We actually started our 2019 travels already - back in early December when we left Bellingham, WA to head South for the winter. As of the time I wrote this, we had no other plans as to what we would do or where we would go once we got down there other than some sailing lessons in Santa Barbara, CA. We would return to Washington in March to finish up the boat and begin our sailing adventures for the year. Before the year's end, we will return to the van, heading South again, for more time in the South West.
[size=medium]J[/size]ust days before Xmas – and on our one year anniversary of our first departure in the van that resulted in a fire – we left Kerri’s parents back in Grass Valley and started our way towards Santa Barbara, CA for our sailing lessons. It felt like the first time in months that we are properly ‘on the road’ again, and with two weeks before our lessons, we had some time to get back into the groove, so instead of driving down Interstate-5 (hated by us both) we pointed the van towards East, crossed the Sierras, and only turned South once we got well and truly in Nevada. [size=medium]
Kerri had never traveled down the Highway 95 corridor (always opting to take 395 instead) so we took it. It is a nothing-special strip of road through the desert of Nevada, but for a single lake about mid way, and a perfect overnight spot for us. Twenty Mile Beach (free) at Walker Lake became our first official boondocking in what seemed to be a very long time. Not much too it really, but it felt good to be out of the hustle and bustle of all the California and Washington states. [/size] [size=medium]
We both agreed that it was good – very good – to be back in Big Blue and on our way to the South West. Dry desert is what our bones needed after months of the wet-cold of Washington and Northern California at this time of the year. With snow-capped peaks surrounding us, a calm lake below, and the place all to ourselves, we slipped under our blankets by 6 PM and started studying our sailing books in preparation for the impending lessons. [/size] [size=medium] [/size]
[size=medium]It’s hard getting Kerri out of bed in the mornings. Really. If the temperature is below 50 degrees, and I am foolish enough to give her a cup of coffee while she is still under the blankets, there is no hope for an early start to our day. And that is exactly what happened the morning we woke after spending our first night back on the road – now Xmas-eve. It was almost 11 AM before we got rolling… but I’m not complaining. All we had was driving to do, and we really had no immediate need to get anywhere. One of the greatest things about our nomadic life is that we can move at our own pace. However, on the flip side, is the curse that we *must* keep moving to or we go crazy.[/size] [size=medium]
After getting the drive started, it didn’t take a whole lot of tim[/size]e before Kerri pointed us to a road leading out in the middle of the desert. Well off the main highway was an attractive hot spring that just needed to be bathed in. We have had some amazing luck with hot springs in recent years, and this one kept the ball rolling. One other van-dweller had beaten us to the pool so we took the time to walk the dogs around so that individual could have the pool to herself for a bit. We only went in after she called it quits with a loud, “it’s too hot!”
[size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]Although we originally considered camping nearby to take advantage of the hot spring to the fullest, we chose instead to only bathe for a short time and get back on the road. And yes, it was too hot. A few more hours of driving and we were arriving, after dark, at a boondocking spot south of Death Valley. We quickly settled under the blankets and got to more studying of the sailing literature. And once again, the following morning I patiently waited for Kerri and our post-10 AM departure.
It was only another hour drive to get to the Mojave National Preserve where we took the early afternoon hours to explore some of the preserve. Kerri loves leading me down random dirt roads, and for good reason. It is down those random roads, the scarier looking the better, that we stumble onto boondocking gems. This day was no different, ending early with a spectacular spot – covered in Joshua Trees and overlooking the Mojave. It didn’t take long for the cocktail glasses to be filled and we basked in our first warm sun in months… until the sun began to set. With it being Xmas-eve and all, Kerri set out some lights on a nearby tree (she found out later that this is a no-no) which was the extent of our Xmas celebrations. Then on Xmas morning I patiently waited for Kerri…[/size] [size=medium] [/size]
[size=medium]We spent a couple of hours driving a loop of asphalt around the Mojave to scout some already-known boondocking spots when Kerri directed me down yet another dirt road to explore. While the known-spots were just fine, they need to be something special to meet Kerri’s standards, and they did not. This dirt road exploring is the entire reason we decided to leave the truck and trailer behind and live in a van. We can go places that are impossible for the larger setup. And these dirt road travels have brought us a ton of excitement and joy, and sometimes a headache or two.[/size] [size=medium] [/size]
[size=medium]A few miles down one road we ended up in a wash with the road only worsening. So to keep from making our day real sucky by getting stuck in the sand, we decided to turn around and try another road. But, in the process of turning Big Blue around his rear wheels sank into the sand. From past experiences I know not to even try to get out of it without doing some form of preparation. Spinning the tires will only make things much, much worse. Ironic that it was just last week that we decided to leave Big Blue’s shovel behind since we hadn’t used it all year. We dug with the leveling blocks which helped us off a beach in Baja once or twice and were free of the sand in a few short minutes. No big deal, right? Bah.[/size] [size=medium] [/size]
[size=medium]We kept rolling around, checking this and that dirt road, eventually falling back onto one that we had seen the previous day. It appeared to be tame enough road so off we went for a few miles until off in the distance on the side of a nearby hill Kerri saw a huge mine head-frame. “There must be a road up there”, she said, and I agreed. The road was easy enough to find and before we knew it we had settled in for our work week (so we thought at the time). The rest of the afternoon was spent exploring the mine before the early sun set which brought in the chilling winds. And once again we were under the blankets by 7 PM but enjoying our time back in the boondocks of the South West desert.[/size] [size=medium]
Thank you[/size]
[size=medium]Even though we had a great boondocking spot miles down a dirt road all to ourselves, Kerri continued her map reconnoitering. In the process, she found a cabin. The cabin (I will leave it un-named and un-marked) is open to the public and free to use. Our curiosity was peaked big time, and wouldn’t you know it we were not all that far away from it. So, the following afternoon we set out for a hike to check it out and were surprised to see that it not only existed, but it was empty. Inside, the log book shows that another couple in a van (and two dogs) had just left in the past couple days, and it is usually quite active. The decision was made to bring Big Blue over before sunset and enjoy an evening camped beside the cabin so we could explore the area (which consisted of a few mines and other cabins) the following morning, which we did. Moose even got his first cactus stuck to his face during the walk… I failed to get a photo before he removed it himself.
During our stay I had this constant romantic vision of four-wheeling these roads with a group and staying at one of these cabins, sitting around the camp fire telling the tales of the day. Or, simply unpacking from the van and moving into a cabin for a few days (or weeks – 14-day limit) and spending my spare time working on the cabin, cleaning, or chopping wood for the next visitors use. We did none of this of course as we only had a few days before we needed to roll out anyway, and the barely above freezing temperatures kept us well hunkered down in the van.
There were clear requests that the cabin locations *not* be posted on social media, and I fear the day that some 20-something will do exactly that. Notes posted on the walls tell of a day when they were very abused and derelict and how they have made a come back in recent years. This thanks to volunteers and the very people who stay here, pitching in during their stay. Thanks to these folks, the shelves were stocked with food, utensils, extra water, and even sleeping gear for those in need. We may return here after our commitments in Santa Barbara to live the cabin-life for a few days or a week, who knows.[/size]
[size=medium]The decision was made to start heading towards our sailing lessons in Santa Barbara. Before the end of the Xmas week we had already left the solitude and adventures of the Mojave and headed South towards Joshua Tree. Sure there was [yet another] government shutdown going on but we were not headed into the National Park this time around. Instead, we stayed the final two work days in the dry lake bed North of town. I’ve never stayed here before so I was curious… until I saw the place – trashy, busy, and blah. I don’t get why anyone stays here. There are so many spots available that are many times better… to each their own, I guess. If I stood facing just the right way I could crop an image to make it look somewhat Okay…
I was happy to move on after our second night – into town for some restocking of the fridge and showers for us. That night (Saturday) we rolled into the local Moose Lodge in Lander, CA where we stayed the night and got Kerri out of bed only minutes before the 10:30 AM cutoff for breakfast in the lodge. It has become a tradition to eat at the local lodges when we stay at one. Not that the food is anything amazing, but sometimes the people are. We ate alone this morning. Pioneertown was our next stop, specifically to pickup a few more of those awesome coffee mugs from the potter in town. We stayed the night as well since Sunday evenings are when the house-band plays and Kerri was hoping to see one of her favorite singers who pops in to play with the house band at times.
[/size] [size=medium]Monday was all about driving. We had nearly five hours of driving to do to get to our work-week destination. Originally we planned to make small hops each evening after work, but with the limited places to stay along the way (it being the greater LA area and all) we opted to just make it in one larger hop. It didn’t have to be such a long drive, but we decided not to take the Interstate passage and took the longer and more scenic way – roads I had not traveled in my past. This big move opened up the option to stay at Rincon Parkway in Ventura for the work week (which we did, obviously) leaving us with only a half hour drive on Friday night to the RV park that we would call home during our lessons the following week.
The above images do not show the whole picture of Rincon Parkway. Images show such a small slice of reality that can turn into a huge lie. So here is some honesty: We were the smallest thing there, and they were lined up nose to tail for a mile or more. Most nights we had generators running until 9 PM from *both* of our neighboring big-rigs. [/size]
[size=medium]The past week we have been in Santa Barbara learning to sail, in preparation of returning to our boat in a few months and doing just that. Even though I felt confident in my knowledge of the mechanics of a sailboat before the week, Kerri did not share my confidence (either in my ability or her own). The sailing lessons would also [mostly] appease our insurance company in our abilities enough to cover our vessel when we go sailing on our own. Being covered by the policy was paramount to Kerri (I’m much more the risk taker).
The first half of the week we were in the 101 course. Just the two of us and our instructor, which was nice considering the “starter boat” was pretty small. Even though we spent the weeks leading up to the class reading the books provided by the American Sailing Association we were unprepared for our first day on the water – no really. The first day turned out to be foul weather and heavier seas then any beginner would hope for but we decided to go out on the water anyway. The angle of heel in those heavier winds caught us both off guard. We were both certain the boat was in the process of flipping over but our instructor said otherwise. In the end I suppose he was right since we never did end up flipping over. The following couple days were made that much easier because of the initial day, and by the third day we were out on the water by ourselves and feeling much more confident.
That isn’t to say we didn’t make mistakes – boy did we make some mistakes, including four (four!!!) occasions of tangling our own lines (or kelp) in the outboard motor’s propeller. Four times doesn’t sound so bad over the week right? Ah, but let me tell you that three of the four came back to back – only seconds apart – and while trying to raise the main sail in the marina… right in front of everyone (ugh). You’d think we learn after the first or second, or third? No. The the fourth time was only another 30 minutes later. At least we did learn after that one… we hope. Even though we made the mistakes we were quickly able to diagnose and resolve the problem (repeatedly) on our own, further building our confidence in the end.
By the fourth day we had graduated our Sailing 101 and moved on to Sailing 103 (102 does not exist) and to the larger 32 foot boat. We were very much looking forward to sailing something closer to our own sized boat (ours is 35 feet). The large boat immediately felt better to us. Not only did it have a wheel instead of a tiller (something Kerri found particularly difficult as the controls are reversed using a tiller) but the extra weight of a 32 foot boat meant that things happen at a slower pace; it didn’t heel over as far and it didn’t rotate as quickly. With that said, we found that agility of the larger boat to be astounding – they can rotate in it’s own footprint using the right techniques. We actually spent half of one day just spinning donuts in the marina waters. You should have seen the looks from the locals as I raised my hat to the air and I screamed out, “Yee-haw!” with a 32 foot sailboat spinning in place.
A couple days spent learning how to maneuver the larger boat meant all the difference, and by the end of the six days of lessons we were pretty comfortable piloting her. We spent our last day on the water in the 32 foot boat all on our own – without the instructor or extra classmate. Again, we made our fair share of mistakes out there, but not only did we recognize they were mistakes, we know what we need to do to resolve them for the future. In the end we both passed the Sailing 103 course and feel extremely confident that we can bring our own boat out to sail – safely – when we return to it. We won’t be perfect at it right away but we can do it, and refine our skills over time. Personally I’m looking forward to spinning some donuts in our own boat… next time, topless. [/size]
[size=medium]Immediately after the completion of the sailing lessons (and a night’s sleep) we were up and moving. We had a long day of driving ahead of us – about 300 miles – so I pestered, and pestered, and pestered Kerri until she finally got up from bed. The end result was Big Blue running and rolling at a respectable hour for a change. I had a target to shoot for and with complete and total focus that was all that was on my mind. The target: not-California. Kerri says that I talk about my dislike of California too much so I won’t say it today {grin}. It was within my grasp if I could just drive for six hours… I sure as hell was going to try.[/size] [size=medium]
It rained. The whole way. Which, to be honest, is the perfect weather for a travel-day. Save those sunny days for when I am stopped in the boondocks thank you very much. Long boring story short – we drove our tails off that day, finally crossing the now-muddy Colorado River via Interstate 40 at Needles, CA. And only two miles into Arizona we opted to pull over for the night as the sun was growing tired. Me too. It wasn’t anything special of a location, just an OHV area, but it was good to be out of… um… the city (yeah, that’s it) and truly returning to the desert again.[/size] [size=medium]
The following morning we did our normal thing (I make coffee and stare at my laptop, Kerri lays in bed and stares at her phone) for a few hours until the OHV crowd started pulling in. Actually it was only a single family, but that was our signal to pack it up and continue our run away from California. We only had a two hour drive to our final destination for the week. However, the annual Rubber Tramp Rendezvous had just started and we would be driving right past, so I talked Kerri into popping in for a night so I could hang with my peeps. I tried, really. We arrived, but Big Blue didn’t even come to a full stop. No way do I want to be in that large of a crowd that is now the RTR, So we turned tail and made a run for it, again.[/size]
[size=medium]We made it out of California, and then through the desert town of Quartszite, Arizona just in time. It was a week before the huge annual tent-show and things were going to get extremely hectic around this area soon. The usually small town – only a few blocks in size – grows in size by ten-fold, if not more, with tens of thousands parked in the desert surrounding the town. It is a spectacle to see, for sure, but I want no part of it. Unfortunately, we had to pass through the area to get to our work-week destination – Kofa National Wildlife Refuge.
Only 5 miles away from Q, things go back to a calm a serene cactus filled desert. Travel another ten or twenty miles and you have the horizon to yourself. Well, mostly. You do have to share it with some beautiful mountain ranges to the east and west, but they are quite neighbors. [/size] [size=medium]It was here that a dirt road led to a spot awaiting our arrival. Only one other trailer parked nearby; Susan, a fellow solo woman traveler – someone Kerri knew from social media. The Banks pulled in the following day and we had a night of the five of us catching up and getting to know each other over a soggy campfire. It rained for one and a half days straight – an outrage, but the desert plants sure loved it. The work week passed with all of us hunkered in our own rigs. Only on Thursday night did the rain let up enough that we all got back together for a night out at the movies – projected right on the side of Susan’s fifth-wheel.
If you have never seen one first hand, let me tell you, desert sunsets are easily the best there is. I still believe New Mexico owns the world record best sunsets, but Arizona comes close and it made sure to remind me of that fact right away.
Thank you[/size]
[size=medium]Early Saturday morning we were packed up and were ready to roll out of Kofa to a new home. We were not really sure where that was going to be, to be honest, but time would eventually lead us somewhere. First, we had to run into town to resupply for the next week in the boondocks. Yuma supplied it all – fresh water, trash disposal, laundry, gasoline, and groceries. The one item we could not get accomplished was a shower. The local RV parks were not much of a help, and I had just recently canceled my gym memberships after going almost all of 2018 without using a gym a single day. There were two truck stops in town, but the reviews on them were horrible and I really did not want Kerri’s first time truck-stop-showering to be like that. So, after a long and hot day in town running errands, we rolled East out of town, still as stinky and sticky as we ever were. Now that is true van-life folks, entering our 8th day without a full-body cleaning – Psh, no worries, we have both been here many times.[/size] [size=medium]
I had a hopeful eye on a small campground an hour or so up the Interstate for an overnight stay – Painted Rock Petroglyph Site & Campground. Since it was a BLM campground, far enough off the main route and only a minor attraction of some rocks with engravings, I figured it would be a quite place for us. Surprisingly, there were a lot more rigs out here than I first figured. Not crowded per-se, but not solitude either. No worries, we camped like common folk, even BBQ’ing for the first time in who knows how long.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]We tried our best to stay up late enough to watch the lunar eclipse, staying awake well past our normal in-bed-time, only to find out that Kerri misread the schedule. It was not happening this night, but the next. I poked a little fun at her while we made the bed and climbed in. It was still a pretty spectacular moon that night.[/size] [size=medium]
The next morning we packed up again, ready to roll a little further to our planned weekend exploration location, but first we had to go see the petroglyphs. The pile of rocks directly adjacent to the campground were where they are, and although petroglyphs don’t do much for me, I was amazed on just how thoroughly covered each and every rock was. These natives, way back, had a heck of a lot to say… lots and lots to say. Eventually getting our fill, we piled back into Big Blue and set out for new adventures in the desert.[/size] [size=medium] [/size]
[size=medium]Having a few days each week with no Internet requirement is a wonderful thing. It allows the both of us to venture further away from asphalt, seeking out new adventures and places to explore. I had one of those places in mind for this weekend, and with the upcoming eclipse the extra distance off asphalt would suit it well. If you have ever driven on Interstate 8 East towards Tucson, AZ, you have driven directly through the Sonoran Desert National Monument. I have done this numerous times, yet have never stopped to explore the area. This was all to change over the next week.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]The GPS was not helpful at all but we eventually found ourselves on a rutted and wash-crossing OHV trail leading us directly into the heart of the North Maricopa Mountains Wilderness, the Northern section of the Sonoran Desert National Monument. After a few slow miles the road was coming to a dead-end. It was here that I was hoping we could stay our first night in the area. The end of the road is two things; the beginning of a hiking trail and a free small campground with only three sites total and a vault toilet. I fully expected it to be empty, but two sites were already occupied by two hunters from Colorado. We fell into line, pulling into site #3, and took the rest of the afternoon to relax, read, practice our knots, and eventually took a hike down the trail and back. It was surprisingly pretty, and green, for a desert.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]After sunset, we made sure to take the time to see that lunar eclipse everyone was talking about. Big Blue was well positioned, with the rear windows facing the moon-rise. This made it easy for us to lay in bed, glancing out the windows every few minutes to watch the eclipse unfold, on the correct night this time. We both zonked out within seconds of the eclipse finally taking place.[/size] [size=medium] [/size]
[size=medium]We left the little campground in the middle of the Maricopa Wilderness in search of a place to call home for the work week. We were seriously crushing on the Sonoran Desert so we hoped to stay longer, but we did need Internet for that to happen. Kerri had another dirt road for us to check out, and if we were lucky, just a few more miles around that bend in the road would do the trick. If we could get up there, it would put us on top of a rise and with sight of the night-glow of Phoenix – which meant an Internet connection for us.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]The road was long, and rutted, and passed through another wash every few hundred yards. Any one of these washes were a potential trip-ender to Big Blue. His rear bumper hangs so far beyond the rear axle that it easily drags in the dirt when the front of the van goes up a steep incline, so the washes were the biggest danger. I’m surprised it hadn’t happened too us yet to be honest. This whole past year we had not been forced to retreat the same road because of his hanging butt. A few times we drug BB’s rump a little, but none kept us from advancing forward, finally reaching that bend and finding a spot to settle in… and yes we had two bars of LTE for the week.[/size] [size=medium]
The spot we chose, with a view of the big city glow during the nights, did the trick for us. It wasn’t the most scenic, but it put us about a quarter mile off the main dirt road to avoid the one or two vehicles that we though would roll past each day, (seriously, we saw only two the entire week). From here we tinkered about the area, just snapping some images of the desert plants and watching Moose get back to what makes him happiest – 100% freedom to roam and chase lizards.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]Speaking of which – I do love it when he has this freedom. He is out from sunrise to sunset and never stops running around. He is usually within a few hundred yards of the van, but sometimes he ventures out a mile or so. Still, every time I grunt out “Ooose!” in my loudest, he returns with a smile on his beak, eventually. That boy (middle aged dog now actually) has some serious energy and never stops chasing mice, lizards, birds, and what ever else he can get to run from him. I have always felt he will one day try to make friends with a bear, but down here it is more likely to be a coyote or a rattlesnake. I know one day I will have to bury him out in the boondocks, but until then I will allow him to live a happy (but possibly short) life.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]Each morning all four of us would take walks down the dirt road. This would give Moose even more desert to disperse his pee and Byron a bit of exercise to reduce the amount of crazy in his head. He was far from happy about the walks, only wanting to return to the van to get back to his 23.5 hours of sleep he seeks each day. On an evening walk on our second night we spotted another camp-spot not a half mile away. It was through another large wash, but looked Big-Blue-do-able. On the other side was a huge view of the many layers of mountains to the West, and the sun does it’s setting right into those mountains. All of this was invisible to us from our camp and we wanted a piece of it as our nightly routine. So, the next morning we packed up and drove Big Blue to the new camp and more mind-blowing sunsets ensued.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]In total, we got to spend a full week in the Sonoran Desert National Monument. The beauty of the place took us both by surprise. So much of Arizona is the simple – and boring – desert that you see from the Interstate, but this area was not only beautiful, it was quite. Heck, I even got to spot my first every bobcat hopping down the road as we drove near. Moose would have loved to have chased it, I’m sure.[/size]
[size=medium]When we first arrived at the Sonoran Desert we had no idea where we would go afterwards. That didn’t stop Kerri who found yet another long dirt road that she wanted to travel. It happened to be just across the highway from where our current dirt road would re-enter civilization. The hope was that this new road would lead us through a mountain range and back to Interstate 8 over the course of our 3 day weekend.[/size] [size=medium]
The start of this dirt road seemed to be well known enough to other snowbirds. It wasn’t the prettiest, or the most secluded, but there were numerous large and flat areas right at the gate (so to speak). A few were occupied, mostly with other van-folks, but we rolled on. In fact, it was with great satisfaction to keep motoring down the dirt path, past the standard boondocking areas, to find even greater adventures. At the time, I wondered if people watched Big Blue rolling further down a rugged 4WD road and thought to themselves, “Aw man, that’s great” with envious eyes … or “what idiots, they are going to die”. Nevertheless – great satisfaction.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]Ironically enough, and just as that satisfaction was starting to form a smug smile on my face, we crested a small rise and there lay three large 5th wheels in a wagon circle in a large open cutout. Here I was feeling all dangerous, and these guys brought those monsters down here. What the…? So, It was with great satisfaction to keep motoring down the path, past the crazy 5th wheelers, to find even greater adventures.[/size] [size=medium]
The road worsened. We drove another mile. No way those 5th wheelers would make it down here! Another mile or so passed with us slowly crawling further and further into our weekend adventures. Until finally it all came to an end. I knew it was always lurking over Big Blue and that one day it would happen. Surprisingly, this was the first time it has happened since Kerri and I started full-time in the van at the beginning of 2018. We could go no further. The road leading out of the wash directly in front of us was too steep. It changed angle too abruptly for BB’s long rear overhang. It I had tried to climb up it, the rear bumper would hit the ground and we would be stuck. Damn![/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]We spent the night in a small patch of bald desert right at that wash – a few miles down a rutted dirt road, all by ourselves. We had hoped to be able to do the whole weekend on this road, but some adventures just cant be had in 2WD. The following morning [late] we retraced the road back out to the highway. The 5th wheelers and other boondockers were already gone by the time we rolled past. At least Big Blue didn’t have an audience to his walk of shame back to asphalt.[/size]
[size=medium]During the failed off-road adventures earlier in our weekend, we were catching glimpses of a majestic mountain to our North. It’s shape just kept drawing my eyes up to it, and I wished a dirt road led out to it from where we stood, but none did. Since we could go no further on our current road, Kerri and I set out toward the oddly shaped clump of soil and rock, which we found out to be Saddle Mountain.
Saddle Mountain turned out to be only a few miles off Interstate-10, so it was much easier to get to then we first thought. Just as we were getting near, Kerri found that it was also a known boondocking location on Campendium. Now-a-days we try to steer clear of the known locations, so we jumped onto the next dirt road as if it was a fox hole behind enemy lines with the spot light approaching. This road would – hopefully – lead us along a Southern circumnavigation of Saddle Mountain, where we planned to stay a night about mid way.
As luck would have it, two and a half miles down that very road – and for the second time in two days – we ran into yet another instance where Big Blue could go no further. As we were scouting a wash on foot a fellow off-roader pulled up and advised us not to continue as the road worsens ahead. We took that advice to heart, thanking him, and pulled Big Blue up a side path about a quarter mile off the main four wheel drive road.
Although we still had another full day in our weekend, we chose to stop early for the upcoming work week. We couldn’t think of any place better to be then where we were. To the West the Saddle Mountains embraced us with a view nearing that of Zion National Park. To the East lay 20 miles of the rolling desert hills before the nighttime glow of Phoenix. As you can imagine, short hikes and lazy evenings ensued for the week. Only two or three other vehicles passed by all week. Moose was allowed to run free again, but chose to stay nearby. It seems, after two weeks of running, he was finally out of energy. Even the BBQ made another appearance for some burgers (and a photo shoot). [/size]
[size=medium]Kerri loves to find random dirt roads to direct me down. Normally they do not need to be historic in any way, but this one had a bit of history. The Apache Trail was once used by the Apache Indians (can I still say Indians or is that offensive now?) to migrate to and from warmer weather. It tracks down the Superstition Mountains into Apache Junction just outside of Phoenix and is mind-blowingly beautiful. The road itself, though washboard and rutted the entire way, is fairly tame. Any vehicle can make the drive without four wheel drive, and Big Blue took it like a champ.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]We both agreed that the trail would be better if it were not a dirt road and instead left as a backpacking trail. What an amazing trip it would be to backpack this historic path. One still could, but the ever present cars passing by would really ruin the experience. Still, the views and the solitude (at least in early rainy mornings) were amazing.[/size] [size=medium]
There are ample opportunities to boondock along the way, although some spots require a Tonto National Forest recreation pass at a few dollars a day. These are primarily required at the established free-campgrounds along the trail and at the top – around Roosevelt Lake. But as luck would have it, we did not stay in any of them, instead choosing to stay at Tortilla Flat – a paid campground – about a third of the way up the trail. The campground is nestled in a valley, surrounded by the Superstitions in all directions. Right outside the campground is a small tourist-town, complete with a gift shop and restaurant/bar, neither of which we visited. Tourist shops just aren’t our thing.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]Instead we continued the drive in the morning, looking for a nice quiet place to spend another night before coming out at Roosevelt Lake where civilization (and cell signal) would keep us pinned down for the work week. It didn’t take long for us to find an ideal spot, but we passed it by as we came upon it at 11 AM – too early. We regretted that decision a few hours later when we arrived at Roosevelt Lake where we have stayed before in our early days together – four years ago. So unimpressed of the area from our last visit, Kerri was not wanting to stay there again, so we motored past on our way to Payson, AZ.[/size] [size=medium] [/size] [size=medium]Not far past Payson is more National Forest, where we thought we would settle down for the week amongst some pines along a creek. Unfortunately, neither of us reviewed the elevation of the area which turned out to be well over 5000 feet, and we had this crazy cold front moving in. The weather was going to be bringing snow and sub-freezing temperatures in the following days, and though we could manage those temperatures ourselves, Big Blue’s water tank is external… meaning we would have had a 20 gallon block of ice with a few days of those temps. We stayed a single night, ate breakfast at a local diner in the morning, and quickly made a run for lower elevations again. It was good to see the trees again.[/size] [size=medium] [/size]
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