into a gully. We believe in hiring waste management corporations to haul our crap out to the desert for us, where they build new mountains from our garbage and tax dollars.
Yesteryear: when men were made of iron and cans were made of tin
With the switch to Daylight Saving Time (DST) looming, and with millions of people starting their twice-a-year whining about it, the Florida legislature has passed a bill to keep the state on DST year round. (Federal approval is still needed.) This is the opposite of Arizona and Hawaii, which cling to Standard Time. Florida’s choice makes slightly more sense since we’re already on DST the majority of the year anyway. It’s the way I would go if forced to choose between the AZ-HI model or the FL model. I’d rather have a little more daylight in the late afternoon/early evening. Of course, I have the luxury of pretty much ignoring the clock, so it’s rather academic to me. But it’s something to blog about.
If you ever want to kill time with a friendly, funny, ex-film industry desert rat and ufologist, stop by Coyote's Flying Saucer Retrievals and Repairs Service just off I-8 in Jacumba Hot Springs, California. However, he's not sure how much longer he'll be there. His intergalactic friends might teleport him away.
I learned today that Buckeye Hills Regional Park is now day use only. No camping. This from Maricopa County Parks & Recreation:
At this time primitive camping will not be offered at Buckeye Hills Regional Park. Suspension of this service goes into effect on January 21st 2018 with the last night of primitive camping being January 21st 2018.
Damn! I was there a few weeks ago, not knowing it would be the last time. It was my go-to place in the Phoenix metro area. Free, easy access, quiet (except when the gun range is open), scenic, near stores and services. I guess noisy, crowded Walmart is the consolation spot now. Damn.
I’ve been enjoying life so much more since retiring and becoming a nomad. All the crap that used to plague me is gone.
Except when I sleep.
I had another of those dreams last night where I was back at work, dealing with irrational demands made by annoying people who kept getting in the way of me doing the stupid projects they insisted I do.
Obviously, there’s still some stuff trapped in my psyche that a couple of years of therapy didn’t flush clean. One clue was the cameo appearance my therapist made in a dream earlier in the week. Too bad Dr. Ron is retired.
About a week ago my friend Atli posted she was camping at Lake Cahuilla Recreation Area, a county park near Palm Springs. I'd never heard of the lake so I looked it up.
Okay, it had pros and cons, but a body of water in the desert, that isn't stinky and toxic (I'm talking about you, Salton Sea) or surrounded by a golf course, is a rarity. And I was fairly close.
However, I didn't want to rush up there and seem like I was stalking. So I held off a few days, knowing Atli was about to go home to British Columbia.
The dry camping area is a dirt and gravel lot with occasional trees and picnic tables. It's nothing fancy, but there's plenty of room and you can be right by the water. But some of the dry campers were using generators, so I positioned myself away from them, near the area with RV hookups. Hurray for the silence of shore power.
