A new camp puts us on the right side of the law

Posted on May 4, 2012 by

Most of the campsites at Willard Springs are more than 300 feet from the road.

Overnight I decide we will move our camp.

The crew and I are walking this morning with a purpose.  Our mission?  To find a new campsite that conforms to Coconino National Forest camping rules and, equally important, that is beautiful.

We see a place near Gail’s rig and Ken’s rig.

No, I’ll have to worry about Spike bothering them.  Anyway I want us off by ourselves.

A short walk up the road, we find the perfect spot.

It has the most important features:  a level site, sunshine for the panel, shade for sitting outside, a feeling of seclusion, natural beauty, and it’s within 300 feet of the road.  There’s a small pond, which is really a ditch full of water.  The water isn’t stagnant and birds come and go.  It’s pretty, surrounded by pines.  Hmmm… maybe I’ll see some wildlife stopping by here for a drink.  It occurs to me that there’s a rule against camping near a water source for animals.  I think I’m okay here because it’s a temporary collection of water created by recent rain.

Second campsite at Willard Springs

As soon as our new camp is set up, I pour a glass of iced tea and put the lounger next to “our” pond.

Three robins are dipping their beaks in the water.  At first I suppose they’re getting a drink, but, no, they’re up to something.  Are they looking for worms in the water?  Soon I get my answer as one of the robins flies to a low pine branch, her beak full of dripping wet, muddy grass.  Apparently our pond is a good source for nest-building materials.  Already I like it here!

So does Spike, of course.

Spike: “At last, waterfront property!”

“Don’t bother me. I’m soaking.”

The stress melts away . . .

Bridget likes any place where I am.

Bridget: “Are we going to live here now?”

When Spike is happy, he licks Bridget’s ears.

A few minutes later Gail comes up the road in her Class A motorhome.

She stops and rolls down her window as I’m waving to her.  “I’m not leaving.  I’m going into town to do laundry,” she explains. “What’d you do?  Move here to be within 300 feet?”

“Yeah.  It’s a nice spot.  The lane finally dried out enough so I could pull in here.”

Gail’s motorhome’s engine is running so I cut our conversation short. 

. . . and away she goes!

“Don’t use up your gas talking to me now.  Stop by sometime and we’ll talk.”

Gail agrees, of course, rolls up her window, and heads up the road.  I take a quick photo.

Motorhomes are nice for many reasons, but I wouldn’t want to drive a big home like that to the laundromat.  Oh well, every type rig has its pros and cons. 

This afternoon the crew and I motor on down to Munds Park.

I stop at the post office and pick up the two soft harnesses for the crew.  Oh, I hope I ordered the right size.  As soon as we’re home, I put them on the crew and they fit! . . . well, a little tight on Bridget, but she’s at her fattest right now.  Little Bridget, you’re such a girl with your weight fluctuations.

Ken and Scooter come over around four and they both approve of our new campsite.

Ken says, “Gee, it’s nice here,” and Scooter plays in the water.  We sit under the pines talking while I peel potatoes.  Before we know it the shadows are long.  Ken leaves to finish walking Scooter and I take the crew inside for their supper.  I open the blinds so I can see our new camp.  I think I like this better than our first camp.  

A new camp is fun, even if it’s close to the last one.

rvsue

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Is our campsite illegal?

Posted on May 3, 2012 by

“New rules announced for the use of motorized vehicles in the forest.”

That’s the statement written on the website for the Coconino National Forest.  Ken, a fellow camper here at Willard Springs, Arizona, dispersed camping area, alerts me to the new rules that went into effect May 1st.

“You know, you’re supposed to camp within 300 feet of the road.”

The road at Willard Springs

“What?” I respond with surprise.

(I’m definitely farther out than 300 feet.)

“I’m in an established campsite.  There’s a fire ring here and a flattened area.”

“Doesn’t matter, ” Ken continues.

“New rules.  Gail looked it up on the internet.  There’s a map which shows what kind of vehicles can go on different forest roads, and what side of the road you can camp on. It says you gotta be within 300 feet of the road.”

“How are people supposed to know?  What if they’re just passing through?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ken says again, with finality.  “You’re supposed to find it on the internet or get one of their maps.”  Ken sees this as just another way people are hassled.

Of course, as soon as Ken leaves, I get online. 

I find an article dated April 30, 2012, at www.azdailysun.com.

“Restrictions on where drivers can and cannot legally travel on the Coconino National Forest begin tomorrow, as part of a national directive to limit off-road driving.

Driving across the forest at large will become illegal, and the forest will  be closing a little more than half of its roads – mainly lesser-used routes  heading to similar destinations . . . .  Car camping is allowed within 30 feet of roads in most of the forest, and within 300 feet in designated areas along another 300 miles of roads.

Paper maps of the new rules are available for free at Coconino National  Forest offices.”

I’m a bit confused by this.

I don’t think I’m “car camping.”  Or is this a term used to differentiate it from “tent camping?”  I’m going to have to do more research.  I’ve mulled this over and searched the National Forest website.  At this point I’ve decided to stay in this campsite.  If a ranger pays me a visit, I’ll beg to be grandfathered in.

One of a few campsites within 300 ft. of the road.

Of course, I have to leave by next Tuesday, May 8th, anyway. 

That will be the end of the fourteen days permitted for a camp in the National Forest.  Geesh.  The simple life isn’t always so simple.

rvsue

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Reminded once again

Posted on May 2, 2012 by

Early this morning the crew and I drive up to Flagstaff. 

I want to pick up a few things at the Wal-Mart Supercenter, including some water.  It’s a cloudy, cold day so the thought of riding in the PTV with the heater on is very appealing.  Bridget and Spike like the idea, too, and are happy to hop up onto the bench seat.

This Wal-Mart has more landscaping than many towns.

Every light post has a sign “No overnight parking” with a graphic of a tow truck.  I spy a trash receptacle in the parking lot so I put the PTV right next to it.  I’ve got a lot of trash and in it goes, out of my life!  Thank you, Wal-Mart!

As I’m getting my purse out of the PTV, a lady who looks to be in her forties walks by. 

“Hi!  What’s that on top of your van?” she asks.

“Oh, that’s a solar panel.”

Before I can explain, she inquires further.

“What’s it for?  So you can heat the inside?”

I explain that I have a travel trailer and the solar panel charges up my batteries so I can have lights and stuff.

She nods her head approvingly.

“Very smart. Very smart.”  As she walks away I think our conversation is over, until she stops and speaks up one more time.

“Say, would you be able to spare a dollar for the bus?”

“Sure, let me see.  I look in my wallet and all I have is a twenty dollar bill.  My change purse is almost full, probably a couple of dollars.

“How’s this?  There should be enough here.”  I pour the change into her hand.

She thanks me and walks off.

Gee, I didn’t see that coming.  Once again I’m reminded how very fortunate I am.

Another day comes to a close at Willard Springs, Arizona

rvsue

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“I hate to say it”

Posted on May 1, 2012 by

Several times in the night, I wake up, lift myself off the bed on one elbow, and peer out the window into the moonlit forest. 

I'm glad I have a shovel for burying fires.

I can barely make out the shapes of the trees, but I know if anything moves, I’ll see it.

Nothing.  How frustrating!

Almost every day I see fresh evidence of deer – their droppings and hoof tracks – all around our campsite.  They’re probably on their way to the nearby pond.  Some of the tracks are big.  Dare I imagine elk are sneaking around the BLT at night?  No, that’s crazy.  Still, I’d like to see what’s making those tracks . . . .

The crew has become jaded by all this natural beauty surrounding us.

“Let’s go for a walk, guys!”

It’s now eleven in the morning.  We haven’t walked because it was so chilly earlier this morning.  Bridget and Spike have been napping for hours.  It’s time to get moving around.

I start us off on a new trail that passes the small pond. 

Tiny white flowers are everywhere.

I’m still within viewing distance of the BLT when I turn around and see that the crew has no intention of going for a walk.

Spike is nosing around Gail’s motorhome and Bridget is staging a sit-in in the middle of the grassy meadow.  She sits there like a mutant blossom surrounded by all the little white flowers.

“C’mon, Bridget!  Don’t you want to walk with me?” I scream across the bucolic scene.

I know better than call Spike.  Once he’s involved in snooping around someone else’s home, there’s no pulling him away.  Bridget sits staring at me.  I can almost hear her saying, “If you want me, come and get me.”

I give up on them and take a short walk by myself.

A new discovery

After a few photos, I turn back toward camp.  I see Spike has investigated Gail’s camp to his satisfaction and is headed back to the BLT.  

Ha!  He thinks we’re home.  Good.  He’ll get what he deserves when he finds out we’re not there.

I cross paths with Bridget who is nonchalantly sniffing grass.

Bridget is on the other side of the pond. Can you see her in the shade?

We head back to camp.  I can hear Spike barking.  He’s infuriated because he thinks I’m inside and I won’t open the door for him!  I hurry across the meadow to shut him up.  He sees Bridget and me come around the back end of the BLT.

I have the last laugh.  “SURPRISE!  You little noodle-head!”

This tickles Spikey so he starts hopping and spinning around in circles.  “Okay, nutcake,” I say as I open the door to the BLT.  “Settle down and get your drink.”

I haven’t seen much of Gail or Ken the past two days.

The last time we spoke Gail was getting over her cold and Ken was doing most of the talking.  Ken’s the kind of guy who says, “I hate to say it” a lot.  For instance, he’ll say, “I hate to say it, but . . .” and then he goes ahead and says it.  This cracks me up so much that my face must turn red listening to him, all the while trying to keep the laugh inside.  It’s particularly inappropriate for me to get the giggles because the stuff he hates to say and says anyway is usually not stuff to laugh at.

“I’ve got New Hampshire plates on my RV and the cops are like,’Hey, what are you doing here?’” Ken bulges his eyes in mock disbelief.  “Um, I’m RVing in my RV, that’s what.  I hate to say it but . . . I’m profiled because of those plates.”

Ken relates an incident that has colored his view of fulltiming in a negative way.

“I hate to say it, but I’m staying out of states like Tennessee, Georgia, Arkansas . . . . “  He trails off and shakes his head, remembering a particular day.  It happened outside a small town in Tennessee . “The cops stopped me.  They say, ‘You were weaving’.  I don’t know what they’re talking about because I was just driving down the road.”

Soon they’re giving Ken a choice.  “Either sign this paper giving us permission to search your RV or we can go through all the court stuff, which will probably take days, and then we’ll search your RV anyway.”

“This is the choice they give me!” Ken exclaims.

“So I sign the paper.  As soon as I sign the paper, like eight squad cars pull up and all these guys jump out.  They go through the drawers, tearing stuff apart, making a mess. They don’t care.  They’re getting angry because they can’t find anything.  They even dump out a container of creamer.   Looking for drugs, I guess.”

As he’s telling the story, I see Spike is doing his own unwarranted search around the base of Ken’s Class C motorhome.

“Then they go outside and look at the compartments and ask me ‘What’s in there?’  I tell them RV stuff is in there.  They tell me to open them up.  They pull everything out.  All my stuff is alongside the road!”

I’m distracted by Ken’s 200-pound-plus retriever which is scooting his butt across the grass, making a swath a yard wide.

"I hate to say it . . .

“Finally they say, ‘Okay, you can go.’  By this time it’s dark outside.  I’ve got two little puppies with me.  My stuff is on the ground.  Cars are whizzing by going 70 miles an hour.  And they say, ‘Okay, you can go.”

It suddenly strikes me that Ken’s dog, which is still scooting at top speed across the grass, is named Scooter!  How can that be?  The irony of the situation gets the best of me, despite Ken’s terrible story.

Spike is acting like a drug enforcement officer over there, poking around in Ken’s stuff, and Ken’s dog by the name of Scooter, if you can believe it, is scooting his butt all around us.  I can’t help it!  Suddenly everything strikes me as funny.

Gail sees my predicament and smiles.

I realize she’s heard Ken’s story before.  Thankfully, Ken is so much in the memory of that awful incident, that he’s oblivious to my inappropriate – no, I hate to say it, my rude — reaction.

“Not all cops are bad, don’t get me wrong,” Ken concludes.  “I hate to say it, but  . . . some of them are just looking for a way to wreck your day.”

rvsue

P.S.  to law enforcement officers:  This blog tells the story of my life as a fulltime vagabond and includes the people I meet.  I did not write this entry to criticize law enforcement personnel.   I respect the difficult job you dare to face each day and thank you for the work you do. 

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Shopping in the forest

Posted on April 30, 2012 by

If you really want to enjoy breakfast, first take a long hike through a pine forest. 

That’s what the crew and I do this morning.

By the time we get back to camp, the idea of two eggs over easy is uppermost in my mind.  Bridget and Spike soon figure out it’s an egg morning.  I always cook one for them, too.

I miss having a working camera.

“Spikey! Breakfast is ready!”

I don’t have any photos of our morning hike.

So I’m online looking for a replacement while my brain-dead Sanyo is hooked up to life support.  After a long charge, I try for signs of life, not expecting any change, and bingo!  The lens opens!

It’s alive!

I’m so pleased with the fact that I don’t have to lay out any money for a new camera that I click on over to amazon.com and spend some!

I order two black suits for the crew.

"Gee, did you have to mention fat rolls?"

Their mesh harnesses are ratty-looking, especially since Bridget took a bite out of Spike’s.  It’s a challenge figuring out the correct size.

I put the tape measure around Bridget at the neck and around her chest.  Every time I do this I get a different measurement, depending upon the location of fat rolls.

At $20 a pop, I hope the extra-large size is correct.  It’s the Puppia brand and I know they tend to run small.

I also order two water-related items.

One is a Camco RV water bandit ($6.05) which allows a hose to be hooked up to a spigot that has no threads.  The other is a Valterra Quick-Fill with Shut-Off ($6.72), a hose attachment that keeps the water from splashing back when you’re filling the tank.

And I finally order a monocular.

It’s a Tasco Essentials 10 x 25 compact monocular costing only $10.82.  All these items, including $40 for the mesh harnesses, total only $29.37 because of all the points I’ve collected buying gas and groceries with my Chase Amazon credit card.

Making an online order is a commitment to stay in one locale.

The items will be sent to the Munds Park post office, so I won’t be straying far until they arrive.  In the meantime, I’m going to take the PTV in to Flagstaff Auto for an oil change. I found their website and sent an email to set up an appointment for Thursday morning.  I want to take good care of the Perfect Tow Vehicle.

Spike is the man of the house.

I really should head up to South Dakota this summer and renew my driver’s license.  

It’s probably not a good idea to drive around with South Dakota plates and registration with a Georgia driver’s license!

rvsue

4/24/12 . . . $0
4/25/12 . . . $0
4/26/12 . . . $0
4/27/12 . . . $67.28 home furnishings, $44.84 groceries, $19.56 clothing, $6.42 sundries
4/28/12 . . . $0
4/29/12 . . . $40.16 for 10.162 gal. gas @3.99 gal.
4/30/12 . . . $5.78 dog supplies, $23.59 equipment
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Spikey does it again!

Posted on April 29, 2012 by

The PTV carries us northward up Highway 17 toward Flagstaff. 

The crew and I are on our way to Lake Mary Road which will takes us southeast to Upper and Lower Lake Mary, and eventually Mormon Lake.  There’s a more direct route but it looks questionable on the map and even my GPS doesn’t recommend it.

We stop for gas and pay $3.99 a gallon.

Three miles further and it’s selling for $3.89 a gallon.  Of course.  That doesn’t dampen my spirits.  It’s a sunny, bright, and perfectly cool day.  Spike and Bridget are excited about having an adventure.  I do believe they can tell the difference between a long, boring drive and an excursion for fun.

Our first stop along Lake Mary Road is Canyon Vista Campground.

San Francisco Peaks can be seen from Canyon Vista Campground

As soon as the crew scrambles out of the PTV, huffing and puffing and making a ruckus, I quiet them down and walk them through the gate.  The camp host is puttering around his motorhome and greets me with a hearty hello.

He’s happy to answer my questions about Canyon Vista.

It’s a National Forest campground opening May 4th.  Sites are long and well-spaced, costing $16 a night or $8 if you have a Senior Pass.  There’s no dump station, but there are restrooms and water.  If you like to hike, you can pick up the Arizona Trail which crosses the state from Utah.  I can see already it’s a pretty place to camp with picnic tables and pines shading the sites.

“Is there a canyon vista?” I ask.

“Sure.  Keep going straight through the campground.”

I notice signs that say dogs must be kept on leashes on the trails.  Of course, it isn’t long before I see three young people with four large, unleashed dogs.  The crew is behaving very well and I’m proud of them as we walk up the trail to the overlook.  Canyons are not my favorite thing, so we don’t make the steep descent to its floor.  It being Sunday there are a lot of visitors here.  I can hear their voices rising up out of the canyon.

On the way back to the PTV, Spike and Bridget make the acquaintance of a happy canine.

Next we approach where Upper Lake Mary usually is but isn’t now.

It’s a big, grassy field.  I guess it fills up during monsoon season in late summer. Further on down the road Lower Lake Mary comes into view.  I pull over at the first opportunity and take some photos, but it’s not a good place to get out with the crew.  We find a better place where people are fishing along the shore and in boats.  As soon as the crew is on the trail to the water, I let go of their leashes.

Spike sees the water and takes off!

He doesn’t wander down to the water’s edge and decide to wade a bit.  He trots with a mission in mind:  I will soak in that water!  Nothing or no one can stop me!  Over the rocks he goes and immediately plops down in the water.  I don’t know why but this always makes me laugh.  He did this at our first camp back in Texas in August and at every opportunity since them.  What a guy!

After Spike’s dip, the three of us eat our picnic lunch at the water’s edge. 

I brought an extra thick turkey and cheese on rye so I have plenty to share.  When it’s time to leave, Spike is like a little kid and stalls around the water’s edge.  Bridget is right at my heels, of course.  Finally Spike sees that we’ve left him and we’re almost all the way up the slope to the PTV, so he hurries to catch up.

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Back on the road I notice several Coconino National Forest roads branching off from Lake Mary Road where people can camp. 

Some of the roads are closed off due to mud.  Mormon Lake is a disappointment.  It’s not much more than a puddle in an enormous marshy field.  While parked in a pull-out, I take a few photos while the crew sniffs around at my feet.  The camera is acting funny.  I can’t get it to focus.  It makes a strange noise and dies.

“Time to go home, guys!”

Once back at our campsite, we crash on our new quilt and nap together.  Later, after supper, I make a campfire.  As I sit by the fire with Bridget in my lap and Spike at my feet, surrounded by tall pines, I think about the places we saw on our excursion.  This is the best camping spot I’ve seen all day, right here in Willard Springs.

rvsue

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A look inside our Casita

Posted on April 28, 2012 by

The Best Little Trailer has a makeover!

The crew and I want to show off our newly redecorated home.  The quilts and shams purchased yesterday liven up our living space.  I like quilts because it’s hard to see the dog hair on them.  Comforters are too puffy and bulky.  I love the fresh, bright colors for spring and summer.  I think Bridget and Spike approve of the new look, too. 

Cactus in the woods?

I’m surprised to find three varieties of cactus in the Coconino National Forest, south of Flagstaff, Arizona.  Cactus growing among the pine needles . . . A very strange pairing, like bluebirds and polar bears . . .

This is a short entry today.  I hope you enjoy looking at the photos as much as I did taking them!

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rvsue

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Wandering through the woodland

Posted on April 27, 2012 by

What a difference sunshine makes.

No one is stirring, except for birds and other woodland creatures, as Bridget, Spike, and I climb the hill on the other side of the campground road.  We’re staying off the dirt road because now it’s a mud road.  Everything is fresh from yesterday’s rain and snow.  It’s surprising how the variety of plants changes as you ascend a hill.  I let the crew go off-leash and Spike takes the lead.  Of course, he takes us over the hill and through the woods to the pond. It’s a good, long walk.

On the way back to our campsite we meet Ken and his dog.

Ken is from New Hampshire.  He has a Class C motorhome and a motorcycle he pulls behind it on a trailer.  He’s not old enough to retire, so he’s living on savings right now while he travels around looking for a place to land, that is, to buy a home and get a job.  The Northeast is too expensive, he tells me, especially the taxes.

His fourteen-year-old golden retriever, Scooter, is friendly. 

She and the crew partake in a group kiss.  Ken tells me he had another aging golden retriever that developed a lot of health problems.  “I had to have her put down a few months ago.  It’s been hard on Scooter.”  He pauses.  “And me.”

Ken camped recently near the town of Cottonwood, south of here, until it got too hot.

He mentions the benefit that campers, especially full-timers, appreciate.  “It was nice.  The town is only about four miles away so you could get groceries.”  I point to an animal track in the mud and ask Ken what he thinks it is.  “Oh, that’s probably elk.  It looks too large to be a deer.”  In the campground?  I can’t picture it.

The crew and I return to our campsite and set out in the PTV for Flagstaff.

Spike and Bridget are tired and sleep all the way.  I plan on the three of us taking a walking tour around the University and San Francisco Street area, before stopping at Wal-Mart for groceries.  However, when I get to that area the traffic is so frantic that I lose interest in finding a place to park and walk.  I spy Wal-Mart and pull in.

What?  A Wal-Mart with no food?

That seems very strange, but it doesn’t cramp my style.  I buy two pairs of cropped pants for summer wear, a new quilt with matching shams for the BLT, a set of knives, and a pack of washcloths.  I look for a monocular but they don’t have any.  Neither do two sporting goods stores near the University – all sold out.  Well, I guess I’ll have to order online.

I stop at a Basha’s supermarket. 

I don’t get half the items on my list.  The prices are so steep I’d rather go without than pay them!

On the way back to Willard Springs, I scan the forest on both sides of the highway.

I look for elk, but I don’t expect to see any, it being the middle of the day.  I do see a pickup truck parked alongside the road with a hand-painted sign, “Elk Jerky.”  Last night I read that elk can be seen near Mormon Lake which isn’t far from here.  It’s what is called an “intermittent lake.”   Even if the lake is gone, maybe elk are there!    Hmmm . . . Sounds like an excuse for a picnic tomorrow . . . .

More photos of trees, woodland plants, the pond, and, of course, the crew!

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rvsue

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Cooped up in Coconino

Posted on April 26, 2012 by

Thursday morning, April 26th

The crew goes out before the rain starts.   Bridget and Spike eat breakfast and do what they do best — crawl under the covers.

Of course, the first thing I do is make a cup of coffee and turn on the laptop.  I hear the rain gently patting the roof.  Before long I notice the room feels damp.  I kneel down in front of the catalytic heater and start ‘er up.  Back at the laptop, I pull up the blinds and begin to read and type.

I love replying to comments.

I especially like it when I’m answering a question for someone who wants to live fulltime on the road like us.  I visit some other blogs and make a few comments, something I’d like to do more often, but never seem to do enough.  I write and answer a few emails.  It’s a cozy morning.  I find a can of Progresso chicken noodle soup and heat it up on the stove.  What a perfect day for a soup lunch.

I look out the window and I’m shocked by what I see.

Snow!  Big, fat flakes coming down fast.  Snow? Again?  Well, what do you expect at this altitude?  I open the door and take a photo.  By the time I get back to writing this, the snow has turned to sleet.

The pine boughs keep snow off the ground outside our door.

Thursday afternoon

The snow turns to sleet, the sleet turns to tiny hail, and the hail turns to wind.  Last and best of all, the sun comes back through the clouds and the pines.  The crew wakes up from their long nap.

We need some exercise!

It’s four o’clock and still a bit cold.  I’ve got on my fleece pullover and my quilted vest over that.  I bring the walking stick on our short walk.  More and more I’m using it as a monopod for my little digital camera.  I screw on the camera to the top of the stick and walk with it that way.  When I see something I want to photograph, I can steady the camera by holding the stick with one hand and the crew’s leashes with the other.

It’s still a dark day, but I see some blue sky behind the clouds.

I haven’t figured out how to make a blog entry that has photos inserted in the text and then ends with a slideshow.  When I make the slideshow, the other photos appear in it, too.  So you see them twice.  I took a picture of Gail’s motorhome which shows the distance between our campsites.  Forgive me for including so many photos of Bridget and Spike.  This is a record of our lives, and, as you certainly know by now, they are a big part of my life.

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Maybe tomorrow will be sunny!

Once the muddy road dries out, I’ll put the crew in the PTV and we’ll do some galavantin.’

rvsue

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Among the pines at Willard Springs

Posted on April 25, 2012 by

It’s unbelievably quiet here in the Coconino National Forest.

Four other rigs are here, but I can’t hear them at all.  We are widely spaced around an open, grassy area dotted with white flowers.  Yesterday, after setting up camp and retiring to my lounge chair, fellow camper Gail came by.  She’s from Minnesota and has been rving for twenty-two years, the last eight as a fulltimer.

“I spent the whole summer here last year.  The rangers won’t bother you,” she informs me.  Then she adds, looking over at a pickup truck with several lean-tos constructed around it, “At least I hope they don’t.  That guy told me he gets hassled by the National Forest all the time and has a $275 fine to pay.  It’s probably because of all his tents.  He looks like he’s squatting.”

“I’m surprised you were allowed to stay here all last summer.”

“It was so nice and cool here,” she responds.

I show Gail the inside of the BLT.  She originally had a Class C and now she has a Class A motorhome.  In our conversation I mention “backing the trailer up.”  She exclaims, “You back up the trailer?” as if it is a feat for a magician.

“Of course, I do.  It’s easy.  Why?  Did you think I drive around with this and never back up?”

“I thought it was too much trouble.  The gentleman camped over there told me he never backs up.  He said it’s too hard.”

I want to tell Gail that if she put a tomato in the field over there, I can back the trailer up from here and squash it in one try.  But that would be bragging!  “It’s so easy, Gail, I don’t even think about it.”

In the early evening I call up Rusty to let him know we have our new campsite.

He thanks me for the flag and the note I left in the juniper tree.  “Timber’s been gloomy all day.  He sat and watched for you to come up the lane like the day you went to Chino Valley.  He misses you.”  We talk about our travel plans and end the call agreeing that our paths will probably cross again someday.

This morning the crew and I are up and out the door early.

It’s a dark, overcast day which gives the pine forest a mysterious atmosphere.  I decide we’ll walk over to the big pond which I assume is Willard Springs.  As soon as Spike sees the pond, he hurries ahead.  He walks through the mud to wade into the water, of course.  I let him have fun even though his paws and his leash pick up a lot of mud.   Bridget stays close by, mainly to avoid being photographed.  She’s such a girl.

We watch three ducks on the pond. 

It’s a pretty place except for one end of the pond that’s been torn up by quads or whatever it is that people race around on.  There are several, pretty camping spots up the trails from the pond, but I wouldn’t want to camp there.  I can tell from the tracks all over that it probably gets pretty noisy when the weekend people come out with their motorized toys.

Tomorrow may be an inside day, all day. 

Thundershowers are predicted.  Friday will be a good day to drive up to the Wal-Mart in Flagstaff.  It’s been a long time since I’ve cruised the aisles of a Wal-Mart.  That place gets in your blood or something.

A squirrel with a white tail?

That’s what I see going up the pine tree outside our window.  Wow!  The excitement around here grips you and won’t let go!  Ducks on a pond, planning a trip to Wal-Mart, and earlier — wait for it —  I found three new wildflowers.  Hang on!  It’s a wild ride!

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rvsue

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