Saving Spikey

Posted on May 25, 2012 by

The crew and I backtrack from Crazy Jug Point and settle into a new camp.

Yes, this is what I like!

Sunlight on fluttering aspen leaves . . .

We’re among pines and aspen trees in the Kaibab National Forest. 

Our site is beside a lane that’s far enough off Forest Road 22 that we’re not visible to anyone driving by, and rarely does anyone drive by!

No people are near here and that suits me fine.  Although there’s no internet service, I consider this is a superb camp.

It’s dusk and the three of us are sitting outside the Best Little Trailer. 

The tall pines cast wide, dark shadows across the pine needle carpet, extending all the way to the grassy lawn next to our campsite.  I’m in my camp chair.  Bridget is sitting on a soft mat I’ve placed for her at my feet.  Spike is lying in a crouch, four paws flat on the ground, his nose twitching, ready for anything that might come along.

He springs to his feet and sprints across the pine needles.

A good hiding place for wildlife . . .

Apparently he sees something over by the big log and pile of dead limbs.  Probably a squirrel.  Spike is relying on his nose now, as the animal is out of sight.  He hones in on a large clump of evergreen bushes.  A strange clucking sound emanates from the bushes, into which Spike is poking his nose.

Uh oh.  Not good.  Whatever it is – a wild turkey? – it’s hiding in there. It might be protecting babies.  I’d better go get him.

 “Spike!  C’mon now.  Leave that alone.”  I pick him up and bring him back to the BLT.

The following morning . . .

I’m up at 5:45 eager for our first full day at our quiet camp.  The crew is still under covers.  I prepare a pot of coffee.  Then I crawl back into bed to snuggle their warm bodies until the aroma of perked coffee fills our little home.  The clicking of my spoon in the cup brings two sleepy faces out from under the quilt.  Boy, they slept like rocks last night.  Those long walks and a new camp must have worn them out.

The PTV sits in dappled light. The solar panel still sends enough energy to the batteries for our needs.

The crew follows me out to my camp chair.

We discover several varieties of evergreens.

While the first rays of sunshine appear between the pine tops across the lawn, I drink the coffee and feel the sun’s warmth against the chill of the morning.

“Well.  You two look awake now.  You want some breakfast?”  I get up and spread some kibble on the vinyl floor of our kitchen.  I pour myself some more coffee while they munch at my feet.

Soon I have the crew in their suits and the walking stick in my hand.

We go deep into the forest. 

“I get the message. This is YOUR lawn.”

I like to walk where the only footprints are from wildlife . . . and cows.

Hoof prints remind me of the herd of cattle, all young bulls, some merely calves, that plodded past our camp last night.  A big black one with a white face, the only one with horns, gave me the evil eye while his herd grazed on the grassy lawn.

On the way back to camp, Bridget ensures I get a good work-out.  She always picks up the pace when we’re homeward bound, and this morning it’s mostly uphill.

The last hundred feet or so, I let the crew race free back to our camp.

We all catch our breath over on the lawn.   I take some photos.

Bridget likes a camp where she can keep her paws clean.

Spike patrols our campsite . . .

Suddenly Spike’s legs stiffen, his nose points at the BLT, and his eyes become intense. Oh dear, something serious is about to happen.  The muscles in his haunches tense and a wide strip of fur on his back stands straight up. 

The incident transpires in only a few seconds.

Spike barks and begins to trot.  I follow his direction and see something moving a few feet from the BLT.  Spike is a good thirty feet ahead of me and it’s another fifty feet or so from Spike to this animal.  Spike breaks into a run.  I automatically run after him.  Oh, dear God!  It’s a porcupine!

Spike’s in rapid pursuit.

The porcupine is running away.  I’m surprised by the size of the thing and the speed at which it can move its cumbersome body on such short legs.  I yell frantically, “Spike, stop!  No!  Spike!” as I try to catch up with him.  He’s ignoring me and gaining on the moving quill-shooting machine, which is now only about six feet ahead of him.  I see the quills go up and anticipate Spike yelping with pain.  My yell turns to a scream that reverberates across the forest.  “SP-I-I-I-K-E!”

His intense, terrier focus breaks, and he hesitates.

That gives me just enough time to catch up and stomp my foot on his leash.  The porcupine, now only about six feet away, scrambles awkwardly away from us and up a pine tree.  I scoop Spike up in my arms and run back to BLT where Bridget awaits us.

I plop into my camp chair, Spike’s leash held tightly in hand.  “Gee, Spike, you almost got it.”  I’m stunned by the closeness of the call.  “Thank you, Jesus!”  The words come out like a curse, but I’m truly grateful my sweet boy doesn’t have a face full of quills.

A strange clucking sound comes from Porky’s pine tree.

Woodland color

I recognize it immediately.  That’s the sound I heard yesterday!  That must be what a porcupine sounds like.

Another porcupine responds from the area of the evergreen bushes that Spike stuck his nose into yesterday.

Oh good God in heaven.  He’s already had two strikes.  This is not good.

As the porcupines continue clucking back and forth, the situation becomes very clear.

I’ve made our camp in Porcupine Village.

Ever since we arrived yesterday morning, the crew has been roaming around our campsite, unrestrained, while two porcupines have been hunkering around our home!

This changes everything.

On the road again to a new camp!

We can’t stay here.  Spike knows where they are and he’s not going to forget about them. 

Son of a gun.  I’ve been on the look-out for squirrels, chipmunks, birds, turkeys, rabbits, opossums, skunks, snakes, coyotes, cattle and even mountain lions.  I forgot about porcupines!

Now I know two reasons to move camp.

People and porcupines.

rvsue

Forest Road 292 makes a right angle at an intersection. I went in the wrong direction!

P.S.  I forgot to tell you about the obstacle we encountered on the way to our new camp. . . a tree across the road!

It took some tight maneuvering between trees and soft spots, but we finally got turned around.  Fortunately, we were on the wrong road anyway, so there was a clear road away from Crazy Jug Point.

Gosh, am I having fun or what!

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Do what you really want to do

Posted on May 24, 2012 by

The crew and I have just arrived at Crazy Jug Point.

What? Scratches on the Perfect Tow Vehicle?

Thin, brown, horizontal lines on both sides of the PTV make my heart skip a beat.  I run my finger from a side window downward and the stripes wipe off.   What a relief!  It’s only dirt. These marks will wash right off.   Well, I guess the PTV has earned her stripes!

Bridget, Spike and I are going to find a lookout point to enjoy the Canyon. 

I carefully walk down the short path.  I’ve got the crew on short leash by my side.  What a thrill to actually be here!  To be honest, I am a little uncomfortable with heights, especially when there’s nothing between us and the canyon bottom but a few spindly bushes and a lot of air.  The crew and I walk down the dirt path and the ledge comes into view.  Oh. My. Gosh.  I cannot believe what I see.  Incredible! Absolutely incredible!

I’m not talking about the Canyon.

Let me set this up for you.  The path is less than six feet wide.  At the end of it is a slab of rock jutting out over the canyon.  There are no human “improvements” out here.  In other words, that ledge was put here through natural forces, so it follows that natural forces could remove it at any time.  Okay.  I admit that’s unlikely to happen at this very moment.  Anyway.  How big is the ledge?   Oh, imagine a small SUV.  Then allow about two, three feet all around it.  That’s the ledge.

Like I said, I stand in shock.

Perched on that ledge actually IS a small SUV!  A camp chair and a bucket sit next to the bumper.  What kind of an idiot would drive a car down here!  And sleep here overnight!   With the front bumper at the edge!

My concern for the driver of the SUV soon fades.

What a selfish idiot to hog the overlook like this.  I walk toward the ledge and peek through the bushes and the SUV.

“Well, gang, let’s go over to the other ledge.”  We go back up and descend the other path.  It’s too steep and too near the edge. Bridget’s liable to panic and pull us all over the side.  I’ll come back here in the morning by myself.  I manage to take a photo, but it’s a hazy day.  Tomorrow will be better.

A photo taken on a precarious path

Now, where to set up camp?

I look around and realize the only possibility is in the road.   The road makes a figure eight.  This spot will not block anyone from turning around to leave the point.  It’s not a nice campsite, but there’s no other choice even close to level.  The ground is black powder that sticks.  The truth is . . . Crazy Jug point is tired and trampled.  Apparently a lot of people have come out here over the years.  Well, it’s somewhere to sleep.

I’m chocking the wheels when I hear the voice of a young man and the giggles of a young girl.

Hmm . . . Young lovers.  Better not take the crew walking in that direction of the forest. 

Once camp is set up, the crew and I walk back up the road.  We pass a person coming from the other direction.  Further on we walk down a narrow road and discover another beautiful overlook.  A mini-van is parked in front of it along with two camp chairs.  Geesh, people everywhere!  No one is around so I walk us over to the chairs and look at the Canyon for a few minutes.

We return to camp and notice another car is parked by the path to the other ledge. 

Later, while we’re back inside the BLT, a Class C comes roaring in, stops for about three minutes (during which a man and a woman exchange harsh words), and then bumpity-scumps back into the forest again.

The crew and I love our morning walks, wherever we may be.

Gee, I’m exhausted. 

I broke camp, dumped tanks, got water and gas, drove from Lee’s Ferry to Jacob Lake, stopped at the visitor center, carried us deep into the Kaibab Forest some forty miles to Crazy Jug Point, and set up a new camp, all in one day . . . 

Wow, I did it!  We’re here!  And without a scratch!

Only there’s one problem . . .  Although this campsite is less than eighty feet from the Canyon — a piece of real estate worth a fortune — it, quite frankly, sucks.

The next morning . . .

I drink my coffee while walking around the area, peeking at the Canyon through the bushes and trees.  I try going down to the ledge but only make it half the way.  Too scary.  Bridget and Spike are too excited to eat their breakfast.  I down a glass of fat-free milk with oat bran stirred in.  Off we go on a walk to find a new campsite.

We head down a road that parallels the Rim.

The Rim is to our left behind the trees.

Several feet of trees block any view of it.  After walking quite far, I hear voices.  About eight or nine people are camped up ahead on the Rim side of the road.  I’m in no mood for conversation.  

It sounds like they’re packing up, so we’ll wait here under these pine trees.

A fire ring and tamped ground reveals I’m in a popular campsite.

As I’m standing here with the crew, I see a man’s bare behind.

He’s pulling up his pants over by some bushes.  Oh great, didn’t need to collect that memory.  Not more than two minutes later, a young woman is pushing her way through the bushes, toilet paper in hand.  Good golly, I’ve had enough.  I don’t care if these people are camped there, we’re going over there and check out the view.  As we leave the piney area, I notice some toilet paper on the ground.  Yuck!

We approach the noisy group.

Their campsite is close to the Rim.  I decide to play the role of weird, old lady in the crazy hat who doesn’t look at or speak to people.  The walking stick is the perfect prop.

The door of their van reads Washington State.  Must be geology students.  A woman, not much older than the rest, is reading off safety instructions for a hike.  The crew and I walk past the group right into their campsite, and stand in front of a marvelous, unobstructed view of the Canyon.

Grand Canyon as captured by my cheap little digital camera.

After a few moments, we leave and continue walking up the road. 

A few minutes later they leave and we return to their site.   I guess this site is open.  They left no belongings.  I take a close look at the site.  It’s all beaten down and very close to the precipice.   I imagine Spike charging over the side.  And when I walk the crew in the forest, we’ll be walking around human feces.

I realize I really don’t want to be here.

Too many people, too much pooping.  I think I’m forcing myself to find a Canyon view camp.  I’m doing what I think I should be doing, not what I really want to do.  What I really want to do is go back to where the aspens grow among the pine trees and find a secluded site.

That’s it!  We’re moving camp!

rvsue

5/11/12 . . . $65.52 for 17.71 gal. of gas at $3.69 a gal., $45.31 for oil change and chassis lube, $6.56 clothing
5/12/12 . . . 0$
5/13/12 . . . 0$
5/14/12 . . . $30.36 for groceries, $8.00 laundry
5/15/12 . . . $38.30 for hat, $18.00 for haircut including tip
5/16/12 . . . $27.51 for groceries, $22.17 for 6.109 gal. gas at $3.62 a gal., $2.23 for boards
5/17/12 . . . $0
5/18/12 . . . $0
5/19/12 . . . $19.35 for 4.62 gal. gas at 4.18 a gal., $13.99 for Kaibab National Forest map
5/20/12 . . .$0
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Crazy Jug Point overlooking the Grand Canyon!

Posted on May 21, 2012 by

Saturday, May 19

Today is going to be an exciting day.  The crew and I are leaving Lee’s Ferry campground and the Colorado River this morning.  Our goal is to travel west and find a boondock camp in Kaibab National Forest, not far from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

We need to take on some water.

Both the house tank and the drinking water jugs are near empty.  Up on a bluff overlooking the boat activity on the river is the dump and water station.  Never pass up an opportunity for a free dump!  I use the potable water hose to fill up twelve gallon jugs and the BLT’s twenty-five gallon tank.  I bid the Colorado a fond farewell, take a few parting photos, and hit the road.

I stop at the Chevron station, one of a very few stations for miles around.

There’s a commotion going on as I enter.   Only a few moments before, a man saw a condor in flight.  He and the cashier are still excited.  Darn!  I missed it!

I’m about to experience a day trip I’ll remember forever.

In the age we live in, you can’t see a natural wonder without having seen it before in a magazine, television, movie, whatever.  Still, seeing the Vermillion Cliffs is an experience no one should miss.   I stop and take several photos along Highway 89A.  We cross a desert valley and then start the ascent to the Kaibab National Forest.  The Perfect Tow Vehicle is in fine form this morning, and I’m feeling confident we won’t have any problems.

We round a curve and see several cars off the highway at an overlook.

Good.  I want to see this and it’ll give the PTV a rest.  The view is of the desert and the cliffs.  I can see the highway we just travelled.  I wish I had a monocular!  Of course, I take more photos.

The PTV takes us on a magnificent ride to over 8,000 feet in altitude.

The Jacob Lake Lodge/Restaurant  greets you at the intersection of Highways 87 and 67, the latter road being the way to the North Rim.  Alongside it is the Visitor’s Center.  I want to get one of their maps.  Now if I can find somewhere to park.   People have parked willy-nilly, making it difficult to find a place.  I make the quick decision to park halfway into the exit lane.  Too bad, people.  Deal with it.  I’m on a mission for a map.

The crew needs a walk-around.

Bridget and Spike are so cute when they arrive at a new locale.  And this definitely is new to us!  We’re back in the pines again.  No more 100+ degree heat of the desert.  The air is cool and fresh.  Sniffs and poops over, I throw the crew back into the PTV.

Two female Park Service employees are behind the counter.

I’m happy to hear the Kaibab has not instituted the 30 feet/300 feet regulations yet.  I ask about camping possibilities on the forest roads.  She ignores the words “forest roads” and suggests Demotte Campground which is between here and the Canyon.

“How much is it a night?” I ask out of curiosity.

“It’s $17.50, unless you have the Senior Pass.  Then it’s half that.  No hook-ups.  There’s water and restrooms. “

“I want to camp in the area of Crazy Jug Point.”

We locate it on a map displayed under plexiglass on the counter.  The young woman shows me what series of forest roads to take.  “Take 22 just past Demotte, then 495, then 292.”  I look at the key and figure it’s about 40 miles winding through the forest.

The older lady points out those roads require a high-clearance vehicle.  I tell her I have a high-clearance vehicle.  She points out the roads are gravel and very bumpy.  Hmm . . . You don’t know rvsue! 

I buy a Kaibab National Forest map and apologize for my many questions.

The older lady responds cheerfully, “Oh, that’s nothing.  You should have seen the two guys in here before.  We talked with them for about an hour.”  Both of them are smiling real smiles.  It’s nice to meet people who enjoy their work.

The crew and I go south on Highway 67 toward the North Rim.

I hadn’t intended to go far today, but I’m in the mood for this challenge.   At Crazy Jug Point  I’ll see the Canyon for the first time!  Turns out the road is better than expected and the drive is fairly easy.  I thrill to see aspens along the way, mixed with the pines, and eventually blue spruce, too.   It’s a long drive.

The last ten miles or so the road gets really bad.

It’s narrow dirt, and the ridge in the center is so high, I drive with the left wheels on it.  Branches and brush squeak along the side of the PTV as I ease her along.  At one point I imagine I come around a curve and see a huge tree lying across the roadway and I can’t turn around and I can’t back up.  Stop it!  Don’t think negative thoughts.  We’re almost there.

At last we can go no further.

I jump out and hurry over to the opening in the trees.  There it is!  The grandest canyon of them all!  I stand still for a moment, taking in the wonder.

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The PTV is parked about fifteen feet from the precipice.  My crew wants out.  Time to set up camp!

rvsue     

Boondocked in the Kaibab National Forest, I have no cell phone signal or internet.  I am writing and will eventually post an entry for each day.  This entry was posted while sitting in the parking lot of the Grand Canyon Lodge at the North Rim.  Photos will not load at this location.  I’ll insert a slideshow here at a later date.  I have so many photos!  

From here I return to camp where again I have no phone or internet.  I hope to move tomorrow to an area where I can be online!

UPDATE:  I am trying to insert a slideshow as I sit in the PTV with the crew in a grocery store parking lot in Kanab, Utah.  The photos may be out of order.  They include Lee’s Ferry, Vermillion Cliffs, overlook from Kaibab Plateau, Jacob Lake, and the gravel road as we start our journey into the National Forest.  The Canyon photos were taken from Crazy Jug Point.  It was a hazy day.

 

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The Colorado River up close

Posted on May 18, 2012 by

Second day at Lee’s Ferry campground . . .  

I suppose I should keep up appearances since I’m in a campground with people in it. It’s 6:15 a.m. and the crew needs to be walked.  Oh, what the heck.  I’ll just pull on a pair of pants under this nightshirt.

Usually this early in the morning Bridget and Spike want to get their business over with quickly so they can crawl back into bed.  Not this morning.  Not when I’m in my nightshirt.  I can tell they want to make the complete campground loop, and I’m not going to go back to get dressed.  Whatever.  This is camping.

Up at the other end of the campground, I meet Jim.

He and his wife, Alice, are camped in a Casita.  We talk for quite a while, so long that the crew settles down for a rest at my feet.

Jim says, “We’re leaving in a few minutes.  We’ve had enough of this heat and wind.  It was one hundred yesterday. ..  hundred degree heat and hundred mile per hour wind.”

“I think I’ll stay another day and give it time to settle down,” I remark.  “I’m hesitant to drive in wind like this.”

“You’ll spend the rest of your life here then.  This canyon is always windy.”

I tell Jim my next stop is Jacob’s Lake. 

“Oh you’ll like it there.  It’s jacket weather.”

Alice comes out and we introduce ourselves.  I can see they are all packed and ready to hit the road, so I say goodbye and the crew and I move on.  I throw two poop bags (mission accomplished!) in the dumpster.  Jim and Alice pull their Casita down to our neighbor’s site.  They‘re saying goodbye to Casita friends, Konrad and Lynn.  I try to photograph the three Casitas together in spite of an uncooperative morning sun positioned in the wrong place.

Around 8:30 Gaelyn arrives as expected. 

We sit inside the BLT, out of the wind.  Being fellow bloggers (www.geogypsytraveler.com), we have a lot to talk about.  Gaelyn works six months for the Park Service at the North Rim, so we have even more to talk about.  She shares information that will help me find my next boondock.  I met Gaelyn for the first time when camped south of Congress, Arizona.  It’s good to see her again.

Around noon the crew and I hike down the path to the river.

Spike takes a dip, of course, even though the water is very cold.  I have a great time taking photos. Spike is a cooperative little model, as usual.  Today Bridget doesn’t bother being camera-shy and lets me snap a few of her, too.

Walking the beach, we approach a man and his son.  The man has caught a rainbow trout, a little less than 14 inches.  It’s his third today.  “You aren’t allowed to keep ‘em if they’re over 14 inches.  It’s called a slot limit. This one is just right.”

“I’ve never heard of a slot limit before,” I comment.

“It’s so trophy fish can grow.  If you catch something big, you have to throw it back.”

This regulation doesn’t seem to be hampering his enjoyment, or that of his son who apparently is in charge of the net.  The father pulls the fish out of the net and holds it so I can take a photo.

Walking the beach is so peaceful. 

A few people are here, not many.  I watch Bridget and Spike investigate like little kids.  The wind and the river make the temperature comfortable.  I sit on a rock ledge that hangs over the river’s edge and dangle my feet in the water.  For about fifteen seconds.  It’s like ice!

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rvsue

Lee’s Ferry is a National Park Service campground.  The nightly fee is $12, or $6 with Senior Pass.  No reservations are taken.  There are several pull-throughs and back-ins.  They look like they are reasonably level.  A few trees.  The sites have a picnic table and a curved structure that’s supposed to block the wind.  Several sites have a view of the river.  The others are near a massive rock formation.  Restrooms.  No showers.  No hook-ups.  The boat launch is nearby.  This is a popular spot with fly fishermen . . . er, fisherpeople.  It’s a photographer’s paradise.

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Breathtaking trip to Lee’s Ferry, Arizona

Posted on May 17, 2012 by

Wednesday evening, May 16

I don’t like the Best Little Trailer to arrive messy at a new camp.  So this evening I’m tidying up and making sure all the dishes are done and put away. It’s nearly dark as I walk out to the slope that drops off several feet from our campsite.  I bend down to knock the percolator’s strainer on a rock to dislodge the coffee grounds.  As I stand up, I see a pronghorn antelope at the bottom of the slope.

My noise brings her gaze up to me.

A few precious moments later, she lowers her head and continues grazing.  This has been a good camp.  I’ll never forget the cool mornings with the fresh breeze, and the birds floating on the thermals, as I sat here looking out over the pine tops to the desert.

Bridget and Spike start bickering in the BLT.

Spike barks and I know what he’s saying, “Get out of my bed, Bridget.”  Then Bridget replies with a whiny snarl, “No, it’s MY bed and you can’t have it.”  Back and forth they go.  The antelope hears, turns and bounds away.  Well, isn’t that a perfect goodbye from this special place.

Thursday morning, May 17

I’m bustling around at seven.  The crew is still asleep.  I fold up the patio mat, bungee it, and put it in the PTV.  A quick coffee and blog time, followed by oat bran in milk, and I’m ready to hitch up and get going!  Bridget and Spike sense something’s up and ease out of the covers.  Soon I’m pushing the “tow” button on the dash of the PTV!  We’re off to an entirely new world!

Over the first rise, I spot Gail on my side of the lane. 

How sweet.  She’s been standing there, waiting to say goodbye.  Ken comes out a minute later.  After a brief chat, I move on.  Ken hollers, “Be sure and call me and let me know how the diet works out!”  I can see the two of them in my mirror, watching us drive away to another adventure. . . . . Two gentle souls encountered on the journey of my life.

How do I describe the trip from Flagstaff to Lee’s Ferry?

I don’t think I can come close to conveying the beauty and magnitude of the cliffs, dunes, and overall landscape.  I stop several times to take photos and to let Bridget and Spike walk around.  I’ll be lucky to capture a portion of this magnificence.

We park at a turn-out in front of a massive, red, striated cliff. 

Flat desert dotted with green lies before us.  I notice three sheep running.  Why are they running?  I couldn’t have frightened them way up here.  Then I see the complete story.  Down below next to a tiny house, a young boy has arrived home and is running toward the fence.  The sheep are running toward him. This happens in front of that incredible, natural backdrop.   At that moment the beauty of what I’m seeing overwhelms me.

Truth be known, looking back on my life, great stretches of it were pretty crappy.

Nothing seemed to go right.  I don’t know how or why I’ve been transported to this place of beauty and contentment.  The contrast between the present and the past is more than my heart can take.  I get back in the PTV and start her up.  Very shortly we turn onto 89A and I see a sign, “Vermillion Scenic Highway.”  At every turn in the road, at every crest, I try to absorb the colors, dramatic shapes, and the panorama. It’s simply impossible.

We arrive at Navajo Bridge. 

I wipe the tears from my cheeks before stepping out of the PTV to join the tourists at the bridge.  Navajo (I presume) ladies are selling jewelry and dream catchers.  I take a few photos of the Colorado River and the bridge, but by now the sun is getting high, it’s near noon, and it’s extremely hot.  Bridget and Spike have been excellent travellers.  I can’t expect them to stay good much longer.

I want to find the campground and set up.

A few miles down into Glen Canyon, we arrive!  I’ll tell you more about our camp tomorrow.  For now, here are some photos.  Of course, they’re a shabby imitation of the real thing.  Some were taken through a dirty windshield.  The most stunning scenes of all mesmerized me, so I didn’t stop, wanting to enjoy the experience.

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What a place!  Later the crew and I will see the Colorado up close!

rvsue

P.S.  I apologize if the slideshow is too much for you to load.  I can’t help but include this record of our trip to Lee’s Ferry.

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Getting ready to break camp and move northward

Posted on May 16, 2012 by

I’ve put this off long enough!

This isn’t the half of it!

I’m tired of stepping through the portal to hell whenever I want to retrieve something from the back of the PTV.  It’s a tangled mess back there.  Sand and dust all over everything, all signs of organization gone.

Once we come down off this bluff near Flagstaff, the crew and I are driving into summer.

If the wind isn’t too bad, we leave in the morning for Lee’s Ferry on the Colorado River.  Just like in a regular house, the winter clothes need to be put away and the summer clothes brought out.  I choose what clothes and shoes I want inside the BLT and the rest go into a box in the PTV where I can access them, like a closet.  The winter stuff is positioned in the deep recesses of the PTV’s cargo area.

I need to dig out the inflatable canoe.

It’s a two-seat canoe and weighs about fifty pounds.  It’s been buried under storage boxes directly behind the bench seat.  I pull the canoe up over the seat and find it fits nicely between the bench seat and the iron grate behind the driver’s seat. This is great!  It will be easy to get the canoe whenever the crew and I come upon an opportunity to go out on some water.  I also bungee the canoe seats and life jackets to the grate and hang a tote bag there. It holds various things for boating, like water shoes, rope, etc.  Life is easier if things are packed according to category.  All the canoe stuff is behind the driver’s seat, even the Coleman air pump that inflates the canoe.

As time goes by, I find better ways to pack my gear.

Now I have plenty of room right inside the back doors for one large, plastic storage box devoted to garbage and trash.  I can seal up the stink and not have to smell it for weeks at a time like I did recently!

Somehow in the middle of cleaning out and repacking the PTV, I decide to clean the bathroom!  I wonder if all this energy is coming from the diet. It’s Day Four and energy is supposed to rise. Tomorrow will be the last day of the first phase (eating high protein, low fat, exclusively).

The crew and I go into Flagstaff to prepare for our drive up to Lee’s Ferry.

First I stop at Petco to get Bridget a personal flotation device.  They don’t have any.  In the same shopping area is a Home Depot.  I run in and ask where the leftover lumber is.  I find a nice piece of 2×10.  I ask the Home Depot guy to cut off the split part which leaves me a four foot board.  Unfortunately the only other decent pieces are not as wide, but they’ll do.  I pick up three of those, each slightly shorter than the 2×10 piece.

Why the rush to buy lumber?

Camper reviews of the Lee’s Ferry campground mention the sites are not very level.  All I have are some little, plastic, pretend, leveling blocks.  They don’t help much.  These planks should do the trick.

After topping off the gas tank, we stop at Safeway.

Since I’ll be going into the second stage of my diet this weekend, I stock up on frozen veggies, plus a few fresh items.  I have a good supply of no-salt canned vegetables back at the BLT.  The second phase is alternating lean protein days with vegetables and lean protein days.  I’ve learned to enjoy a breakfast every morning of fat-free milk with oat bran stirred in.  I switched from Chobani Greek yogurt to Fage (pronounced Fah- yeh) Greek yogurt.  It still has 23 grams of protein per cup but a lot less sodium (85 grams) than Chobani.  I like the taste better, too.

Okay, enough diet talk!

Bridget, Spike and I enjoyed this camp high up in the Coconino National Forest northeast of Flagstaff.  In the short time we’ve been here, everything has become drier and dustier.  Forest fires are breaking out in Arizona.  I’m looking forward to a camp near water.   I know Spike will like that, too.  And Bridget, well, she’s happy when we’re happy, bless her heart.

Wow!  If all goes according to plan . . . tomorrow I’ll see the Colorado River for the first time!

rvsue

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Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument, Arizona

Posted on May 15, 2012 by

I’m way overdue for a haircut.

After washing my hair and giving myself a facial in my outdoor salon overlooking a ponderosa forest and the Painted Desert, the crew and I set out for Great Clips in Flagstaff.  I’m looking forward to nixing the ponytail look, and having my standard haircut restored.  The young woman does a good job and I’m out of there in a short time.

In the same strip mall, there’s a boot store.

Hmmm . . .  I bet they sell hats, too.  I promise the crew “I’ll be right back” and go inside the store.  Great, they have quite a few hats.  I start trying them on and by the third hat, I’ve found the one I want.  It’s lightweight, woven straw, good for the summer months, and it feels good on my head.  Wow!  A haircut and a new hat, both in the same morning!  I’m feeling good.

I’m tempted to stop at the thrift store, but the crew can only take so much sitting in the PTV.

And I want to take us to Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument on the way back to camp.  The lady at the entrance booth checks my Senior Pass against my driver’s license and allows me in free.  I stop at the Visitor Center.

This turns out to be an embarrassing experience. 

Bridget and Spike in the PTV throw a major, canine fit and can be heard quite clearly through the open door of the visitor center.  First they bark frantically, and, when that doesn’t get results, they ramp it up to full-howl.  People in the visitor center are taking notice, some showing concern.

I announce to the group.   “Don’t worry, folks.  It’s only an act.  Believe me, I know.”  They smile.  One lady remarks, “Oh, those are YOUR dogs.”

As you can imagine, this doesn’t help me concentrate on 3D models of geologic processes.

After a few minutes I give up and go back to the PTV.  Immediately the howls of pain stop and the PTV slinks us out of the parking area.  I decide we aren’t going to travel the complete 34-mile scenic route.  If you’ve ever travelled with overtired kids, you can understand my decision.  Our goal is the lava overlook not far up the road.

The photos in the slideshow don’t portray the immensity of the lava field.

It’s the kind of thing a person finds dull as in “Okay, we’ve seen the ugly, black rocks.  Let’s go.”  Or a person finds them utterly fascinating.  I lean toward fascinating as the size of the area alone is stunning.  I don’t have more photos because the sign along the road said, “No stopping in road.”  I’m not going to get all geologic on you, mainly because I’d mess it up.  You can do a search of Sunset Crater if you want to learn some earth science.

On the way out, I drive us into Bonito Campground ($18 a night/half-price with senior pass).  I take several photos.   A variety of rigs are camped there, including a Casita.

On the way back to camp, I pass Ken’s campsite again.

The guy who was chewing his ear off when I drove by this morning is still there!  Ken smiles and motions with his hand to his head, acknowledging my haircut.  The guy keeps talking, doesn’t skip a beat.  Poor Ken!   The other day the same guy was yakking at Gail for about four hours.  God help him if he comes around my campsite!

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rvsue

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A ranger visit, the mother of all laundries, and stealth garbage disposal

Posted on May 14, 2012 by

Sunday afternoon, May 13

The white Coconino National Forest pick-up truck pulls up to our campsite.  I jump out of the BLT to greet the ranger, a young woman in her twenties wearing a tan uniform.  We say hello and she holds out a map.  “Do you have one of these?” she asks.

“Yes, I do, thank you.”

She then explains she is going around answering any questions people might have about the new rules for camping within 300 feet from the road in dispersed areas and within 30 on campground roads.  (You tell the difference by reading the symbols on the map.)

The ranger looks at the BLT. 

“You actually are further than 30 feet from the road.  I’m going to let it go because the rules are new.”

I thank her for that and ask her how far 30 feet is.  She walks 12 paces which must be her stride’s equivalent of 30 feet.  She stops at the spare tire mounted at the back of the BLT.  “See, you aren’t very far over.”

The Best Little Trailer NOT in the best position!

What a personable ranger!

I mention I’m going to the north Kaibab Forest (Jacob Lake) and she becomes animated.  “I love it up there!  It’s beautiful!  You won’t believe it!  And when you get to the little town of Jacob Lake, there’s a store right there.  They sell the best chocolate chip cookies.  You have to get some.”

“Oh no!  I just started a diet!” I exclaim, backing up.

Laughing at my response, she’s goes on about how I have to stop in Cameron, too, and eat a Navajo taco.  She explains it in detail, right down to the fluffy taco shell.  Hmmm  . . . This diet really works.  I’m not the least bit tempted.

Monday morning, May 14

I wake up feeling great.  This is an important fact because the first morning after starting my diet, I woke up feeling miserable.  My head was stuffed up and I had a headache.  I wasn’t surprised.  Eating all that Greek yogurt is the reason.  Too much dairy gives me a headache.  A cup of coffee and sitting in the cool morning breeze helped clear my head and I was fine in a short while.

I went easy on the yogurt yesterday and no headache this morning.

Okay.  Let’s stop right here so I can say something about all this diet talk.  If it bores you to no end, hang in there.  I’m not going to turn this into rvsue on a diet and her canine crew. I do think, though, some readers are interested in this.

I don’t feel like I’m on a diet!

I haven’t felt hungry.  I haven’t felt deprived.  I didn’t writhe in agony longing for a bag of potato chips or half a carton of ice cream.  I feel great!  Although Dr. Dukan advises one might experience fatigue in the beginning, I’m full of energy.  I hadn’t realized how sluggish I’d become.

The best part of all?  No yo-yo sugar levels. 

My old way of eating had me worried when I took the crew on hikes.   I’d forget to bring candy with me.  What if I have a low blood sugar attack, out here in the forest?  Since I’m not eating carbs and sweets, I don’t feel those up-and-down energy swings.

Snow-capped mountains seen from the campground road.

The crew and I are going into Flagstaff this morning.

I was going to visit Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument on Mother’s Day.  It was terribly windy, so I stayed home.  I feel like accomplishing something, so we’re going to the laundromat.

Loaded up with dirty laundry and the crew, I drive the PTV up the lane to Ken’s campsite.

He’s sitting outside with Scooter the Attack Lab. “I’m going to the laundry.  Do you need anything in town?”  I look around for Gail so I can ask her, too, but there’s no sign of her.

“No, I’m good.”  He pauses.  “I’m going to need to go to the laundry soon, too.”

“You can come with me.  I’ll wait.  What do you do . . .  drive your rig (a Class C) in?”

“No, I ride my motorcycle.  I put the laundry in my backpack, and then I don’t dry it.  I bring it back home and dry it here.”

“Oh.  There isn’t a backpack large enough to hold all my wash.”

He laughs and waves me on.

I find the laundry.  Let me restate that.  I find the Super-Duper Laundry.  I leave the crew in the PTV.

Wow!  This is the mother of all laundries!

I see row upon row of brand new washers and driers and even a small arcade for the kiddies (who, of course, do not help with the laundry and therefore need to be provided entertainment.).

I like some wordplay while I do laundry.

Quickly I get twenty dollars’ worth of change out of the machine. 

When you find one that works, you go for broke!  So many quarters clang down that I feel like I’m playing the slots.  I load up the machines and return to the crew.  We take a little walk around to the grassy spot alongside the strip mall.  I give them a drink and back in the PTV they go.

It’s a sunny day, yet there’s a good breeze, so they’re comfortable in the PTV with windows down a bit.   Spike settles down for a nap.  He knows the drill.  I go back inside.  I see Bridget out in the PTV looking at me with The Pathetic Stare That Pierces Plate Glass.

The laundry done, Bridget squeals with delight and we take off for Safeway.

I’m on a stealth mission.  I’ve been carrying around stinking garbage for several weeks now.  Thank God for Febreeze.  Everywhere I go there is a big sign on the dumpsters, “Not for public use.  $500 fine. Go away, you transient.”  However, Safeway, like Wal-Mart, has conveniently placed waste barrels throughout its parking lot.

These barrels say, “Feed me, you wonderful customer!” 

On the way into the store to pick up a few more diet items, I dump a bag of garbage.  When I come out, I grab another bag out of the PTVand stuff it into another barrel.

Then I drive over to the water dispensers.

When I carry the empty jugs to the machine, I drop another bag of garbage in another trash can.  See how this works?  Hey, ya do whatcha gotta do.  On the way out of the parking lot, I stop and – you guessed it! – I stuff another bag into another trash barrel.  Thank you, Safeway!  May your lettuce never go limp and your bananas forever be yellow!

I think part of what makes living like this fun is the day-to-day challenge of taking care of me and my crew. 

New pines for the forest of tomorrow!

I go to a new location.  Where do we camp?  Do we have enough propane? Who will change the oil in the PTV?  Where do I get water?  How do I get rid of garbage?  Where’s the nearest laundromat?

This stuff would be a bore if I were living in a regular house.  I’d be following the same roads and the same routines.

My vagabond life is one of constant change.  I love that.

rvsue

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Remembering mothers

Posted on May 13, 2012 by

Hello!

I’m taking a break from blog-writing today.  Instead, I turn it over to you.  

Feel free to share a good memory of your mother.

~ ~ Happy Mother’s Day from rvsue and her canine crew ~ ~

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I’ll have a bowl of cement, thank you.

Posted on May 12, 2012 by

Saturday morning, May 12

Well, it’s Day One here at Diet Central.  I finish my coffee laced with Stevia and fat-free milk.  Okay, time to try the Greek yogurt.  I scoop about a cup into my coral-colored plastic bowl.  Presentation is important when trying a new food.

I measure a tablespoon and a half of oat bran and drop that alongside the yogurt.  It’s another sunny day, so as usual I take my breakfast outside and sit in the camp chair.  Spike and Bridget follow me out and lie down on the patio mat to bask in the sun.

I take my first spoonful of yogurt.

Hmmm . . . not too bad.  I mix a little oat bran in with the yogurt and try that.  Okay.  So far, so good.   I go ahead and stir all the bran into the yogurt and commence eating my breakfast while enjoying the mountain view.  After about three spoonfuls, I notice a growing sensation of fullness.  Another spoonful and I feel like I’ve eaten a bag of cement.  Man!  This stuff fills you up!  Undaunted, I soldier on.

Meanwhile Spike has a problem.

A fly wants to land on the open wound on Spike’s back.  Spike whips his head around, first one way and then the other, to keep the pesky fly off.  He gets fed up and, in a flash, leaps through the open doorway of the BLT.  I laugh because I know his solution is “to heck with it.  I’m going back to bed.”

I continue to shovel in the cement.

Gee, maybe next time I’m at a dollar store I need to pick up a trowel! I’m only halfway through the bowl of yogurt and bran and I feel like I’ve eaten four meatball sub sandwiches.  Not that I’ve ever done that, mind you.  Somehow I force myself to swallow the last of it. 

Nevertheless I remain optimistic about the diet!

Later, when Spike finally gets out of bed, the three of us will take our morning walk.  The Dukan diet requires you walk at least twenty minutes a day.  That’s easy for the crew and me.  We’ve been doing more than that for months.

Saturday afternoon, May 12

The crew and I stay around camp. Bridget and Spike are worn out from our morning walk which was a long grade downhill and then a longer grade back up.  I’ve got a load of dishes to wash sitting in a dishpan by the front door.  It saves water to let the dishes collect and then wash them all at once.  I like to do that sitting outside, drying as I go.  I finish that and go online.  I try to catch up on reading other people’s blogs.  I apply warm compresses to Spike’s boo-boo, and sit in the shade with a tall glass of water.  The diet says to drink 1.5 liters of water daily.  That’s easy for me to do.

I’m hit with hunger around two o’clock.

The diet says “Eat all you want!” so I eat a boatload of deli turkey, sharing with the crew.  Well, this should hold me for a while!  The rest of the afternoon I putter around the BLT and listen to the radio on my computer.  Around 5:30 I grill several chicken breasts, have one for supper, and put the rest in zip-lock bags for future meals.

Right before sunset we walk the road up to the peak.

Ken told me there’s a gorgeous view from up there.  It’s quite a climb for the crew and me, but they’re game for it.  At this time of day, a cool breeze blows and that helps us to keep going.  We finally make it to the top and the view is worth it.  I try to capture it in a photo.

I think tomorrow we’ll go over to Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument. 

Dogs aren’t allowed on the trails, but there’s a scenic drive, overlooks, and a visitor’s center.   I’ve heard they have good maps there.  I hope to score some.

Most of the photos were taken on our morning walk.  You can see fire damage to the trees.  Most importantly, if you look closely, you’ll see a photo of the crew that features Spike’s war wound.   

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rvsue

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