The crew and I go back to the Cow Plop Mountain area this morning.
It’s imperative — and boy, do I mean imperative — that I hitch up and take the BLT into town to dump her tanks. If I’m going to hitch up anyway, I want to to see if there’s a better campsite for us to move into when we return.
Note: Today’s photos are from our hike yesterday.
Why return to Darby Well Road?
Well, looking at the weather in the Southwest, this area around Ajo, Arizona, seems to be the best for weather right now, even though cold days are on the way. No sense driving off somewhere else in order to have a night time low of 28 instead of, say, 36 degrees.
I drive the PTV up and around and over several of the BLM roads.
On the way out Darby Well Road, I meet a motor home on the way in.
I stop and she comes over to my window. Her name is Judy and she’s a follower of this blog! I thank her for that.
Her husband Ed is at the wheel. He brings down his window and says hi, too. They’re from the Adirondacks (That’s upstate NY, for those of you who are geography-impaired).
“Are you leaving?” Judy asks.
“That’s okay. We’ll find something. ”
With a “see ya’ around” and smiles, they’re off to find their boondock camp.
Judy and Ed seem like good, friendly people, happy to be on the road to new places.
I go to Belly Acres RV Park, buy propane, dump tanks, and take on water.
After that, I pull across the street to Olsen’s Grocery. Now we’re all set for a while. I back the BLT into the same spot as before, and all is well.
Fasten your seat belts! We’re going back in time!
Remember when Bill and Ann were here, camped across the road from our camp? Well, one day I walk over to see what they’re up to and they’re not home. On the way down their lane I pass another motor home.
“Wait up!” I hear a man call. I look around and see Evan coming toward me. I liked Evan and Wanda right away when I met them a few days prior. “Hi!” I reply.
“I want to ask about your antenna,” he begins.
We both look over at the white “flag” peeking over the palo verde at my campsite. I answer Evan’s questions about the Wilson antenna, and the conversation goes to solar panels, batteries, inverters, waste tanks, LED lights, and other subjects that absolutely enthrall boondockers.
I admire his Itasca motor home.
“Creme de la creme of Winnebago, right?” I comment.
“That’s what they tell me, ” he replies with a modest smile. Hmm . . . I bet Evan can help me out.
You see, I want a Sirius XM radio.
Let me tell you, the winter nights can seem endless.
Especially when there’s no television reception, or, worse yet, when the television picks up seventeen channels, all in a foreign language, except one channel in English which plays “The Simpsons” for HOURS or some hysterical huckster hawks a deep fryer as if his life depends on it.
And I don’t give a hoot if that last sentence isn’t really a sentence and is bad form. For crying out loud. This is a blog. If you want great literature, go to the library. Anyway . . . Sorry about that.
There’s only so much reading one’s eyes can stand after peering into a computer monitor for several hours.
I research SiriusXM radios and subscription plans and docks and auxiliary inputs and antennas and receivers and, good golly, WHY CAN’T SOMEBODY SIMPLY TELL ME WHAT I NEED TO BUY! It’s so dang confusing!
“Say, Evan, you wouldn’t happen to have a Sirius XM radio, would you?”
That’s all I had to say.
Evan shows me how he put Sirius in his truck, how he mounted the hockey-puck antenna on the truck’s roof, the dock inside his motor home, where the wire goes, how he put the antenna on his motor home’s roof with the wire in the fridge’s air vent, what I need to buy and so on. At last I begin to understand. I am one, happy lady!
I think it was the next day that I receive a surprise.
A rock sits on the tray of my stepladder. Underneath is a pencil-drawn schematic of a Sirius XM radio set-up.
Now wasn’t that nice of him to do this . . . .
Before I have a chance to thank Evan, he and Wanda are pulling out in their motor home from across the road. I run past the palo verde and dance around, waving and jumping to catch their attention. I want to wave them a “thank you” and a “goodbye, safe travels.”
But they don’t see me.
That’s okay. Off they go, seeking a new adventure, with eyes focusing on the road ahead and minds anticipating what’s around the next bend.