Archives for 2013

Apr 05 2013

Lake Mead NRA

It has been several days since I posted and I have a very good reason for that. We were at one of those wonderful confluences (for a working person) of time & space, specifically, a state park where cell phone signals barely penetrate AND a two day period where I was not obligated to be online for work reasons. It doesn’t happen often these days. I’ll tell you about that in greater detail in the next blog entry.

Our stay at Lake Mead National Recreation Area was fine, if uneventful. On the way over Thursday afternoon Kyle discovered a leak in his AirSafe hitch (which is basically an airbag contraption to soften the ride), and after we were parked the campground we spent a couple of hours effecting a field repair.

All hitches have their failure points, and so I don’t hold it against any particular brand when there’s an issue, unless it’s a design flaw that repeatedly causes problems. When (early on) we had problems with our Hensley I noticed there were always people eager to step up and use the breakdown as evidence that the hitch itself was not worth using, which I think is a case of a pre-determined conclusion looking for supporting evidence. I haven’t seen the hitch brand yet that never has failures, be it Reese, Blue Ox, Hensley, AirSafe, EZ-Lift, Equal-i-zer, or whatever. The important thing, to me, is that when it breaks down in the middle of nowhere—which is where they always go wrong—that you can make some sort of repair on the spot and proceed on your way. The real failure is when a part breaks and no substitute can be found locally, and nothing can be rigged up temporarily.

In this case, the field repair was fairly simple. We deflated the air bag fully and wedged in a chunk of wood to lock the AirSafe in the deflated position, which effectively nullified it but made it possible for Kyle to continue towing. The local ACE Hardware store was kind enough to let us borrow a hand saw to cut a 2×4 to the correct size.

Since this was a short trip, I brought along the Dutch Oven and the Weber grill, and Eleanor packed ingredients for both. We had agreed before we left that we would do a lot of outdoor cooking, which is uncommon for us because we usually don’t have time, but really more fun. Thursday night I grilled hamburgers and attempted a “Lazy Peach Cobbler” in the Dutch Oven. The cobbler came out OK but the oven sat low in the gravel, and this partially smothered the charcoal beneath it, so it was a bit underdone. Lesson learned.

The grill was already out, so I grilled Teryaki Chicken on Friday, and Saturday morning I made a country breakfast thing in the Dutch Oven, which was sort of like a frittata. That came out well, and I think may have fooled our friends into thinking I know how to cook. In reality, I have a secret tool which allows me to avoid most horrible mistakes and season things to perfection. It’s called Eleanor. Thus the peach cobbler contained ginger, cardamom, and cinnamon, which was far more than the recipe suggested.

Hoover Dam view Tillman Bridge On Friday we took our friends over to Hoover Dam, since they’d never seen it. The new Pat Tillman bridge is now in place, and so the thru traffic now flies high over the dam, but the traffic on the dam is really no better because of all the tourists. We walked the dam, took some pictures, and then walked the new bridge (spectacular views) but fled fairly quickly to get away from the crowds.

As we’ve been traveling I’ve been noticing stupid camper tricks and meaning to document them. Friday morning we encountered a great one. The guy next to us used a hammer drill (a.k.a. impact driver) to raise his stabilizer jacks. Now, I use a cordless drill myself, which quickly winds up the stabilizers and makes a small amount of noise for a few seconds as it goes.

But an impact driver pounds the metal as it turns, and that creates a whole new level of excitement as it resonates. Especially at 7:30 a.m. Especially since his giant fifth wheel had eight stabilizers. And they were big ones, so the noise went on for quite a while. It was like someone had decided to jackhammer the sidewalk next to us.

The best part was an hour later, as he was about to climb into his truck. He stopped and said to me, “I hope I didn’t bother you with the noise.” Nah. We like waking up to heavy construction sounds.

We headed out on Friday morning because our next destination was Valley of Fire State Park, about 60 miles north. My research revealed that it was a beautiful place of red sandstone formations, it had a few campsites with water & electric, and it didn’t take reservations. My conclusion: get there early on Friday before the weekend crowd arrives, and hope to snag two spaces for the Airstreams. So at 9 a.m., we were off …

Apr 03 2013

Las Vegas, NV

As I had mentioned before, the demands of work brought us to Las Vegas. We didn’t have any particular desire to head this way, and if I had my choice we would have gone west to the coast, but hey, we’re still traveling in the Airstream and I can’t complain.

Well, actually I can complain a little, because Las Vegas is not a place with great choices in RV parks. It’s usually a choice between overpriced asphalt parking lot and inexpensive noisy eyesore asphalt parking lot. I’m sure there are exceptions, but we haven’t found them yet. Read RVParkReview about the situation here and you’ll find lots of similar comments: “basically a parking lot,” “noisy,” and “overpriced.”

The place we tried this time was particularly disappointing. Cramped sites, extremely noisy traffic from the road nearby, dilapidated rigs in half the spaces, zero appeal. It was, as so many RV parks are, just a place to park and get hookups for a short stay, not a place you’d choose for your vacation. The low-rent motel version of an RV park. Convenient, but otherwise unimpressive.

It was a forgettable stay, with a few exceptions. The big one was that our traveling buddies Kyle & Mary took Emma for an evening and so Eleanor and I got to go out on the town for dinner. We walked The Strip and found it more crowded and money-hungry than ever. Growth over the past two years has been so massive that at some points The Strip now resembles downtown Hong Kong. It was interesting to compare the changes to our last visit, but I have long since lost any desire to remain there for more than an hour or two.

This trip has been extremely useful for identifying little issues with the Airstream. For the most part our recent work has proved out well. The refrigerator is staying put, the new laundry bin is useful, and the new floor is great. But I’m finding quite a few things that need attention before we head out for the big summer trip in May. Obviously I need to finish the new cabinets, and that will get done in the week or two after we get back to home base. We’ll install a new microwave oven at the same time.

Also I’ve been finding lots of small things as we travel, like the rusty latch on the propane tank cover, that won’t budge anymore. There’s also a Hehr window gear mechanism that has stripped (so the window won’t open). These are little things but they require parts that I will have to order or get from a dealer, so I’ll fix them when we get home too.

It’s time for some upgrades, too. The rear view camera is mounted too low. I put it on the bumper and it doesn’t get a good view there. It needs to be relocated higher up on Airstream, above the rear bedroom window. If I could find a compatible camera with a narrower field of view, I’d change it out too.

The cellular router we have used for the past few years, a Cradlepoint CTR500, has become obsolete. The new Verizon 4G card we use makes the Cradlepoint go batty when we hit some 4G service areas. Despite firmware upgrades and “locking” the thing into 3G mode, it just won’t work under all circumstances, so I’m going to get a new model and at the same time install a good external antenna to replace the very obsolete 2G antenna (wrong frequency) that’s currently on our roof.

We’re also wondering about the LED lights. They are excellent except for an annoying strobing effect that occurs when the water pump is running. The pump seems to be causing a rapid series of voltage drops as it cycles, which causes the lights to go on and off very rapidly. At night when doing dishes or showering it’s like we’ve installed a disco mirror ball. None of our friends are reporting this problem with the same LEDs, so we suspect the pump—but the pump works fine. So I’m trying to weigh alternatives: do we replace it and hope a new one solves the problem? Do we install some sort of voltage regulator? This one needs more research.

This is all good stuff to think about now. I’ll have about 5-6 weeks to finalize everything in the Airstream before we head out again, which means I’ll be busy but we should leave in very good shape for extended travel.

Lake Mead Airstreams

Now that the bulk of the work we came here to do is done, we’ve fled the RV park in Las Vegas and moved to a much nicer setting along the shores of Lake Mead. We’ll spend two nights here, maybe go see the Hoover Dam, and then head out for a three day weekend at some location where phones don’t work.

Apr 01 2013

Slab City

Slab City is one of those places that approaches a mythical reputation by dint of repeated reports from “people who’ve been there” and told fantastic tales, like 16th century mariners who encountered sea monsters and the edge of the world. I won’t confirm or deny anything here; I’ll just say that it’s an American cultural phenomenon and whether that’s good or bad in your mind is entirely up to you.

Certainly it’s a good thing by many of the residents, who feel they have escaped the confines of modern society and are living in “the last free place.” Or so says the bumper sticker that now adorns the back of our Airstream.

For those who don’t know, Slab City is a collection of squatters who live on abandoned military property at the eastern side of the Salton Sea. They’ve lived there for years, and built a ragtag community there. It’s a hard place to describe, so if you are really interested, the best thing to do is just drop in and check it out.

Shave the Quails We had decided to drop by on our way north, at the suggestion of Brian and Leigh, who wanted to attend the biggest party of the year in The Slabs (which is a place that loves parties, so that’s saying something). The seasonal residents would soon be leaving, and so it was “Prom Night,” when people would dress up and crown the Slab City Prom King & Queen. We organized a caravan of B&L, Kyle & Mary, and ourselves, three Airstreams trundling about 65 miles from Borrego Springs, around the southern tip of the Salton Sea and then up to Niland, CA.

visiting Michael Depraida The key to our visit was a good (Airstream) friend, known in Slab City as “Radio Mike.” He has been wintering at The Slabs for several years, and operates a pirate radio station from 9 am to 9 pm daily, along with selling art, t-shirts, decals, and DVDs. We knew Mike would set us up and give us the insider’s tour, and we were not disappointed.

Settling in was simple: find an open spot of dirt and park on it. No hookups of any kind. The residents dig old fashioned “gopher holes” for sewage disposal. For just one night, we didn’t need to make such accommodations. All three of us parked near Mike’s trailer among the creosote bushes. I spent the afternoon quizzing Mike about life in The Slabs and then we had dinner in our Airstream. It was very hot, and we ran all three fans all night long.

The “Prom Night” was very interesting. It was held at one of The Slabs few gathering places, a conglomeration of stage, castaway couches, and trailers known as The Range. This open air bar/stage/dance hall made a strangely compelling scene, once it was filled with lights and Slab residents in their finery and duds. To the side, photographers were capturing prom night photos, although most of the people posing were decades past their high school years. We stayed long enough to see the Prom King and Queen get crowned, and then walked back along the dusty Low Road in the darkness, back to our Airstreams.

Salvation Mountain It was a memorable place to be for Easter. Mike, Brian and Leigh went over to the community hot spring for a soak (clothing optional, but they were modest) while we stayed back in the Airstream. The bunny found us again (it’s amazing how he keeps doing that), and so breakfast was mostly chocolate.

Our last stop was Salvation Mountain, to get a look at that astonishing, crumbling, painted spectacle. The man who created it is gone, and already the monument, which is a thin veneer of paint over dirt and straw bales, is starting to fail. It may not be long before it is gone too, so I really wanted to document it before we left. The “mountain” looks like a cartoon confection, covered in colorful frosting and religious platitudes writing in white icing.

Our stay could be only one night. By Monday I had to be in Las Vegas for work, and Kyle had to be somewhere he could get online reliably. We said goodbye to Mike, Brian, and Leigh, and set off for points north. Our caravan was back to two trailers: ours and Kyle & Mary’s for the next 300 miles.

Mar 29 2013

Where’s there’s smoke … we aren’t

I do hate to go off on rants in the blog, but hey, if you don’t rant once in a while it’s not really a blog is it? I usually confine my moments of exuberance or frustration to relatively benign things like yogurt and recycling, but today’s events gave me the perfect opportunity to talk about something just slightly more controversial: camp fires.

I mentioned in yesterday’s blog that we were being bugged by the smoke from fires in the state park campground. Each of the two evenings we were there—as I was shutting the windows and turning on the air conditioner to escape smoke blowing in—I was thinking that it would be great to get back to the open desert where our nearest neighbor would be hundreds of feet away and we could leave the windows open all night to let in the fresh air of the desert.

Back at Clark Dry Lake, I set up the trailer almost gleefully on a flat spot near Brian and Leigh’s Airstream, and we had a very nice afternoon followed by a great little happy hour with B&L, Kyle and Mary, and some Canadians who were parked off in the distance in a fifth wheel. Bert Gildart dropped in for an hour or so, and it was fantastic to see him again. He and I talked about bicycle trips we would like to do next winter, and also the possibility of someday caravanning up to Alaska.

Eleanor made dinner, or perhaps more properly re-made it from the numerous leftovers we had, and we ended up with a great smogasbord. We said goodbye to Bert (he left with a plate of food from Eleanor), and then … the folks about 200 feet to the east lit up a fire.

It was just bad luck that the wind was perfect to carry the fumes from their fire directly to our Airstream, where we were sitting with every window open and the fans running. I don’t blame the people who lit the fire; they were perfectly within their rights to do so, and it wasn’t their fault that the wind was aimed at us. But the smoke was unbearable, and here we had no option to close the windows and run the A/C.

After a few minutes of commiseration with Brian and Leigh (who apparently share our dislike of camp fires), we faced the only real choice we had. It was nearly dark. I had to move the trailer or spend the night sucking up the fumes. Already the inside of the Airstream was smelling like a Russian disco.

So we quickly threw everything into semi-towable mode, hitched back up, and gently towed the Airstream across the bumpy desert dirt roads a few hundred feet south to another open patch, safely out of the smoke path. It was almost embarrassing, skulking away in the dusk, even though we had not met the people with the fire. I didn’t want to explain that we were leaving because of them, but I could not escape the irony of our situation, and it made me think.

I have to admit that in the past few years we have stayed at State Parks less than we used to, specifically because of camp fires. Eleanor had a massive migraine triggered by camp fire smoke years ago, and we don’t want to repeat that again. I am not physically affected by it, but I hate smelling it too. It pervades the interior, leaves a scent on everything, and masks the more delicate smells of the desert that gently waft through the air in the night. Sleeping with smoke in the trailer is nearly impossible for me because I keep thinking of fire and feeling that I’m suffocating.

Many times we have come to a state park only to find neighbors who are obsessed with having fire 24 hours a day. They are always the worst at making fires, too. Day and night they dump green or wet wood in a hopeless pile, resulting in a constant stream of black smoke, no heat, and little flame. Sometimes they add to the fun by burning their garbage (thinking they are being ecologically responsible?), which of course releases many interesting toxins from plastics, foils, and metals into the atmosphere.

There is never any hope of negotiating, since for them the constant “fire” is paramount to their enjoyment, almost of religious significance, as if it was essential to life like it was for prehistoric man in that old movie “Quest For Fire.” Take away the fire, and you’ve ruined the experience for them. What’s the point of going “camping” if you can’t roast things on an open flame and come home reeking of wood smoke?

But as I talk to people along the way, I’m finding that our feelings are far from unique. I have never met a full-timer who made camp fires, and many RV’ers never want them. They are a symbol of camping for the weekend set, and I know particularly for tenters that fires provide useful light at night, a little warmth, and a means to cook. The conflict comes between those rugged traditionalists who love them and people like us who don’t need them and avoid them.

No, let me be honest: we hate them. I know it’s Scrooge-like to admit publicly that we dislike something as cheery as the open camp fire, but would a tenter be shy about admitting that they hate big RVs? (I know I certainly wasn’t when we were avid tenters—and then everything changed when we had a child and found that tenting with an infant wasn’t much fun. Opinions change with circumstances, and everyone’s entitled to an opinion.)

Even now, on those occasions about once a year when I break out the tent for a little “real camping” I never make a fire. I never did, having learned low-impact camping in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Camp fires are strongly discouraged, even illegal, out there in the wilderness, because they leave long-lasting scars on the landscape, encourage scrounging of deadwood that serves a useful purpose in the local ecosystem, risk forest fires— and yes, create smoke that is annoying or unhealthy for animals and people alike. Even when tenting, we have always used a portable stove that is much safer, more useful, and simpler than a camp fire. I wish more people would.

The terrible part of this is that our avoidance of camp fires inevitably means we must stay in commercial campgrounds more often, since they typically ban camp fires or don’t provide fire rings at the sites. I regret that. We’d rather be in the open as we are tonight, or in a beautiful and natural state park, if we can. I am not one to call for new rules to fit every circumstance so I stop at wishing for outright bans on camp fires, but it would be nice if there was at least an established etiquette about when and how to have them. In the meantime, we’ve got wheels and we’ll continue to use them.

Mar 28 2013

Borrego Springs, CA

Coming over to the state park campground was a sort of mixed blessing. On one hand, it was nice to be out of the wind somewhat, with unlimited power and water. On the other hand, after the wide open spaces of the boondocking area I found the campground to feel uncomfortably crowded. What were all these RVs doing blocking our view?

Last night it was a little warm in the trailer at bedtime and I was grateful for the gift of air conditioning, but then again I wouldn’t have needed it if somebody hadn’t had a smoky fire nearby which forced us to close the windows to the cool night air. That’s often a problem for us in state parks: people who must have campfires but don’t know how to make one that produces flames instead of smoke. I swear there’s somebody out there selling green wood to tourists outside every state park.

One of the nice things about coming to the state park campground is that we often run into people we know. Sure enough, half an hour after arriving we had a visit from (Airstreamers) Frank & Carol, who we have met in this park a few times before. (They were also at Alumafiesta and like to read this blog, so here’s a shout-out to them.) There are at least four Airstreams here but we’re not going to go knocking on doors. Our visit is too short and I just want to chill out as much as I can. If we had more time I’m sure we’d meet them all.

The reason is that we waited too long to book this stay. Tomorrow is Good Friday and this is Easter weekend, which is a peak time for families to go camping in southern CA apparently. The best we could get was a Wednesday-Thursday stay, so we are going to have to leave tomorrow morning for some place that is either remote or unreserved. That’s not really a problem given all the good free camping available in the state park.

Our two nights gave us time to get all the housekeeping done and have some fun too. Eleanor ran some laundry today while I put in another half-day at work (more than I had planned for, but that’s how it goes sometimes), we charged everything up, and last night we had a nice dinner at the Palms Hotel on the patio by the pool. I got a nap on Wednesday afternoon, which feels like a forbidden pleasure especially in the Airstream on a sunny day with a dry breeze.

The big outing was this afternoon. We loaded up the Mercedes with six of us (our friends came along) and hit a few favorite spots: the giant metal sculptures that dot Borrego Springs in the open spaces, a hike up to the Wind Caves, the winding canyon of The Slots, etc. Nothing new on this voyage for us, but for Kyle-Mary-Kathryn it was all a great new experience and we enjoyed showing it all to them.

Tomorrow the females of our party plan to tackle the Palm Canyon trail, in hopes of perhaps spotting a Bighorn Sheep, early in the morning. Sadly, Kyle and I will stay back and tap away at our computers, but by noon we will break away and hitch up the Airstreams to move again.