Snowbirding 2019: At the Backwaters Campsite

Vacation on the Colorado River.

Posts in this series:
The Long Drive
At the Backwaters Campsite
In Mesa and Gilbert
A Quick Stop in Wickenburg and Forepaugh
Off Plomosa Road
• Camping at the Big RV Show
• A Trip to Organ Pipe with the WINs
The Tucson Gem & Mineral Shows
Wickenburg Gold Rush Days
• Constellation Park Interlude
• White Tank Mountain Park
Bumming It in Phoenix and Apache Junction
A Dose of Civilization
Return to the Backwaters

After my long drive south from home, I settled in for a two week stay at my favorite campsite along the Colorado River backwaters. This is south of Ehrenberg, just off a maintained gravel road on BLM land.

BLM, in case you’re wondering, stood for Bureau of Land Management long before it stood for Black Lives Matter. BLM land is federal land and there’s a ton of it in the southwest. It pretty much surrounds the Quartzsite area and stretches all the way to the river. Because you can camp in any one spot for up to 14 days for free on most BLM land, it’s a haven for snowbirds in self-contained campers. In fact, the availability of BLM land all around Quartzsite is probably what makes Quartzsite the January snowbird destination it has become.

Colorado River Sunset
Mother Nature treated me to a nice sunset the day I arrived at camp. Here’s the view from the levee road about 200 yards from my campsite that evening. That’s some California farmland south of Blythe on the other side of the river.

A Little about My Little Rig

These days, I travel with a Lance slide in truck camper. That’s the kind of camper that sits in the bed of a pickup truck. Although not as spacious as the original one I bought years ago to replace my 36-foot fifth wheel with four slides — that huge setup, which became my home for nearly two years, was overkill for one person and a tiny dog — it has everything I need: kitchen with sink, stove, oven, microwave, and refrigerator; bathroom with toilet, sink, shower, and medicine cabinet; queen bed (it came with twins but I replaced them); dining table that can seat three; heat (which runs on propane and DC power) and air conditioning (which requires AC power), and plenty of inside storage. Lance is one of the premier brands of this kind of camper and it really shows. It’s well designed and very comfortable. Best of all, because it’s small I can take it nearly anywhere and I can still tow something behind me. (Last year, I brought my boat along.)

My rig is self-contained — with limits, of course. Its three tanks — fresh water (what comes out of the taps), gray water (sink and shower waste), and black water (toilet waste) — hold 30 gallons each, which may not seem like a lot, but with just one person to utilize them, it’s not bad. Fresh water is the limiting factor here and I carry two empty 6-1/2 gallon jugs so I can haul water back to my rig and refill the tank when supplies get low. Of the two waste water tanks, only the gray water tank can be dumped without harming the environment; I use bio degradable soaps and have a hose to direct water into thirsty desert greenery. I don’t do that unless I absolutely must. The longest I’d ever gone without dumping the black water tank was 10 days, so this stay would (hopefully) create a new record at 14. And no, in answer to a question by others who wonder, the toilet tank does not stink. I use some eco-friendly chemicals in the tank and have been pleasantly pleased by the complete lack of smell, perfume or otherwise.

For power, I’ve got two deep cycle batteries and 200 watts of solar panels on the roof to charge them. A solar controller tells me how much power is going in when the sun is out and what the current battery voltage and charge percentage are. I’ve seen incoming power reach 5.4 amps — without even being pointed toward the sun. On a typical Arizona cloudless day, the battery percentage will go from a pre-dawn low of 40% to 50% — mostly because I run my forced hot air heater at night — to 90% by noon. (It won’t read 100% for reasons I still don’t quite understand.) If the weather is cloudy, which does happen even in the desert, and I can’t get enough power into the batteries with the solar panels, I have a 2KW Honda generator I can run for a while to charge everything up. I generally don’t use AC-powered appliances like the microwave or a coffee maker but I admit that when the generator is running, I might take advantage of its AC power to reheat leftovers in the microwave.

For Internet, I’m at the mercy of my provider and location. I’ve been a Verizon subscriber for more than 20 years now and that’s mostly because it really does have the best network coverage. Even so, I’ve been in more than a few locations where coverage is poor or non-existent. When I camp, I like to get away. And honestly, do we really need Internet access 24/7/365?

My Camping Companion

This year I was joined at the river again by my friend Janet, an artist that lives mostly in Colorado. We’ve been friends for about 20 years now and that’s at least as long as she and her significant other, Steve, have been going to Quartzsite in January to show and sell her artwork. I’ve been camping out on the river with Janet (and often others) since my first snowbirding trip south in 2015, when I hauled my old fifth wheel down for the last time and killed my old truck doing it. Although she and Steve live in a fifth wheel (remarkably like my old one) year-round, she has a much smaller pull trailer she uses at shows and that’s what she brings to the river to camp in. Last year she and I camped a bit farther down the road.

I arrived on Thursday afternoon; Janet came in on Friday. She arrived in a new (to her) used truck that had a van front and a box back. It was called Wild Blue because it was blue and had previously belonged to the air force. This was an upgrade from her old van, which was getting “tired” after a long life on the road. In the future, she and Steve would configure the back with shelving to secure and store her art show booth panels and artwork. But for now, it was mostly empty, holding her kayak and some of her art supplies. Like me, she planned to work on this vacation.

Janet had Lulu, her geriatric pug along with her. Lulu is nearly blind and deaf and needs to be carried up and down stairs and placed in appropriate places to sleep or do her business. Assisted living. But she has a good appetite and doesn’t seem to be in pain. She definitely communicates when she’s hungry. I was pretty surprised to see her; I thought she might have died by now. Now she’s thinner and frailer, but still wearing that pink hoodie on cold desert mornings.

I’d been sick all day when they arrived — I’m pretty sure it’s something I ate in Vegas on Wednesday night. (I like to think it wasn’t the oysters because they were the best part of the meal.) I’d been dozing all day on the bed with no appetite and nausea that I was barely able to keep under control with Sea Bands (pressure point nausea prevention that usually works like a charm for me). So when she arrived, she found the campsite pretty much the way it was when I arrived the afternoon before: camper and truck parked separately but nothing else done. It was a good thing she didn’t need my help setting up because I was pretty much useless. In fact, I was so out of it that I went to bed before it got dark, leaving her alone by the campfire she’d built.

The Shop Tent

After sleeping about 10 hours, I was 80% recovered. By noon I was 90%. By Sunday, I was back to normal. But in the meantime, I needed to finish setting up my camp so I had room to live inside my stuffed camper.

You see, the only major drawback I had on this trip was the amount of stuff I had to bring with me to show and sell my jewelry at the two shows I was scheduled to attend. That included a 10×10 foot tent shelter with all its canvas, three folding tables, a tall director’s chair, table cloths, easels, all the jewelry and cabochons I put on display, selling supplies, and the tools and materials I need to create more jewelry. I’d also decided to practice my soldering skills so I brought most of my soldering equipment. Although I would have loved to bring my CabKing cabochon maker, I had a hard enough time squeezing the above listed gear and my additional camping equipment — generator, water jugs, bicycle, etc. — into my camper and truck. Living with this stuff inside my rig was not an option, but I had a solution: I’d put up the tent shelter and set it up as a shop.

Stowed Tables
When it came time to packing my gear, I got creative. Here are three folding tables and three cases of cabochons secured at the foot of my bed. These didn’t really get in my way during the trip and could have stayed here.

I should also mention here that last year I bought a custom canvas setup for the space under the sleeping area of the camper, so when it’s off the truck, I can put on the canvas and create a sort of garage. I’d set that up for my bicycle and generator and other stuff.

So that’s what I did on the Saturday after my arrival. Janet helped me with the tent — the damn thing is tough for one person to assemble alone. I staked it down, put on the sides, and even spread a mat on the floor inside. Then I moved the tables out from where they had been secured against the wall inside the camper at the foot of my bed and the chair from the back of the truck. Little by little, I brought out everything I could, freeing up valuable living space inside and making my truck usable for transportation by two people and two dogs. (I wish I’d taken a photo, but I don’t seem to have any pictures of our campsite at all.)

Turkey Tail Fan
One of Janet’s tasks was to remove feathers from a wild turkey’s tail fan. I shot a narrated video of her that we put on YouTube.

Meanwhile, Janet set up a little shop just outside Wild Blue. There was no wind and the weather was perfect in the sun — a good thing because she was working with feathers. For the next few days, she’d work on a new project there while I tried to practice soldering in my tent.

Sunrise
Mother Nature also served up some pretty dramatic sunrises. Here’s one from my camper’s back door early during our stay.

Recreation

Of course, it wasn’t all work for us. In fact, it was very little work for us. We spent a lot of our time just taking it easy.

Kayak Bag and Dog
I got Penny to pose atop my Hobie kayak bag to give some sense of the size of the bag. Although it’s big and rather unwieldy, it has wheels and handles that make it easy to move around. The whole kayak, including seat, pedal drive, paddle, and pump fits in this bag.

After camp was set up, I pulled out my new kayak and pumped it up, thrilled to see that it required very little pumping to get it up to the right pressure. We brought our kayaks down to the backwater and launched them. I struggled a tiny bit getting the pedal drive in place and secured and then gave it a workout. I realized that although I could also paddle, the high seat position I’d chosen made it difficult to do so without getting wet. I’d lower the seat the next time I assembled it. We’d go out a few times over the next two weeks. Janet likes to fish and although I do, too, I don’t like it nearly as much as she does. So while she fished, I pedaled around. The backwater is about a mile long — very quiet with calm water, ducks, and herons — and makes a perfect place to explore.

Penny on the Boat
One of the days we went paddling, the conditions were perfect for some nice reflection photos. This shot would have been better if I hadn’t been shooting through a plastic bag.

Janet Kayaking
Here’s Janet in the kayak with Dually. Dually absolutely loves to go boating and, remarkably, can stay balanced on the kayak.

We went on a power walk most mornings. Sometimes we took a short route that was about a mile and a half. Other times we took a longer route that was more than two and a half miles, much of it in sand. Penny ran all over the desert, following the scent of rabbits we never saw, and snooping into burrow holes. After Christmas, we also had Dually, Janet and Steve’s big dog. When he could, Dually would get a drink out of the backwater channel, wading in up to his chest sometimes.

We ran errands in Ehrenberg — post office, water, etc. There’s a shop there that caters to off-the-grid campers; for $1 I could fill both of my water jugs. We refilled our propane tanks — I’m not shy about using my heater or water heater and went though 10 gallons of propane in two weeks.

Trump Shop
Yes, there’s at least one Trump Shop booth in Quartzsite this year. I find it hilarious that Trump supporters have managed to cash in on the popularity of the con man in the White House.

We went into Quartzsite a few times. The shows were just setting up before Christmas and were almost fully set up by New Year’s Day. We always need a few tool-like things for camp and we know just where to get them. There’s a discount grocery store we visit, too. I think one of the challenges for me is to outfit my camper and camp as frugally as possible. If you know where to go in Quartzsite, it’s easy enough to do.

Every night we’d share a meal together which was usually a joint effort with food from Janet’s place and food from mine. For the first time ever, we both seemed to have brought along enough food that shopping expeditions were unnecessary. We had a campfire most nights and, on occasion, we’d use its hot coals to roast sweet potatoes or even potatoes from my garden — I brought whatever I had left — for dinner that night or snacking the next. (There’s nothing quite like sweet potatoes roasted in foil on a campfire.)

Campfire with Potatoes
One night we roasted two regular potatoes to go with our steak dinner and one sweet potato for me to snack on the next day.

The Christmas Break

Nopalitos
A typical breakfast for me consists of a breakfast meat sautéed with veggies and topped with one or two eggs. After my trip to Blythe, I could include chopped nopalitos — prepared prickly pear cactus pads — in my veggie mix.

Steve came just before Christmas and he and Janet left with both of their dogs to visit Steve’s family in California. I had the campsite to myself during that time. (I blogged about my quiet Christmas in the end of this blog post.) While they were gone, I went grocery shopping in Blythe, right across the river in California, where I picked up nopalitos that I often mix in with the other veggies in my breakfast scramble. I also went on a bead buying expedition in Quartzsite. As a jewelry reseller with all the necessary paperwork, I was able to get wholesale prices without having to pay sales tax. That’s a huge savings given Quartzsite’s outrageous 10% sales tax. I don’t use a lot of beads in my work, so I bought enough to last a year.

It’s around then that the wind kicked up just enough to put a thin layer of dust all over everything in my shop tent. It took me a while to realize why I was having trouble keeping my hands clean and why the polishing wheels I used on the rings and bracelets I made were turning black. When I noticed that I was hammering dirt into the silver I shaped for a new design of earrings, I gave up in frustration. The shop tent was not working out — at least not there.

Earrings
A new earring design requires me to hammer lengths of heavy gauge wire flat. The conditions in my tent shop were too dusty for me to make more than a few pairs.

Dreams of a Cargo Trailer Shop

Heirloom Rosary
I made this rosary from carnelian and obsidian beads, sterling silver cross and medal, and a lot of fine silver wire. It took a long time — each bead is separately attached in its own segment — but I’m very pleased at how it turned out.

When Janet returned and moved her workspace into the back of Wild Blue, pointed into the wind so she was sheltered even with the back doors wide open, I joined her for work on a new project: an heirloom rosary in sterling and fine silver with carnelian and obsidian beads. It was nice sitting in the sun, sheltered from the wind and dust. I started thinking about a cargo trailer I could set up as a mobile shop.

This wasn’t the first time I’d had that idea. Twice over the past six months I’d considered buying a cargo trailer to bring south with me. I’d even priced up new ones at a trailer place in Moses Lake near where I live. But I have a lot of stuff and did I really want more? No.

But I was started to think that I needed it. Not only would it give me a good place to work while I was traveling every winter, but it would reduce the amount of stuff I had to load into the truck and camper when I broke camp and moved to my next spot. So I did something my friend Bob would be proud of: I started searching Craig’s List. I found a few good candidates in the Phoenix area that I could check out on the next leg of my trip.

Time to Move On

The two weeks on the river went quickly, as it always does. My first show, the annual Flagg Gem and Mineral Show, was in Mesa, AZ with setup on Thursday, January 3. I’d be spending that whole weekend with some friends in nearby Gilbert.

Camper Roof
The roof of my camper with the kayak (left) and tent frame (right)fastened to the roof rack. Getting them up and down on my own was not an option.

I started getting things together on Tuesday and did most of my packing — including taking the shop tent down — on Wednesday. A friend came by to visit and I enlisted his help getting the tent frame up onto the roof of the camper so I wouldn’t have to put it in the back seat area of the truck. Janet helped me get the kayak, now back in its bag, on the roof. Janet broke camp, too, although I don’t think she had nearly as much stuff outside her camper and truck as I did.

On Thursday morning, we hooked up our rigs. I pulled out first; I needed to check for mail again and wanted to top off my water tank. We met later on at RV Pit Stop in Quartzsite where we dumped our tanks and I refilled a propane bottle. Then we met up again in the big parking lot behind Tyson Wells.

Although the rock show hadn’t officially started yet, about 80% of the vendors were set up and open. The vendor I’d been waiting for was there and I told Janet to go on without me as I spent about an hour browsing cabochons. This particular vendor sells certain stones that I use a lot of at a good price. I planned to stock up for all of 2019. I wound up buying 32 of them and will likely go back for more before the end of January.

By that time, it was 1 PM and I had a 2-1/2 hour drive ahead of me. We parted ways and I headed out of town, stopping only long enough to buy a very messy burger from a vendor nearby. My hands smelled like fried onions for the whole drive.

Snowbirding 2019: The Long Drive

About 1,253 miles in three days. But who’s counting?

Posts in this series:
The Long Drive
At the Backwaters Campsite
In Mesa and Gilbert
A Quick Stop in Wickenburg and Forepaugh
Off Plomosa Road
• Camping at the Big RV Show
• A Trip to Organ Pipe with the WINs
The Tucson Gem & Mineral Shows
Wickenburg Gold Rush Days
• Constellation Park Interlude
• White Tank Mountain Park
Bumming It in Phoenix and Apache Junction
A Dose of Civilization
Return to the Backwaters

Note: I haven’t been blogging nearly as often as I should and I do need to apologize for that. I have some excuses. Do you want to hear them?

  • My 8-year-old laptop is so damn slow that it’s frustrating to use it. I ought to have bought a new laptop this winter, but I bought a Hobie kayak and a cargo trailer instead. (More on both in a moment.)
  • I discovered that the charger for said laptop sucks power out of my RVs batteries faster than my solar panels can put it back in so I haven’t been charging it. The idea of running a generator to charge a laptop is distasteful to me (although I do admit that I used it to charge all my drone batteries the other day).
  • I had seriously sucky Internet service for the first two weeks of my trip. (Of course, that didn’t stop me from getting on Twitter every single day.)
  • I’ve been extremely busy doing things other than sitting in front of a computer. (And isn’t that a good thing?)

Anyway, let me fill you in — as briefly as possible for me — on what I’ve been up to since I left my home in the capable hands of the best house sitter in the world on December 18. I’ll do it in multiple blog posts so I can bang them out more quickly and (hopefully) not put readers to sleep with a very long post.

– Maria


I took the fastest route from Malaga to my first long term campsite on the Colorado River. In case you’re wondering, that’s route 84 to Twin Falls, ID and down Route 93 to Las Vegas, NV. Because I really don’t like to drive in unfamiliar areas at night, I broke the trip up into three days and squeezed it into a weather window that called for some rain and high winds but no snow.

Fastest Route
Google knows its stuff. I’ve tried a bunch of different routes and this one is definitely fastest.

Sinclair
For some reason, Sinclair gas stations really crack me up. Does anyone else remember the old sitcom “Dinosaurs”?

The first day was Malaga to a state park in Glenns Ferry. I drove in light rain for the first half of the day, hitting the forecasted high wind right around Pendleton, OR, where I stopped for fuel and a late breakfast. I’d been a little concerned about my high profile vehicle — I’m driving a pickup truck with a relatively large Lance truck camper on top — but it didn’t really affect me as much as I’d worried. The truck drove well at the speed limit, which was 75 in most of Washington, 65 in Oregon, and as high as 85 in Idaho. (70 mph seems to be the most fuel efficient speed.) I stopped for fuel in Mountain Home right around sunset, so it was pretty dark when I arrived at Three Island Crossing State Park. From what I could see, there was only one other camper — a pull trailer with its lights on. I picked a site on the other side of the campground and backed in. Although the water was turned off for the winter, the electricity was turned on, so I could run my electric heater and use my coffee maker in the morning.

I left before dawn for day two, which took me into Twin Falls and then down route 93. Although 93 is only one lane in each direction, the speed limit was 65 and there was no traffic. I fueled up in Wells, NV and probably should have fueled in Ely. That made things a little tense when my thirsty truck’s low fuel warning came on in the middle of nowhere, NV. Fortunately, I found fuel in Ash Springs, a tiny town that might exist primarily as a fuel stop. From there, it was down 93 to I-15 and I-15 into my next night’s stop, the KOA at Sam’s Town Casino in Las Vegas.

I picked that campground for a few reasons. First, I know it. Second, it’s reasonably priced. Third, it has great, underutilized showers, which is important when your shower stall is your bathroom and you know it’s the only shower stall you’ll have for the next two weeks. Fourth, when I’m getting ready to start two full weeks off the grid, I want a fully charged battery, empty waste tanks, and full fresh water tanks — all of which I could get at a full hookup campsite.

I had dinner at Sam’s Town: a half-dozen oysters on the half shell, an end cut of prime rib which was too big to finish and wound up being fed to dogs over the next week or so, and cheesecake. I stuffed myself, which was a big mistake. Honestly, the prime rib wasn’t even good. I could have spent the same on a much better and lighter meal at MGM Grand; one of their restaurants has an excellent steak tartare.

Oysters Prime Rib
The oysters were amazing. I probably should have had 2 dozen of those and skipped the rest of the meal. Or not?

In the morning, I had a long, hot shower, took care of the waste and fresh water in my rig, and headed out, stopping at Walmart for bottled spring water and Trader Joe’s for other goodies on my way out of town.

I didn’t take the quickest route from Vegas to my final destination. Instead, I took route 95 to I-40, crossed, the river, and drove south on the Arizona side through Lake Havasu.

Clouds
The clouds were amazing as I drove down route 95 south of Boulder City toward I-40.

London Bridge
While I was at Lake Havasu City, I stopped for fish and chips at a restaurant near London Bridge.

You see, I’d been thinking about a Hobie inflatable kayak for about a year. I’d left home without my kayak and I wanted another look at the Hobie. At the Hobie dealer in Lake Havasu, I took one for a test pedal/paddle — it has a pedal drive — and bought it. Somehow, we squeezed it into my camper, which was already full with all the additional crap I had to bring south with me to show my jewelry at shows in Arizona.

I arrived in Ehrenberg, AZ around 3:30 PM and stopped at the post office, where I retrieved my box key and collected the mail already waiting for me. (I rent a box there every winter.) Then I drove south on the unpaved Oxbow Road, my fingers crossed. There were three sites I was considering; last year we’d been stuck with the last choice. This year, luck was on my side — I was absolutely thrilled to find my first choice campsite unoccupied. After debating with myself on how I’d park my camper to get the best view of the backwater channel while not completely isolating myself from a friend who’d be joining me, I backed in, dropped the camper’s legs, and pulled my truck away. If my truck could sigh in relief, I think it would.

Camper View
Here’s the view from my camper’s back door. I always try, when parking out in the desert to put something I’d like to look at out my back door where I can see it from my dining table.

My 1250+ mile drive was over.

Christmas at My House

A lot more enjoyable these days.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Christmas lately.

So what? you’re probably saying. Everyone is thinking about Christmas these days.

I’m sure that’s true. But I haven’t been thinking about it the way everyone else has. I haven’t been thinking about buying lots of gifts and getting the best deals on them. I haven’t been thinking about Christmas lights or trees or decorations. I haven’t been thinking about making holiday dinner or travel plans. I haven’t been thinking about recipes or picky eaters or squeezing people around a table that might be too small. I haven’t been thinking about traffic or bridge tolls or parking. I haven’t been thinking about the inevitable battle of ideas — red vs. blue — that’s certain to be a major part of any family gathering in the U.S.

In other words, I’m not thinking about Christmas the way most people are.

Instead, I’m reflecting on what Christmas used to be at my home and how it’s different now. Bear with me while I tell you a little about it.

Childhood Christmas

Christmas at my house when I was a kid was probably a lot like every other middle class family’s. It included a Christmas tree — normally live cut — with lots of decorations, some of which had been handed down as family heirlooms. Some years, there was an HO train around the base of the tree and antique figures, likely made from lead, skating on a mirror ice rink.

We usually spent Christmas Eve at our house, often with two or four grandparents. My mother made dinner, which was normally based around seafood. She seemed to think that Catholic tradition meant no meat on Christmas Eve and if I had an Internet connection right now, I’d look it up to see if she was right. It doesn’t really matter, though.

We usually opened gifts at midnight on Christmas Eve, sometimes after attending midnight mass. The year I realized Santa wasn’t real is the year my 6’4″ father showed up at our house in a Santa suit.

Gifts were the usual collection of toys and sweaters.

On Christmas Day, we went to my mother’s brother’s house about 10 miles away. I had two cousins — I suppose I still do, although I haven’t seen or heard from either one of them in over 15 years — who were just younger than me and my sister. My sister and I always got the same gift from my aunt and uncle: a pair of identical dolls, a pair of identical sweaters, a pair of identical scarves, etc. (Only 16 months apart, we looked so similar that people thought we were twins and my aunt trying to dress us the same every Christmas didn’t make things any better.) My aunt made a huge Italian dinner that started with an antipasto and progressed through the remaining courses: pasta, meat (ham or turkey) with sides, dessert with coffee or espresso, and nuts. It took hours to eat. The kids ate at the kitchen table while the grownups squeezed around the long dining room table. When my godfather was there, things often got rowdy. It was always loud.

Christmas with a New Family

After my parents split and my mother remarried, Christmas changed. There were far more gifts with much bigger price tags. I remember getting a rabbit fur coat that first Christmas — it was in the mid 1970s and I was about 15 — and feeling like I was a rich kid.

It was probably around this time that we started the tradition of distributing the gifts and then each person opening one up while we went around the room until all the presents had been opened. It took over an hour to get through them all — mostly because we all had some kind of commentary about every single gift — but I enjoyed every minute. Not only did you get to see what each person got as a gift, but you got to see their reaction to it. As you might imagine, this ranged from are you kidding another sweater? to omigod this is exactly what I wanted!

I don’t remember the arrangements for that first Christmas, but I’m pretty sure my steps — two stepsisters and a stepbrother just a little older than us — came over. They certainly did when we moved to Long Island in 1977. It was probably about a 90-mile drive for them, which I know was rough because around then is when we started making the long drive from Long Island to New Jersey on Christmas Day. That was a bitch because there was always traffic on the Cross Bronx Expressway, which we couldn’t avoid.

Every year was a little different after that, although I’m pretty sure Christmas Eve was always at our house with that seafood dinner. My brother made lobster bisque one year when he was in culinary school and my sister and I rescued large hunks of lobster from the trash; he claimed he only cooked them for their flavor and didn’t need them in the soup. (WTF?)

Christmas as Half of a Couple

When I lived in Queens and later New Jersey with my future wasband, Christmas was a bit of an ordeal, mostly because of travel. We’d go to my parents house on Christmas Eve and his parents house on Christmas Day. Traffic was a nightmare, especially on Christmas Day when we lived in New Jersey. We were dealing with the Cross Bronx Expressway again, but in the opposite direction. Amazingly it was bumper-to-bumper in both directions.

At my parents’ house, the Christmas Eve traditions went on: tree, holiday decorations, seafood dinner, presents opening as close to midnight as possible. One or more of the steps usually showed up with a boyfriend or spouse. We often killed time by playing poker — for money — at a nice game table my parents had in the corner of the living room. It was usually pleasant.

At my future wasband’s parents’ house, things were different. It was loud, presents were opened in a mad rush that took 10 minutes and left you wondering what the person who got your gift thought about it, and there was a constant undertone of bickering. His mother was (understandably) stressed and his father teased her mercilessly so voices got raised. His sister’s high-pitched voice always seemed to be heard above the general din. It was never a pleasant experience for me but I did it because, well, that’s what you do when you’re part of a couple.

Christmas in Arizona

Things improved immensely when we moved to Arizona, leaving both of our families behind. Although we did go back a few times for the holidays — what were we thinking? — we eventually stopped the insanity and spent quiet Christmases at home or at some vacation property we owned near the Grand Canyon. One year we grabbed our cameras, hopped in my Jeep, and spent Christmas Day exploring the desert. (It was a foreshadowing of my future Christmases.)

The one year his family flew out to stay with us for Christmas was a borderline disaster, starting with their flight from New York. In my wasband’s never-ending attempts to save a buck, he’d managed to save $50 on airfare by putting his sister and mother on a flight on ATA with a stop at Chicago’s Midway Airport. What could go wrong with a budget airline winter flight stopping over in a northern city? The plane had mechanical issues and because they didn’t have a spare plane, his mother and sister were stuck at Midway for a while. I don’t remember the details — hell, his brother and niece may have been with them — but it cast a pall over their entire trip. His sister, of course, made things worse by refusing to sleep on the futon in my office, forcing my wasband to put her up in a hotel. Always interested in saving a buck, he put her in a place in town that wasn’t exactly the Hilton with an indoor pool that she apparently expected. Then she refused to take his car to make the trip back and forth, forcing him to become her taxi service when she wanted to come and go. Then, if that wasn’t enough, she decided to go through my dresser drawers and came down wearing my favorite t-shirt. I was so surprised that I actually said something about it which, of course, offended her to the point where she pretty much stopped talking to me for the rest of the stay. (Lucky me.)

As you can imagine, they never came back as a group again.

(A side story here. My family’s one-time visit as a group to our house in Arizona had its hiccups, too. It was Thanksgiving and I think it might have been the same year. Sitting around the kitchen table talking or playing cards or something, my sister or brother said something to me and I replied in my best Sarah Palin voice, “You betcha!” My mother went freaking ballistic. It was the year that McCain and Palin had lost to Obama and she was still sore about it. That was the beginning of a huge political riff caused primarily by her addiction to Fox News. She once told my sister that 9/11 happened because my sister voted for Gore. Where do people get crazy ideas like that?)

Anyway, Christmas on our own was a lot more relaxed and pleasant than it had been back east. And I liked it!

Christmas on My Own

The year my crazy divorce started, I spent Christmas at my mother’s house. She’d moved with my step dad to Florida. I went down far enough in advance to avoid travel woes and I came home to Arizona — I was still living in my “marital home” — on Christmas Day. Flying on the airlines on Christmas Day is quite a pleasure; try it sometime.

After that, when I moved to Washington and built my new home, I did my own thing for Christmas. I usually went cross country skiing up the Methow Valley, which has some of the best groomed trails in the country. (Supposedly, Olympic athletes train there.) Sometimes I’d already gone south for the winter and did something alone or with friends — two years ago I saw a movie, last year I went boating. Very relaxing.

Over time, the actual date of Christmas started to shift. My sister, brother, and I began shopping using Amazon wish lists. Throughout the year, we’d add things we wanted to a list and then, right around Thanksgiving, tune up that list so it only included the items we really wanted. Then, after Thanksgiving, we’d use the lists to shop for each other. This is amazingly convenient for three reasons:

  • You are guaranteed to get the recipient exactly what he/she wants. Hell, they gave you a link to it!
  • You can get all your shopping done without leaving the house. You can even do it in the middle of the night if you have weird sleep patterns like I do.
  • You don’t have to worry about wrapping and boxing and shipping the item to the recipient. Amazon does it for you. This is a huge cost-saver with free shipping when recipients live in New Jersey, Florida, and Washington State.

In the beginning, we’d wait until Christmas to open the gifts. At least my sister and I would. My brother opened them as they arrived. So we all started opening them as soon as they arrived. For a while, it’s Christmas every few days. And then the last present arrives and all the thank you phone calls and texts stop coming and going. And that’s when Christmas is over.

As least for me.

This year, Christmas ended for me on around December 10. I was done Christmas shopping and had gotten all of my gifts. I had no holiday parties to attend — although I did turn down two invitations — and no travel plans other than my usual plan to go south. I had no reason to go to a mall or any other shopping center where I might be subject to large doses of holiday music.

(Another side note here. I have to say that I’m bummed out about the newly found hate for the song Baby It’s Cold Outside, which I’ve always considered a playful seasonal duet. Yes, I realize that no means no, but seriously? Do you really think it’s a product of rape culture? Get a grip. What’s next? Jingle Bells? Will PETA take issue with that poor horse pulling a sleigh in the cold? [Insert eyeroll emoji here.])

How I’ll Spend This Christmas

The calendar tells me that it’s Christmas Eve morning, but I just see it as a Monday on vacation. I’m camped out in the desert with a friend. Soon she and her significant other will leave on a long drive to his parents house in California. They’ll participate in the same kind of Christmas rituals other people — including me in the past — participate in. Meanwhile, I’ll probably head into town to top off a propane tank and fetch some water and maybe buy some beads for a project I’m working on. Later, I’ll grill up a nice piece of salmon for dinner — ironically having fish on Christmas Eve.

Weather permitting, I’ll spend Tuesday — which you might think of as Christmas — in the shop I set up outside my camper, practicing my soldering skills (which need a lot of practice). If it’s really nice, I’ll take my new kayak — a Christmas present to myself — out for a paddle on the backwater channel I can see from my camper window. Maybe I’ll grill up a steak for dinner, but it’s more likely that I’ll make a nice omelet using eggs I brought south from my chickens at home.

Arizona Sunrise
I’m at my Christmas destination. Here’s what Friday’s sunrise looked like.

If you’re reading this and are, for some reason, pitying me because I’ll spend Christmas alone, save your pity for someone else. I’m pitying the people who have to climb into cars and brave traffic to gather at a relative’s home for noise, bickering, disappointing gifts, and the inevitable political argument. I’ve been there and I’ve done that and I’m so very, very glad I’ll likely never have to do it again.

You Don’t Need Holidays

My thoughts about holidays like Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter are simple: People put too much emphasis on them and not enough on the 362 other days of the year.

You want to spend some quality time with a relative or friend? Go visit them in June or February or October. A day that isn’t a holiday, a day that doesn’t come with holiday baggage. Or better yet, meet them in a place you’d both like to visit — a park or a museum or a restaurant — and spent your quality time there, enjoying a shared experience that doesn’t require one of you to clean house, prepare a meal, or fret about having company.

And if you happen to think about me and this blog post while you’re enduring your own Christmas trials this year, try hard not to be too jealous.

The Dancing Cow

A fable as told by Mary Poppins.

Mary Poppins is back in theaters. The current movie is a sequel — not a remake — after all, how could they even think of remaking a perfect classic? — but it did get me thinking about the original. I was three when it came out in 1964 so if I saw it then, I don’t remember. I did see it sometime when I was a kid. And I saw it again recently, when I spied it on some streaming service and decided to settle down for a little fantasy from my childhood.

There was a movie a year or two ago with Tom Hanks playing Walt Disney and wooing Mary Poppins author P.L. Travers to get the rights to make a movie. I didn’t see that movie, but it did get me wondering about the book the movie was based on. So yesterday, when I was browsing the audiobook selections at my public library and saw the original Mary Poppins book available, I borrowed it and downloaded its files to my phone, along with a half dozen other audiobook titles. Although I started to listen to Neil deGrasse Tyson’s Astrophysics for People in a Hurry, I quickly realized, as my mind kept wandering, that I cared very little about quarks and bosons. I needed something light that would pull me in with a story line. Mary Poppins was just the ticket.

So yes, as I drove southeast through Washington and Oregon in an 8,700-pound truck with a 4,400 pound camper with gear on top of it, I listened to a female British voice actor read Mary Poppins to me.

The book was different from the movie. In it, Mary is terribly vain and not especially nice. She does have that magic carpet bag, though. Bert is in just one chapter and doesn’t ever seem to meet the children. Jane and Michael have twin baby siblings, John and Barbara, who aren’t even a year old for half the book. Mr Banks is cheap but there’s no bank scene. There’s no chimney sweep scene, either (Bert is a street artist and a match seller). There are other scenes, though, that never made it into the movie and that’s what this post is all about.

You see, in one chapter, Mary Poppins told a story about a cow and I found a moral in it. I’m not sure if that’s what P.L. Travers intended, but I suspect it was. The moral had nothing to do with the rest of the story in the Mary Poppins book — at least not as far as I can tell.

Let me tell you a short version of the story.

The Story

There’s a cow called the Red Cow. She lives in a great pasture with the best grazing. Every year she has a Red Calf and she takes care of it. Her life is routine and blissful and she’s happy.

Then one day she starts dancing and she just can’t stop. She can’t sleep, she has trouble eating, and she can’t even properly take care of her Red Calf. While it isn’t exactly unpleasant, it’s definitely inconvenient and is disrupting her idyllic life. Not knowing what else to do, she decides to go to the king for help.

The king sees her dancing and commands her to stop. She can’t. Then he notices that she has a star caught in one of her horns. The courtiers try to pull it off. When that doesn’t work, the king tells one of the courtiers to look up a solution in an encyclopedia hidden under the throne. There’s no reference to a dancing cow, but there is a reference to a cow jumping over the moon. So the king tells her to jump over the moon. There’s some nonsense about her being a proper cow and cows don’t do that but she really isn’t given a choice. So she jumps over the moon.

On her way down, the star falls off her horn and drifts away. She lands in her own pasture where she’s greeted by the Red Calf and promptly pigs out on all that good grazing. She’s happy again.

But not for long.

She feels as if there’s something missing in her life and she connects it with the star. She enjoyed the dancing, even though it was a bit of an inconvenience. She wishes another star would come down and get stuck on her horn, but that doesn’t happen. So she goes to Mary Poppins’ mother to ask for advice. (That’s how Mary Poppins knows the story.) Mary’s mother says that stars fall down all the time, but seldom in the same spot. She’s not likely to catch one again in her own pasture.

And that’s when the Red Cow realizes that the best way to catch another star is to leave her comfortable pasture.

The Moral

It’s the moral of the story that really hit home for me, especially today. I spent the past week packing for a trip that would last two to three months. The whole time, I’d be living in my truck camper, often parked out in the desert without a power, water, or sewer hookup. Sometimes, I’d be so far off the grid I wouldn’t even get a cell signal. Although I don’t mind it at all — in fact, I rather like the challenge of living like this for a while every year — it’s not nearly as cozy and comfortable as my home.

And that’s what I was thinking about as I packed and did laundry and had a long, hot shower, and used the dishwasher and had super fast internet access and slept in a warm, cozy bed. That’s what I was thinking about throughout the day every day when I looked out the windows at the changing season on display.

Winter View from my Home
Here’s what it looked like from my north-facing windows the other morning. It’s hard to leave a view like this behind.

I was so comfortable at home. Out on the road I faced the real possibility of being cold at night and not having a good shower for quite a while. Laundry meant a laundromat, dishes would be washed by hand, I’d have to go outside and start up a generator — thus breaking the marvelous silence of the world around me — just to use the microwave.

What was I thinking? Why in the world would I want to leave my nice comfortable home for a less comfortable and often inconvenient life on the road?

I knew why: I love to travel, I love to be on the road, I love to visit with friends and see new things and go new places. And I love visiting a few places I’m very fond of. I love the freedom of a life on the road: coming and going as I please, changing plans as I see fit, making it up as I go along.

I love nights like tonight: parked in a mostly deserted state park campground on a river, sitting on my camper’s bed, typing a long overdue blog post into a laptop, glancing up through the skylight every now and then to watch the moon play hide and seek with some clouds. I like sipping a glass of wine and thinking about my day — rather than tuning into a television that distracts me from my own thoughts — and wondering what the next day will be like.

I could be the Red Cow, content in her comfortable home. But I’d rather get out and see if I can catch and hold a star. Even a modest little star that makes life different or special.

On the Cusp

I’m on the cusp of another major life change and it feels good. Exciting, uncertain, terrifying, challenging. I won’t say more now but I will say this: I’m pretty sure it was my brush with death back in February that has pushed me into thinking about another path to find and follow.

Understand this: at about 5 AM on February 24, 2018, I really thought I was going to die. I should have died. But I didn’t. I was the luckiest person on the planet that morning.

The lesson I took away from the experience was one I already knew: life is short. Don’t waste time doing shit you don’t like doing. Or shit you’re bored with.

I’m getting bored and it’s time for another change.