Good morning

There were only occasional smatterings of rain through the afternoon and evening. No lightning. I was good with that.

Three twenty-something guys stopped by not long before sunset. They hoped I knew where a certain trail was. Sorry, no. This is my first time here. They drove on, disappointed.

I considered repositioning the Rolling Steel Tent to face into the prevailing wind, in case the weather got wild at night. Contentment won the debate, the van stayed put, and the wind was mild.

Expecting a chilly night at 9,000 feet, I went to bed fully clothed, as if it were January at sea level. I woke up at 2:32, discovered I was too warm, and stripped down. Sure beats needing to add layers.

The sun rose through the remnants of the weather front. I put my clothes back on and grabbed the camera.

Go with the recommendation

A fellow nomad recommends a boondocking site on a mesa top. Maintained road. Over 9,000 feet up. Views in all directions. With a 4G cell signal. And some vault toilets. You put it on your itinerary.

You get to a nearby city the afternoon before and the night is filled with thunderstorms. Do you really want to be at high elevations when lightning is striking? And when your escape route is unpaved?

The day dawned sunny and clear and I figured I would at least go check the place out, then decide what to do.

I decided to stay.

To the Bat Cave, Robin

I know better than to go to popular recreation areas near big cities on weekends. But that doesn’t keep me from trying. And sort of failing.

Sandia Peak rises above Albuquerque. Hearty folks, who like a challenge, hike to the 10,000+ foot top on various trails. Heartier and crazier folks run up the trails because walking isn’t extreme enough for them. For those wanting something easier to handle, there’s an aerial tram. Hiking downhill is more my style. But the tram is closed because of the pandemic.

No problem, there’s a highway up the east side serving a ski resort and broadcast towers. It’s just the thing for heartier, crazier bicyclists and us tourists. I could drive up, walk down La Luz Trail a bit then hike back up.

Well, I drove up, at least. It was wonderful to be up in the cooler air, among the oaks and pines, with views of the desert below.

The trailhead parking lots and the lot at the top had signs declaring all vehicles must display a recreation permit. I couldn’t find information about those permits online. Additionally, there was a three dollar parking fee, and all I had was a twenty. Oh well. Besides, there was a crowd.

So I headed back down the mountain until I came to the junction with State Road 165. From previous map study, I knew it led to Placitas and I-25. A big sign warned it was an unimproved road with nowhere to turn around. But, what the heck, it was good enough to have a state rather than Forest Service designation. I dove in.

More than eight miles of rocks, ruts and potholes. But the Rolling Steel Tent handled it just fine. Gravity was a big help. I was able to roll through some of the jankier parts rather than trying to scramble up through them. Plus there was no snow and scarcely any mud.

About half way along I saw a sign for Sandia Cave. Well dang. If I couldn’t have a tunnel yesterday I’d take a cave today.

Again, there was a crowd, but not too bad. The trail was nice, part of it shaded, part along a cliff, and part with fencing and handrails. There’s a spiral staircase up to the cave which, sadly, means it’s easy for jerks to get there and leave graffiti. There’s no hint the place was discovered filled with Ice Age artifacts. But I enjoyed the walk. I’m really getting into this hiking thing.

ADDENDUM: I finally found the information about recreation passes for Sandia Mountain. It looks like my seniors’ Interagency Pass would’ve worked.

Unplanned hike

I was driving on State Road 337, along the east side of the Manzano Mountains, southeast of Albuquerque, when I saw a sign: Otero Canyon Trailhead. The canyon looked nice, so I pulled into the parking lot. I changed into my hiking shoes, filled my water bottle, and consulted the trail map. Okay, let’s go.

I imagined I’d stroll up the canyon for a half mile or so, maybe find a nice place under a tree to sit and exist, then come back. Easy. Just stretching my legs.

Well, not very far up Otero Canyon a trail forked off. Tunnel Canyon. Ooo, a tunnel. That could be interesting. I took the fork and the trail started to ascend. Kind of steep, but not too bad. I kept on. Parts of the trail were rocky. It kept climbing. I was breathing harder yet nowhere near as hard as my former fatter self. I was passed by a trail runner. How do those people avoid spraining their ankles on the loose rocks?

The trail eventually leveled out and it was decision time. Do I keep going, or do I turn around before I get too far from the Rolling Steel Tent? I wanted to see the tunnel, dammit, so I kept going. The trail started a gradual descent.

It turned out there was no tunnel, at least not along the trail. Names don’t always mean what we think they do. But I felt a little proud of myself for having hiked the whole thing. Former Cancer Boy conquering the wild! Feeling fit and in control. Woot!

So there I was, at the Tunnel Canyon trailhead, about a mile and a half from where the van was parked. Oh yeah, that. And it was uphill. So I got my second wind, dialed up the determination, and headed back along the highway shoulder. My lower back wasn’t very happy, but I kept chugging. Nature took pity on me, clouded over the sun and sent a breeze. Thank you.

While other hikers and mountain bikers had only the comfort of their car seats awaiting them, I had the world’s most comfortable bed. Ahhhhhhhh… That’s the way to live.

On the move

I bid farewell to Rancher Lou this morning. It had been a nice, stress-free couple of months with my good friend, but I had to go before I succumbed to the homesteading virus and started looking for land.

Today’s drive took me through familiar territory. North on 180 through Cliff, Glenwood and Alma; east on 12 to Reserve and Apache Creek; north on 32 to Quemado; and east on US60 to Pie Town—home of disappointing pies.

The Cosmic Campground is along the route. Its main draw is night sky watching. There’s an area with concrete slabs where people can set up their telescopes. I knew it was closed because of the pandemic, but I checked it out anyway. I discovered there’s dispersed camping along the road in. There was a spot with a really nice daytime view—and a 4G signal!—but it felt too early in the trip to stop. Another time.

I made a short diversion from highway 32 to check out the Fox Mountain fire lookout tower. I got a little over half way there when I decided the road had gotten too nasty and probably wouldn’t get any better. The Rolling Steel Tent had handled it with ease (no 4x4 necessary) but it was annoying and tiring. I returned to the dispersed camping area at the beginning of the road, peed, straightened out the van’s well-shaken contents, and stretched my legs a bit.

I arrived in Quemado at lunch time. Fix something, or try the Largo Cafe? Easy choice. I’m tired of cooking for myself. I scanned the menu. Oh look, a green chile cheeseburger—a New Mexico staple. Now, I had a wonderful green chile cheeseburger at Sparky’s in Hatch. They advertised at as the world’s best. The Largo Cafe’s version is every bit as good. Thick, hand-formed patty, juicy, cooked to a perfect medium-rare, the right amount of bite from the chiles… Two thumbs up.

There’s a free campground in Pie Town run by the town. It has seen much better days. Well, all of Pie Town has seen better days. But it’s a decent place to camp—except for the totally trashed toilet and non-functioning water spigot. Oh, and no cell connection for me despite the tower right in the middle of town. I discovered the campground backs up to BLM land where the usual dispersed camping rules apply. But the road is rather sandy. It might not pose a problem, but I’ve had enough unwanted sand experiences, thank you.

Tomorrow I’ll continue east then north, eventually reaching friends near Taos. More homesteaders. Ergh.

Smoooooooooth

My new debit card arrived yesterday and they’ve changed them since the last time I was issued one. The number isn’t embossed, just printed on the back. I guess the raised numbers are unnecessary these days since no one uses the old paper tickets anymore. I wonder what vision-impaired people think of the change.

Howdy, neighbor

Fire season

That’s smoke, not clouds. This lightning-caused fire has been burning for three days a few ridges away from where we are.

A truck’s new career

Ever since Lou sold his custom-built travel trailer his pickup has became a hauler of building materials and other large things. 

The other day we removed the bed cap. The truck looks completely different. The black bed cap, with its wooden rack on top, made the generic white F-150 easy to pick out in a crowded parking lot. Now it’s almost invisible, like a white cargo van at RTR.

Today we got some gravel. The front-end loader dumped it in the bed, just like a commercial demonstrating the truck’s strength. Built Ford Tough! Yeah, man. 

The load was probably heavier than the engineers intended and the springs compressed to the bump stops. We cracked lame low rider jokes while driving very slowly, hazard lights flashing.

“You are here for an auspicious moment,” said Lou. “Today is the day this officially becomes a ranch truck.” A few moments later he told me about finding a source for organic manure. Oh yeah, this is a ranch truck now.

I suppose it’s what I get for writing about Spam

There has been a lot of spam in the comments lately, so I’m going to switch to moderated comments. Sorry.

Hot spot

Most of the meals I cook require only one pan. I can dish up the finished food and return the still-hot pan to the single-burner stove. But when I cook something that needs two pans I have to do a shuffling act. Where can I put the hot pan? There’s no room on my counter for a trivet, what with all the other food prep stuff. Even if there were room, I’d need a place to pack the trivet away when traveling.

Lou and I put our heads together and came up with a simple solution. I had a spare cutting board I never used. I could screw it to the top of the refrigerator box. That would also solve the storage problem. Now I’m eager to cook something so I can use our solution.

Adventures in cheap packaged foods: Armour Vienna sausage

A few years back, I learned folks in some parts of the country pronounce the name of this sausage vy-EE-nuh. It made me wonder if they pronounced the Austrian city the same way.

I first encountered Vienna sausage on a Boy Scout hike. I was at an age when I considered anything unfamiliar bad, therefore tiny pale hotdogs in a can, with some kind of fluid, was bad. Eating them at backpack temperature only made them worse. I never tried them again.

In the ensuing decades I realized bologna, hotdogs and Vienna sausages are pretty much the same thing, just different sizes with slightly different recipes. Vienna sausage is mostly chicken. I’ve had turkey dogs, so why not chicken dogs?

I tried one straight from the can. It was like eating a hotdog straight from the package. Eh, it was okay. Certainly not as repulsive as my Boy Scout memory.

But what would it taste like if I did it up like a hotdog? I rolled one around in a hot pan for a while then applied mustard. Hmmm. Not the best wiener I ever had, but far from the worst (or wurst, nyuk-nyuk). I finished the can. I won’t be craving Vienna sausage, but I won’t be running from it either.

I suppose Vienna sausage became a camping staple because it doesn’t need refrigeration. The refrigeration issue is one reason I’ve been trying all these prepared foods. Sure, I prefer fresh food, but it’s not always practical to store in a van. And these days, with an iffy supply chain, I want to have as much food on hand as I can—even if that food is merely okay.

ADDENDUM:

I saw this  Vienna sausage variation in a Dollar General store. The retro label caught my attention. I checked the use-by date to make sure it hadn’t been there since 1958. Nope, it was new, and less than a buck, so what the hell, I gave it a try. Ugh, what an unpleasant experience.

Seven years with my gear: Morningstar TriStar MPPT Solar Charge Controller

I was flush with house sale money, so when various solar savvy people said I needed the Morningstar TS-MPPT-45 charge controller, which cost more than $500, I said okay and ordered it up.

The experts recommended the TS-MPPT-45 because of the high voltage output of my panel—38V. Also, at the time, the same experts were dismissing PWM controllers as old fashioned. They also said MPPT controllers were a better choice for the sealed AGM batteries I wanted to use. (More about the batteries in another post.) They knew more than me, so…

Other than the expense, there have been no problems. The only oddity was discovering it throws a weird error code when the Rolling Steel Tent is parked for the night under a certain type of artificial light, like those used in the RV parking area of the Q Resort & Casino near Los Algodones, Baja California. It resets itself when the sun comes up, so no big deal.

Besides, the controller’s size and big heat sink fins impress the hell out of some people. “Oh, yeah, I’ve got a small nuclear reactor in here.” Or, “I’m in direct communication with the Mars Rover.” Or, “It’s part of a system that reads minds and beams thoughts into your head.”

Correlation and causation

It hadn’t rained during the two+ months I’ve been at Lou’s place. Yesterday I parked the Rolling Steel Tent 180° from its usual direction, and it rained. So one must therefore conclude the reorientation of the van caused it to rain. Right? No?

Food: no photos, just links

I've had mixed experiences with chorizo. Today I lucked out with some tasty stuff I found in a dedicated Mexican foods cooler in the supermarket. There were also delicious cook-’em-yourself tortillas. Then I got some guacamole salsa over in the usual Mexican food aisle. I scrambled up some chorizo and eggs, melted on some mozzarella I had, cooked up a stack of tortillas, spooned on the salsa and had a fiesta in my mouth.