Last night the only sound we heard was the unmistakable wailing of a single coyote. Since we arrived at this spot in the Mojave Deseret yesterday around noon, that has been the only sound to disrupt the otherwise complete silence. There has not been a single vehicle on the road 300 yards to our west in almost 24 hours now. There will be some, of course, but the occasional car driving by that far away will not disrupt our private camping spot.
The temperature in the camper last night was a cool 45 degrees, just perfect for sleeping. Outside it dipped to under 40, which is acceptable when you have to make the occasional foray out in the middle of the night. There was a full moon, which we always love, because it provides a view of the desert that is unreal and beautiful. Plus you always feel as if an attack from a bear or a mountain lion is less likely when you are in a "compromised position," although truth be told it is probably just as likely. Just be ready to have a funny obituary and you'll be fine.
We were in Mesa, AZ, for six nights. Most of that time was dedicated to re-provisioning ourselves, although we did manage to take in a New Year's Eve dance and to see a couple of movies on a big screen--Interstellar (see it!), and the third installment of the Hobbit (avoid it unless your thing is watching ugly Orcs getting their heads lopped off and a cheesy Romeo and Juliet in middle earth love story).
To have this freedom and stillness requires a lot of preparation, as we have detailed in other blog entries. But along the way, often in Mesa (a convenient stopping point along the way), we have to do such things as get an oil change, do laundry, restock food, get prescriptions filled, and so on. The "and so on" includes such things as taking showers every day for a few days, a luxury beyond belief when one's showers usually consist of a gallon and a half of solar heated water outside on a borderline warm day.
We also needed a few supplies for the camper, including getting propane and replacing our two thermometers that had been attached to windows on opposite sides of the camper (so at least one was not in the sun and therefore giving an inaccurate reading). We lost both somewhere in the desert when we went too close to a cactus or something and it ripped it off. Our poor pickup is really taking a beating in terms of getting the paint scratched. But, that's what it is for--to get us to these remote and quiet places.
The planning needed to get us where we want to go, and to be able to stay in remote places for weeks on end, is almost endless. A big factor is food. We like food. Eat it all of the time, in fact. But we also eat well. We have real meals, hot meals, with lots of fresh vegetables. This means that when we leave for the desert the entire six cubic feet of our refrigerator/freezer is filled. Packed. And we carry an ice cooler for potatoes and onions. This experience would get old fast if all we ate was cold cereal and peanut butter sandwiches.
Every square inch of space is used in the camper and in the pickup. To be able to do what we want to do, and get to the places we want to get to, means having a small RV. We don't have RV envy--we don't want a larger unit. We can get everything we need for seven months into our unit, only having to replenish food about once a month.
The planning needed, given the small space for storage and the length of time we are living in our camper, isn't stressful or unpleasant. It is fun. It gives us a lot to talk about, and we can see how much we have learned in this now our fourth road trip. We each have gravitated to certain jobs, and that makes things easier. I don't worry about the things Vicky pays most attention to (food, washing), and she lets me deal with the truck, repairing the camper, propane, electronics, and safety.
Vicky also maintains our lists. We have dozens of them. Lists make things easier.
By the time we reach home in mid to late March we will have slept more nights in the camper in the past 3+ years than we will have slept in our home on Whidbey Island. In other words, we will have spent more time in a pickup bed than in our home.
You also need something to do. For us, it is hiking. We love hiking. It takes up about six hours of each day's light. Each hike brings new things to see, to explore, to question, to puzzle over, to photograph, and to discuss. For us, going to a warmer and sunnier climate to just sit and read would lose its appeal quickly.
So here we are. I'm finishing this blog entry in the early evening. We hiked today, about five miles, saw some interesting structures and a road to an area where, in the 1870s, Virgil Earp of OK Corral fame used to have a hotel. Tomorrow we will see if we can find it.
We also took showers using our shower bag, I had a Bloody Mary after the hike, and we had baked chicken, potatoes, and carrots for dinner. I read some, and Vicky knitted. Later tonight we'll finish the movie we started last night.
And the coyote is back, issuing its lonesome wail. I think it likes it here too.
(Above: camped next to an old and abandoned home in the Mojave Deaert. We talk about who might have lived here, but will never know. They would be unhappy, I'm sure, to see how much it has deteriorated).
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