Tag Archives: camping

Campground Grief

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I have the worst campground stay ever, mostly because of the campground manager’s psychotic wife.

I’m snowbirding again, traveling in Arizona with my truck camper, which I hope to sell. I’d planned to come down here on a much shorter trip in my little Honda S2000. As the weather at home got gloomier and gloomier, I decided to load up the camper and head out early, spending more time with friends and enjoying the desert. My house-sitter was thrilled to be able to check in early; he’s a skier and loves spending winters at my house.

This has been a rocky journey. The first hurdle was serious truck troubles in Kingman, AZ that took time and money to resolve. Fortunately, I had both, although I’d prefer to spend them on other things. Then I had some camper battery issues near Tucson. More money, not much time, got the batteries replaced.

But, in general, the trip has been great so far. I visited a bunch of friends, saw some property for a potential relocation next year, and have been buying the cabochons I need to make jewelry — something I hope to get back to as soon as I return home.

Quartzsite is my current stop and I booked three nights at what I thought was Rice Ranch at the corner of Keuhn and Rte 95, very close to Tyson Wells where my friend Janet has a booth selling her artwork. I’d stayed there before and it was extremely convenient for me, as well as being far enough off the freeway that it was pretty quiet at night.

And that’s where my Quartzsite visit went south.

My Mistake: Booking at Rice Ranch North

You see, it turns out that I didn’t book at Rice Ranch. I booked at Rice Ranch North, which is east of Rice Ranch and completely unaffiliated. So when I turned up at Rice Ranch in the dark after driving 4 1/2 hours from Phoenix in too much traffic — rush hour there, construction near Quartzsite — I couldn’t find the entrance.

I called the number for the place and left a message. A woman called right back and directed me to their place, which I’d driven right past. It was crazy dark and, when I found my way in, she directed me with a flashlight to back into a spot.

I was angry and flustered about being somewhere I didn’t expect to be — somewhere that wasn’t walking distance from Tyson Wells in the dark or with bags of purchases and dogs on leashes. When I mentioned that I might nose in, the woman said I wasn’t allowed to. When I asked her why, she said that “everyone else would want to.” What kind of juvenile nonsense was that? I don’t take kindly to idiotic rules and pushed back. It turned into a bit of a shouting match. Finally, she went away.

I was supposed to visit Janet at Tyson Wells on arrival and there was no way I was going to walk there in the inky blackness. So I backed out, found my way out the exit — after making two wrong turns; I did mention it was dark, didn’t I? — and went to Tyson Wells. I relaxed a little with her. We both agreed that it didn’t matter which way my rig pointed as long as I was parked in my site. After about 45 minutes, I went back to the campground, found my site, and nosed in.

Intimidation and Another Surprise

I was feeding my dogs less than 5 minutes later when someone outside said “knock knock.” It was a man’s voice. He said he was the manager.

Feeling intimidated by the appearance of a stranger in the dark, I opened the door just enough to talk to him. He said I had to back in because that was the rule. When I asked him why, at least he had a decent reason: he was worried about people tripping over my power cable, hose, sewer pipe, etc. I assured him that would not be a problem. I told him I’d had a long drive with a lot of traffic, was very tired, and was someplace I didn’t expect to be. He said that we’d talk about it in the morning and left.

(As Janet wondered the next morning, how could people trip over my cables and hoses if they were contained in my site? What would other people be doing in my site?)

After feeding and walking my dogs, I went out to plug in. There was no 30 amp power at my site, which is what my rig takes. Just 20 amp (household current) and 50 amp. Fortunately, I have an adapter. I plugged in and made a mental note not to run the coffee maker and microwave at the same time.

My Daily Routine

I slept like crap. I hate listening to freeway noise and there’s no escaping it at that campground.

In the morning, I was up as early as usual. At around 7, I unplugged, stored my cable, and left the campsite. Since I couldn’t easily walk from the campsite to Tyson Wells, I figured I’d just park at Tyson Wells every day. The camper has For Sale signs on it and it would be better to be someplace where a possible buyer might see it anyway.

I needed to get there early to get a good spot. I wound up parking on the main road, backed in so my camper door would be by the walkway and safer to get my pups in and out. That’s one of the benefits of my setup: I can fit in just about any parking space.

I took my pups on a short hike with Janet and her dogs at around 8:30, then stowed my pups in the camper, took out my ebike, and went to the rock show at Desert Gardens. I spent hours there. Then I got back, took my pups for a walk, stowed them again, and walked around the south side of Tyson Wells. Lots to see and buy! Parking at Tyson Wells during the day was working out very well for me.

At around 5 PM, after making dinner arrangements with Janet, I took the camper back to the campground. I passed the manager’s wife as I came in and noted that she was watching me closely. I backed in — it was easier that way since I had to plug in and unplug again in the morning. She didn’t bother me.

Janet came a while later and drove us to dinner at Taco Mio. (Highly recommended. I’m re-heating my leftovers on the stove now as I type this.) She dropped me back off around 7:30. I walked my pups again, then closed up for the night. No one bothered me.

That was Wednesday. On Thursday, I did pretty much the same thing, but took a different parking spot a bit farther down the road at Tyson Wells. This time, after our walk I treated myself to an excellent (but expensive!) cinnamon roll before putting the pups into the camper for the day.

Then I was off to the Pow Wow, which was the main show I’d come to Quartzsite for. It’s on the other side of the freeway, an easy ride from Tyson Wells (or the real Rice Ranch). I spent the whole day walking around looking at rocks.

After lunch and more rocks, I was burned out and went back to Tyson Wells. I told Janet I’d make dinner and she agreed to come to my campsite.

I stopped at RV Pitstop to get my propane bottles filled and Reader’s Oasis (which is sad without Paul) to look for affordable old atlas books. Then back to the campground. It was sometime around 4 PM. I backed in. This time, I plugged in power, connected my hose, and even connected my sewer pipe. I’d be leaving the next day and wanted to dump my waste tanks and top off my water tank before departure. I also wanted a good hot shower to get some of the Quartzsite dust off me. (If you’ve ever been here, you know what a losing battle that is.)

For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, trucks came and went in a truck yard I hadn’t noticed before between the campground and the freeway. There was some talk over either a loudspeaker or a radio turned way up. This was the first time I’d heard it, since I hadn’t spent much time at the campground during the day. It was pretty annoying at times. Even Janet commented on it after she arrived around 5:30.

We had dinner inside my rig, watching a nice sunset at the end of what had been a cloudy — with even some rain! — afternoon. She stayed until about 7:30. After struggling with Quartzsite’s notoriously bad evening internet service — a topic for another blog post — I retired to my bed with a book and had another fitful night of sleep listening to freeway traffic.

The Psycho Bitch Goes Psycho

I had already decided to take Friday off from rock shopping. I figured I’d have a leisurely morning, dump my waste tanks, fill my water tank, and leave just before 11 AM, which was checkout time. I was looking forward to microwaving that leftover burrito from Taco Mio before unplugging and pulling out.

I dealt with the sewer tank first. That required me to dump everything, lift the hose — because the campground had a sewer port that was idiotically extended at least 10 inches above the ground — and continue lifting until all the waste was out. Then I had to add water to the toilet with the toilet chemical. Then clean the sewer hose. Then hook up the water filter and fill the fresh water tank.

Somewhere during this process, I left the back door of the camper open. My pups had been on the bed in a patch of sunlight. When I was finished with the hoses and had stowed them, I grabbed their leashes, ready to take them for a quick walk before I heated my early lunch. But they were not in the camper.

They were nowhere in sight.

I knew this wouldn’t end well, but I could never imagine just how poorly it would end. I called and called. The manager’s wife was in a golf cart and called out to me, “Are you looking for your dogs?”

I called back that I was. She pointed. I headed that way, still calling. The dogs appeared. I put them in the camper and closed the door.

The manager’s wife came up to me and I asked her, “Did they shit anywhere?” There’s one thing I’m very good about and that’s cleaning up after my dogs. So many places forbid dogs because of a few inconsiderate people that let their dogs shit all over the place. I’m not one of those people. I figured she was coming over to me to tell me that they’d made a mess somewhere and I was ready to go clean it up.

But no. She came to lecture me. “I don’t know,” she said. “Your dogs need to be on a leash here.”

“I didn’t even know they’d gotten out,” I said in my defense.

And then she went psycho.

She started screaming at me and kicked me out of the campground.

I had to laugh at her. I had 45 minutes left in my stay and she had decided to kick me out. She started ranting about me coming and going and told me she thought I was going to leave Wednesday and not come back. I said I’d paid for three nights and I wanted to use them. I told her that if she’d offered me a refund, I would have left. She said they had a 7 day refund policy. I said I wasn’t about to leave when I’d paid for the site.

She totally wigged out. It was as if she’d been harboring this anger against me since my arrival on Tuesday night and had used my loose dogs as an excuse to explode. It was crazy weird.

Broken Cable
The cable wasn’t like this before she yanked it out. The yellow thing is the adapter I needed to use because my site didn’t have 30 amp power.

When I told her I wasn’t going to leave until checkout time at 11 AM and went to drop off a poop bag in the nearly overflowing garbage dumpster, she stalked over to the power pedestal, roughly pulled out my power cord, and locked the box. I plugged it into the other side of the pedestal, thinking about the yummy burrito waiting to be heated! She yanked it out again. This time, she broke the cable.

I told her I wasn’t leaving until 11 AM. She threatened to call the police. I told her to call them. She must have told me another 10 times to leave and I just laughed at her. She got more and more angry. It was so funny to watch.

Then I tried to talk to the owner, who other people said was in a motorhome nearby. I spoke to a very nice older woman who seemed nearly as flustered as I was. But then the psycho bitch ran over and started trash talking me to her. I went back inside my camper, not even sure if I’d been speaking to the owner after all.

The psycho bitch came raving back to my rig and yelled at me to leave. I told her to call the police. I told her I’d paid up until 11 AM and that’s when I was leaving.

It was comical to see how crazy she got. She said she’d call 911 — as if I were some sort of emergency. She finally got someone on the phone. She was parked in her golf cart right next to my rig and read someone my license plate. She gave them my first name and when she couldn’t come up with my last name, I opened the window and told her what it was. I think she was extra annoyed when I spelled it for her.

And then she started lying to the cops. She told them that I said I was leaving but instead I was sneaking in and out at night so no one could talk to me. Utter bullshit. I was back at the campsite every single day before dark — she’d even watched me come in on Wednesday! Her lies totally pissed me off, so I called the cops, too. I told them what was going on and that I wanted to set the fact straight. The woman I spoke to said that there was only one officer for Quartzsite — poor woman! — and that she was already backed up on several calls. I gave the woman who answered the phone my name and phone number and told her that I saw no reason to wait around. I asked that the responding officer call me.

And then I loaded my pups into the truck and left. It was 10:45 AM. The psycho bitch was standing at the golf cart with two or three older women watching the road for the police car. It’s nearly 1 PM now and I wouldn’t be surprised if she is still waiting.

Back to the Desert

I drove out to the desert about a mile from there and found a nice spot for the rest of the day and the night. And don’t tell anyone, but my dogs were loose for 15 minutes!

Parked in the Desert
Although the BLM land in the desert around Quartzsite isn’t exactly scenic, it is free, quiet, and lacks psychotic managers.

I’d wanted to take the day off to do some writing, but never dreamed I’d be writing about nonsense like this. People who can’t keep their cool dealing with guests should not be running campgrounds. I’ll have a peaceful night here, away from the freeway. Tomorrow, I’ll be back at Tyson Wells for my morning hike with Janet and her dogs.

And yes, I’ve learned my lesson: the next time I book a campsite, it won’t be online. It’ll be on the phone where I can verify the location of the campground and the features available at my site.

Would YOU Sell a Joy Machine?

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I get an offer on my 2003 Honda S2000 — and say nope.


My “fleet” of vehicles in the four-car garage on the north side of my home. My little 17′ Sea Ray jet boat is hiding behind the truck; it needs to be sold. If you look closely, you can see my 1999 Yamaha Grizzly ATV parked outside; I bought that new, too.

My Jeep is still packed with art show gear and, frankly, with another show later this month, I’m willing to let it stay packed so I don’t have repack it. My truck is a pain in the butt to park and I didn’t really need to haul anything. So when I went to a meeting with my tax accountant and down into Wenatchee to run some errands, I took my Honda.

It’s a 2003 Honda S2000 and I bought it new. It has about 69,000 miles on it and I drove it for most of those miles.

The Joy Machine

Honda and ToyotaThis might be the only photo I have of my Honda and Toyota parked side by side. For years, the Toyota lived at whatever airport I flew my helicopter to most often: Prescott, Scottsdale, and, in this photo, at Phoenix Deer Valley.

Now I know most folks say it’s dumb to buy new cars when used cars are so much cheaper. I think I’ve heard the “drops $5000 in value as you drive it away” claim about a million times. But when you keep your cars for 20+ years, depreciation is not something you really need to worry about. You really do get your money’s worth, even if the car is a total junker when you dispose of it — like my 1987 Toyota MR-2 was.

This car turned on to be a classic because Honda only made them for a few years. So after normal depreciation for the first 10+ years, the car has started to appreciate. It’s “desirable.” It certainly does turn a lot of heads and get a lot of complements.

I don’t drive it very often, but when I do, I remember why I call it my Joy Machine. I swear that if I had the worst day of my life and was totally miserable, I could get in this car, take it for a drive in the mountains, and be totally joyful within 30 minutes. It’s a blast to drive, with fast engine, six-speed transmission, nearly zero body roll, grippy tires, and good brakes. Top down is the way to go, of course. Replacing the stock stereo with a modern, more powerful one a few years ago — why did I wait so long? — makes it perfect for any road trip, provided you don’t need to take much luggage. In no reality could this be called a “practical” car, but hell, that’s what the Jeep and truck are for.

The Car Dealer

So I drive the Honda into Wenatchee the other day, all the way to the north end of town, and pull into the Home Depot parking lot. I need to return some irrigation stuff and get different irrigation stuff. (Don’t get me started on irrigation and careless landscapers with lawnmowers.) As I’m walking away from the car, a guy pulls up next to me in an SUV.

“I want to buy your car,” he says to me.

“It’s not for sale,” I say to him.

He then proceeds to tell me that he’s with a car dealer up the road and that the car is very desirable and worth a lot of money.

I tell him that I know exactly how much Kelly Blue Book says its worth because I looked it up the day before, out of curiosity, when also looking up the value of a truck camper I want to sell.

“You’re selling a truck camper?” he says. “I just bought one of those the other day. We’re looking for another one. But I really want to buy that car.”

“Well, everything has its price,” I admit. “Come up with a big enough number and I’d consider selling it.” I didn’t tell him how big that number had to be, but it was pretty big. A lot bigger than KBB said it was worth. After all, it wasn’t just a car. It was a Joy Machine.

We exchanged numbers and he said he wanted to come up and look at both vehicles. He’d bring someone from his office.

I really do want to sell that camper — it’s a 2007 Lance 950 sized for a long bed — and if I could lure him up to my place by letting him have a closer look at the car, I was willing to do it. I had the JD Powers numbers for the camper and had discovered that it was worth a lot more than I thought it was. I was pretty flexible on price, though; I’d paid less than the current value for it. If he came near what I wanted and handed over cash, it would be his.


I had a lot of fun times in this truck camper and I sure hope it goes to a good home.

The Visit

True to his word, he contacted me later in the day to set up a meeting at my house the next day, Friday. 3 PM was the time. That gave me all day to finish clearing out the camper, washing road dirt off it, and vacuuming it. I did all the cleanup with it still in the garage — my garage has a drain so I often wash vehicles in there, in the shade. (It clears the dust off the garage floor at the same time.) Then I got the truck in there and lowered the camper onto it. I pulled out of the garage and closed the door.

I also pulled the Honda out into the shade just outside its garage bay and gave it a good washing, top down. (Yes, it is possible to wash a convertible with the top down.) I dried it off and it sparkled. I put the vinyl top cover over the folded top. It looked amazing. Seriously: when you take care of your stuff, it shows. (My 1999 Jeep — also bought new — has never been so lucky; I beat the crap out of it on a regular basis and it shows.) I closed that garage, too.


My Joy Machine after a quick wash.

Now you might think I’m nuts inviting a stranger who approached me up to my house, supposedly to look at vehicles. But I’m not a complete idiot. The garage and house was closed up so there was no way he’d see anything else that I owned. And I texted my neighbor Teri and asked if I could borrow one of her men — either her husband or his cousin who was visiting — for the occasion. They both rolled up in his side-by-side at about 2:45. They had a gun with them.

(I’d considered bringing my gun down from the house, but there was no place I could hide it on my person when I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. So I had no problem with them bringing one that they kept in the side-by-side.)

So yes, I understood right from the get-go that this could be some scam to get me to reveal more about my possessions than just these two vehicles or even an opportunity to rob me or worse. And I took precautions. ‘Nuff said.

He showed up late. Very late. Almost 4 PM. He was alone. He looked at the camper and was impressed. I’ve only owned it since 2017 — six years — but during that time, it was always garaged when not in use. Yes, I did live in it for months at a time when I went south for the winter, but I kept everything in good condition and fixed problems as they cropped up. Here’s another news flash: when you take care of your stuff, it doesn’t break very often. So although the camper itself was 15 years old, it looked great and worked pretty much perfectly. I also had all kinds of extra gear for it, including vinyl room panels for under the sleeping area when it was off the truck and the tie-down equipment the next owner would need to secure it to his truck. That stuff alone was probably worth at least $1500 if bought new.

Then he wanted to see the car. I walked him over to the other side of the house where it was still parked in front of its closed garage door. He might have been drooling. He told me he wanted it and he wanted to hand it down to his daughter, who is now six years old. He said his boss also wanted it because they could sell it. They’re opening a new location in Arizona and I suspect he was imagining driving it down there. Heck, I was imagining it, too — and I’d already driven it between Arizona and Washington state three times.

He wanted me to give him a price on the car but I wouldn’t. I told him he needs to give me a price. In the meantime, I’d already given him the JD Powers printout for the camper, along with my price, which was the “average retail” on that page. (Again, I’d take less, but he didn’t need to know that yet.)

The whole time we chatted, my neighbor and his cousin just hung around. My neighbor, who has some physical disabilities, stayed in his side-by-side. His cousin trimmed the sagebrush along my driveway, which I had on my list of things to do. My neighbor’s wife drove in with their dog and table scraps for my chickens and her husband left.

The car dealer and I finished out chat and he left. On the way out, he told me I had a great gardener. We all had a good laugh about that when he was gone.

The Offer

The offer came the next day, Saturday, via phone call.

It was disappointing. He told me that they wanted to buy both vehicles. They offered me slightly more than the JD Powers number for the camper but the exact Kelly Blue Book number for my Joy Machine. They said it was a package offer — both or neither.

I laughed at him. I told him that I didn’t care what KBB said it was worth. It was worth a lot more to me. I told him it was my Joy Machine and explained what I meant. He understood. But he said his boss wouldn’t buy one without the other.

So I told him that he was out of luck because I was definitely not selling the car at that price or even anything slightly above it. He tried to reason with me, but I was firm.

He said he’d talk to his boss. (Does that statement come pre-programmed into car dealers?) We hung up. That was yesterday and I haven’t heard another word from him.

Meanwhile, I listed the truck camper on Craig’s List. If the guy they supposedly had in the office looking for a truck camper really exists, I hope he sees it.

At Anchor

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Enjoying the kind of peace and quiet that an anchorage offers.

I’m just starting my second morning at anchor in a small channel between Florida Gulf Coast barrier islands. I’m not completely in the “middle of nowhere,” as I have been many times while camping with my truck camper — after all, I can see a handful of lights about a mile away at the end of the channel where there are a few homes and the sky in that direction has the glow you’d find over small cities. But where I’m parked at anchor it’s dark and quiet right now, with the only sound being the breeze in the flags and burgees hanging on my boat. Even the Gulf’s breaking waves, which I’ve been hearing during most of my time here, have quieted.


This fellow walked by my boat along the water’s edge yesterday. A friend followed about 3 minutes later.

Later, as the whole sky begins to brighten, I’ll see the wildlife around me: raccoons on the nearer island, wading birds like egrets walking the shallows, pelicans in flight, turkey vultures soaring. Yesterday I saw a bald eagle perched on one of the few tall trees nearby; when I arrived on Friday I saw the fins of dolphins swimming by.

The sun will be out today, warming the boat’s cabin and providing my solar panel with the fuel it needs to power my boat’s living systems without running a noisy generator. I’ll make bacon and eggs with veggies for breakfast, I’ll feed my pups and take them on a short dinghy ride to the beach to do their business, and then I’ll settle down to do more writing — I have so much to say about my journey so far! Later, we’ll make another, longer trip to the beach in the dinghy and spend some time gathering sea shells. I’ll grill up some salmon for dinner while listening to a podcast and spend the evening reading or planning the next few days of my trip.


Yesterday, we took the dingy to a nearby beach. My girls are smart enough to sit in the shade when it’s sunny out.

Yes, I’ll see people come and go. While my boat is the only boat anchored here, it’s not the only one using this relatively shallow channel. I’ve seen pleasure boats zipping through, fisherman gliding by with silent electric motors, and even tour boats promising dolphin sightings puttering through while a man on a speaker points out things of interest around them. Yes, I’ve become a tourist attraction: the semi-retired solo traveler soaking up the serenity of Florida’s coastal waters.


Yes, I’m a tourist attraction now.

And I’ll see people walking along the shore in the State Park on the Gulf side island. Their voices carry across the water; I can hear them talking but not what they’re saying.

But eventually, as the sun sinks lower and lower toward the horizon, all of these boats and people will fade away, going back to their docks and their homes and their lives. I’ll stay another day or two or maybe move on to the next anchorage, hoping it’s as pleasant as this one.


The sunsets aren’t too shabby from the boat, either.

Embracing the Cruising Life

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Report from my first two months as a trawler owner.

If you’re looking for a blog post with specific details about my trip on the Great Loop so far, this isn’t it.

When I write it, you’ll find it in My Great Loop Adventure blog. It’ll have more pictures and, with luck, links to videos on YouTube. Be patient, however; I really do need to get stuff around the house done before I can dive into that. If you haven’t subscribed to that blog, please do. There’s no spam — just immediate notifications of new posts there.

If you’ve been following this blog and/or My Great Loop Adventure blog, you probably know that after exploring the idea of small boat cruising, going on three separate trips ranging from 12 days to 5 weeks each, and researching the kind of boat I might want to cruise in, I bought a 2019 Ranger Tug R-29 CB. I took delivery of the boat right after Labor Day weekend and have spent a total of about 40 days on board since then. The longest stay on board ended yesterday morning: 23 consecutive days traveling from Chicago to Alton, IL (near St. Louis).

I thought I’d share a few of my thoughts about my experiences so far.

It’s Like RVing — on the Water

I have years of experience traveling with various types of RVs. Cruising in my own boat is almost identical to RVing in something like a motorhome or my truck camper. You drive what you sleep in and everything you need/want with you has to fit on board.

To get from place to place, you follow navigable waterways (roads). I’m fortunate in that my boat needs only 2 1/2 feet of water to float in and can fit under bridges as low as 14 feet above the water. (This is almost like traveling in my truck camper, which has high clearance and 4WD to get me into places other rigs can’t go.) There are plenty of printed and electronic resources for finding routes and destinations. My boat has three onboard chart plotters. They’re a lot like using Google Maps on my phone to navigate on the road — they can route me anywhere it’s possible to go. (Unlike Google Maps, however, I can actually turn over control of the boat to the chart plotters and their autopilot system and let them do the driving.)

At the end of a travel day, you can either stop at a marina (campground), stay at a free public wall (truck stop), or anchor out (dry camp). You can stay as long as you want — depending, of course, on whether you need provisions. You buy provisions along the way, taking on fuel and water and groceries when you can. You need to pump-out (dump) your waste tank. Plugging in to shore power (campground power) powers your boat’s systems and charges your onboard batteries; when you’re not plugged in, you’re powering everything off the onboard batteries. (My boat has a total of 6 AGM batteries: 4 house batteries, 1 engine battery, and 1 thruster battery.) A solar panel or generator can provide power or help recharge batteries when you’re not plugged in. (My boat has 160 watts of solar on the roof and I’ve brought along my old Honda 2KW generator in case I need it.) Of course, the batteries are all charged automatically when the engine is running. All this is pretty much the same as with an RV.

There are some notable differences:

  • You do not connect to a fresh water source at a marina. Instead, you manually fill a tank and a DC-powered pump handles pressurization at the sinks/showers.
  • You have only one waste tank, which is equivalent to an RV’s blackwater tank. It needs to be pumped out with a suction hose — unless you’re a certain number of miles off shore (in the ocean) where you can pump it out in the water. (I won’t ever be that far off shore.)
  • There is no gray water tank. Water from the sinks and showers goes right into whatever body of water you’re floating in.
  • The water to flush your toilet comes from the body of water you’re in — not from your fresh water supply. Fresh water is used exclusively for the sinks and showers.
  • The water heater does not work with propane. Instead, it’s either heated by the engine while you’re under way or heated with an electric water heater when you’re plugged into shore power.
  • The refrigerator does not work with propane either. Instead, it works off DC power and is the largest consumer of power when you’re not plugged in. (I find this maddening.)

Fuel Costs

My biggest expense is fuel, which certainly does explain why so many people buy boats like this and don’t take them anywhere. The boat takes diesel and has a 145-gallon tank. I’ll let you do the math on my most recent top-off of about 105 gallons at $5.99/gallon. Ouch.

Of course, fuel consumption is somewhat controllable by moderating my speed. Yes, at full throttle the boat can go 20 knots. It also burns an absurd amount of fuel at that speed. Volvo — the maker of the Penta D4 300 engine — recommends operating at 80% to 90% RPM and that does reduce both speed and fuel consumption, but not enough to make long trips between fuel stops possible. What I’ve discovered is that a cruise speed of about 8 knots is a good compromise between fuel consumption and speed. I can go slower to conserve more fuel but I can also speed up if I need to get somewhere in a hurry. How do I know this? Well, the boat’s engine and chartplotter work together to provide actual speed and fuel consumption data as I cruise.


Why, of course I took readings of actual data and plugged them into an Excel spreadsheet so I could chart them. Note that these NMPG and SOG numbers might be a tad high given that we were in the Mississippi River when I noted them and current may have given us a small boost.

So if you’re wondering how far I can get on 145 gallons of diesel, I’m figuring about 300 miles — if I watch my speed. Yes, I can go farther if I go slower but there are only so many hours in a day and I have no plans to cruise at night.

Overnight Accommodations

My other major cost is marinas. I’ve found places to dock ranging in price from free to about $90/night. You generally get what you pay for, although location does play a role.

My most expensive marina stops have been at Roche Harbor (a vacation destination) and downtown Chicago (a major metropolitan area). Both had all facilities I’ve come to expect: 30 amp power, water, pump-out service, restrooms, showers, and restaurants/groceries within walking distance. (More on all those in a moment.)


I only took one decent photo while at DuSable Marina in Chicago — and that was early one morning. We were there from October 13 through 15 and the marina was still quite full. But on October 31 (when we were about 300 miles south), it was completely empty because it closes for the winter.


Grafton Harbor was one of my favorite stops. A great restaurant, restrooms, showers, and laundry were all walking distance and we were able to top off water and fuel and get a pump out before leaving.

On the free end of the scale, we parked at the Jolliet, IL City Wall with 30 amp power, the Peoria City Dock with no power in one spot and just 110 v (household current) power in another, and at Mel’s Illinois River Restaurant, with no power. While Peoria had restaurants and a great bakery within walking distance, it’s also the stop where someone stole my portable BBQ grill right off the back deck of the boat one night. (I was lucky they didn’t take the inflatable life jackets or my electric bike, all of which were also on that back deck and a lot more valuable.)


Buddy boats R-31 CB “Pony” and R-29 CB “Do It Now” at the free wall in Jolliet, IL. This was a very nice free stop, especially because of the 30 amp power, autumn foliage, and park for dog walking, but there wasn’t much within walking distance.


Here are “La Principessa,” “Do It Now,” and “Nine Lives” at Peoria free City Dock. The facility was designed for boats even smaller than mine so the larger boats were left to tie up on a long floating dock that could barely fit two of us. “Nine Lives” is actually parked against the wall beyond the dock and tied up to the top of it; the only way they could get on and off the boat was to climb to their command bridge and over the rail at the top of the wall.

Of course, you can save a ton of money by simply anchoring out overnight. There are plenty of anchorages along the way and and resources like Waterway Guide to tell you what to expect at most of them. The boat is completely self-contained so I don’t need to come on land if I have water on board and space in my toilet waste tank. Of course, with two small dogs on board, dealing with their waste removal needs can be a challenge if I can’t just step off the boat with them for a walk. We anchored out just one night and our spot was wonderfully protected, quiet, and dark. Unfortunately, one of my pups refused to use the special “peepee mat” I’d bought and would up holding it all in for at least 40 hours. More training is required.


Connie on “La Principessa” shot this photo of “Do It Now” at anchor. This was the first and only time I’ve anchored out and I think I could have dropped the anchor a little farther from shore. I have an app on my phone (and my chartplotters) that can alert me if the anchor starts dragging, but I still slept like crap that night, worrying about the tail end of the boat drifting into the shore and not being able to power out. Yes, a stern anchor would help, but I don’t have one.

Scenery and Points of Interest

The scenery as you cruise varies greatly on the time of year and the waterway you’re on. The Puget Sound area, where I got my first experiences with the boat, offers outstanding views of forests and mountains, with all kinds of mammals and birds swimming in the water around you. The Chicago River is a crazy combination of buildings, bridges, and other water traffic. Farther south was industrial areas. The wide open spaces of trees and farms and small towns.

The views change gradually, given the slow speed. It reminds me a lot of how I experienced changes in terrain on long cross-country trips in my helicopter. Yes, I was moving along at 100 knots or more, but the grand landscape of the west changes gradually over many miles. This is the same, but with more subtle changes over fewer miles and longer stretches of time.

Most of the towns that have marinas or free places for a cruiser to park a boat overnight also have shops and restaurants. There are quaint downtown areas, many of which have historic buildings. There are always museums. Again, there are plenty of resources to help you find places of interest for a stop or an overnight stay. I have to admit that my trip between Chicago and the St. Louis area was a bit disappointing, mostly because we found ourselves in a bit of a hurry early and late in the trip, or dealing with cold weather, and I was sick with a cold in the middle. I feel as if I missed a lot of the exploring I might have done.

Weather

Weather is definitely a factor when you’re cruising in a small boat, although your tolerance to weather depends on your boat, your experience, the severity of the weather, and the way the weather affects the body of water you’re on.

In the two months I’ve been cruising on my own boat, I’ve been pretty lucky about weather. I had windy conditions in Puget Sound one day and relatively windy conditions on Lake Michigan another day, but neither experience was beyond what I or the boat could handle. Yes, we were tossed around and yes, water came up over the bow and had me using the windshield wipers on a day it wasn’t raining and yes, I wished that part of the trip was over and done while it was happening. But nothing broke, no one got sick, and the boat was never in any danger. Wind was also a factor during our first few days on the Illinois River, but again, it wasn’t a problem other than discomfort.

And of course, no one complains when the water is like glass or has tiny ripples that barely rock the boat.

I had one day of poor visibility on Puget Sound but it never got below a mile. I used the experience to experiment with my radar system — learning to read it so I could avoid obstacles if fog came up suddenly on a future cruise. Real fog delayed my departure from overnight parking on two occasions — who in their right mind would be in a hurry to leave a safe spot when they couldn’t see where they were going? (Contrary to popular belief, I am still in my right mind.)


Fog delayed us only a short while at the $20 Mel’s Illinois River Restaurant dock in Hardin, where we stopped with “La Princepessa.” (Excellent, reasonably priced restaurant, by the way.) Our next stop was Grafton, only 20 miles away so it was a short day anyway.

We did allow weather forecasts to delay us a lot longer than we should have been delayed in Peoria, IL. The forecast called for high winds — which, other than somewhat rough water on the Illinois River, only really affected us in locks — followed by heavy rain. Rain forecasts went from less than an inch to up to two inches and then back down to less than an inch. We’d been warned about floating debris after regional rainfalls exceeding 1 inch. Another, larger boat was waiting it out and they seemed very concerned. That got my companion worried. It also got me concerned. What didn’t make things better is that I’d been dealing with a bad cold for a few days and was exhausted after even only a few hours at the helm. So I decided to wait, too.

Unfortunately, the “hazardous weather” turned out to be a big nothing burger. We wasted a total of 5 days in Peoria when 2 would have been enough. That basically closed the window for us to get much farther than St. Louis before it was time to go home. (The way I see it, 3 days wasted in Peoria plus 2 extra days spent in Grafton plus 2 extra days spent at Alton would have gotten us to Green Turtle Bay — a much better stopping spot to continue the trip in early December. Yes, logistics to get to St. Louis would have been tougher, but it would have been worth it to get what I see as the hardest part of the trip — Alton to Paducah — behind me.)

But this is all a learning experience. And I need to remember that sometimes the weather forecasts won’t overstate the hazards. Sometimes they’ll understate hazards and I could find myself in trouble. Better safe than sorry.

Size Matters

Of all the boats belonging to “Loopers” we met in October, my boat was the smallest. The second smallest was also a Ranger Tug, but it was the next size up — an R-31 rather than my R-29. All of the boats had two people on board.


Nine Lives is a 48′ 2012 Kadey Krogen. Its owners, Kenny and Rhonda, live aboard year-round and just travel along the Great Loop. I took this photo as they left Alton Marina the other day.

According to Ranger Tugs, my boat is supposed to sleep six people. This number assumes two people in the main berth (which has an odd-shaped bed), two people in the lower berth (which has a full sized bed), and two people on the table converted to a bed (which I can’t do because the boat didn’t come with the required cushion). The reality is that unless two people really, really like each other, only one person is going to fit comfortably in each of the two berths. So I don’t think I’ll be encouraging any couples to accompany me.

Although there’s plenty of space on board for a traveler to get some alone time, the amount of comfortable space varies based on the weather. Sure, on a great day it’s wonderful to sit outside on the aft deck or up on the command bridge in the fresh air. But if it’s cold or rainy, inside is more pleasant. Then there are just three spaces (other than the head): the front cabin, the main cabin, and the lower cabin. The front and lower cabins are mostly beds. The main cabin has a nice sized table and two benches big enough to accommodate four people comfortably. That’s it.

The boat is also not designed for fat people. I’m not fat (in a rotund way), but I am overweight and I do need to shimmy through narrow spaces. They say I have a walk-around bed, but you can realize the absurdity of that statement when you try to walk around it. The door to the head is so narrow past the corner of my bed that it’s necessary to go through sideways. And I’ve stopped trying to get into the space between the helm and the back of the bench seat when the seat is facing the table. It’s almost wide enough.

Janet (who joined me on my October trip) and I called maneuvering around the boat, especially to get things out of the lower cabinets and refrigerator, “boat yoga.”


Here we are up on the command bridge while under way one morning. Do we look cold? We were! We went back inside the cabin not long after I made this selfie.

That said, the boat is very comfortable — at least to me. Remember, I’m coming to it from a slide-in truck camper. The boat is bigger. It has more windows and is brighter. It has a built-in inverter so I can use the microwave and coffee maker when I’m not plugged in. It has a generously sized aft deck with a table and seating for six — really! The command bridge seating is comfortable and a real joy when under way in warm weather. Yes, the bed is a weird shape, but it’s plenty big and I’m only sharing it with two tiny dogs.

Storage Cons and Pros

The front cabin has a clothes hanging rack that can accommodate about 10 hangers and, if they are used, the clothes block the use of some shelves and counter space there. There are a handful of other cabinets and a drawer that, if organized properly, can hold all my clothes. Or most of them. I use a large space under the bed to store off-season clothes; I have tank tops and shorts in there now. The trouble with that space is that you have to lift the mattress — which means unmaking the bed — to get into it. So it’s the kind of space where I’ll store things I can wait a week or two to retrieve — basically accessing it only when I change the sheets. The lower cabin has no storage other than a shelf along side the bed and one at the head of the bed. Whoever sleeps in there needs to stow their clothes in there or live out of a suitcase that can be taken out and placed on a table bench at bedtime.

Inside the main cabin is enough space to store dishes, silverware, utensils, pots, pans, and non-perishable foods — but not much else. The fridge is about the same size as my camper fridge, but the freezer is barely large enough to make and store ice and the door storage is very limited. There’s a compartment under the helm seat where I am storing tools and related items — including the extra remotes the boat came with for things like the auto pilot and search light. I’ve been storing manuals, log books, charts, and reference materials on the very large “dashboard” forward of the helm; that keeps them out of the way but easily accessible in transit.

There’s a ton of storage space under the aft deck — which is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it offers space to keep relatively large things out of the way and dry but still relatively accessible. A curse because some of those things — like the generator — are heavy and they make the boat sit aft low in the water. This situation is not made any better by the fact that the dinghy, dinghy motor, and my electric bike are also in the back of the boat. There’s simply no place else to put any of these things. One of my projects when I get back to the boat later this month is to try to move things from under the aft deck to under the bed. There are a bunch of navigation reference guides in a box back there that will be the first to move.


Here’s one of my aft deck storage areas. This one is on the starboard side. From left to right is a waterproof box with the charging cable and accessories for my electric bike with a very complete Harbor Freight toolbox beneath it, an open plastic bin containing my 30 amp power cable and a heavy duty hose, my battery operated drill in its case, and a latching bin containing another hose and various hose-related items. The engine and thruster batteries are under the deck to the left in this photo and the inverter/charger is under the deck at the top of this photo.

I should add here that I’ve acquired several latching plastic bins to store loose items on and under the aft deck and under passenger bench seat on the command bridge. Storing like items together is the key (in my opinion) to organization and the ability to find things. There are a lot of things that come with the boat and will eventually be used but are not used very often. An example of that is the canvas covers for outdoor seating, the command bridge helm, and various windows and doors on board. Two shallow bins with latching tops make these easy to store upstairs under that bench seat where they’re out of sight and out of mind. And taller bins specifically chosen for the way they fit under the aft deck can store hoses, power cables, spare parts, and other smaller items that would too easily get lost if left loose.

Marina Life

So far, most of our overnight stops have been at full-service marinas. Slips or dock spaces include 30 amp power and water spigots. The marina facilities usually include restrooms and showers which we try to make use of. Marinas also usually have fuel and pump-out service; I like the idea of topping off when I get below 2/3 tank if the next fuel stop is more than 50 miles away.

Using a marina restroom means making less deposits into the toilet’s holding tank so I can do pump-outs less frequently. Regular use of the toilet means pumping out once every two weeks for just me or once a week for me and a friend; using the marina restroom 50% of the time doubles the amount of time between pump outs.

As for showering, the boat has a decent little shower that I’ve used exactly once. The water is plenty hot and the water pressure is good. The space isn’t that small, either. But you I usually get a better shower in the marina’s facilities. (There was one recent exception to this when I had the worst shower I’d ever had anywhere — at a marina.)

The boat’s galley is complete with a refrigerator, microwave, sink, two-burner stove, and oven. (It actually has two refrigerators and a wine cooler, but I keep that second fridge turned off for now.) I also brought along a one-cup electric coffee maker, a small Instant Pot, and a stick blender. So I can make just about anything in the galley that I can make at home. Still, it’s nice to go out for a meal once in a while. The marina at Grafton had an excellent restaurant right on the premises and we ate there three times. I had my first oysters of the season and first crawfish in years.

Making and Learning from New Friends

A marina’s amenities are part of the reason I like staying at marinas. The other part is meeting and socializing with other boaters.

I hosted my first ever “docktails” with folks in a Ranger Tug named Pony that was parked next to us at DuSable Marina in Chicago; it was their first ever docktails, too. We traveled together from Chicago to Ottawa, IL. We met their friends in a 42 foot Grand Banks named La Principessa (the Princess) at Jolliet and played tag with them at marinas, docks, and anchorages in Henry, Peoria, Barstow, Hardin, Grafton, and Alton. We met the super experienced owners and full-time liveaboards in the 48 foot Kadey Krogen named Nine Lives, sharing lock space and marinas with them several times on the Illinois River. Then there was the weather worried folks aboard the 40 foot Kha Shing Vista named Balclutha Too; I just discovered today that they lost one engine 100 miles north of Grafton — in an area with virtually no services — and managed to get to Portage du Sioux (between Alton and Grafton) for repairs. (If the timing is right, I might resume the trip with them at month end; it depends on how long their repairs take.) We also met sailors who were motoring with their masts stepped down in Black Majik and Yuca. I can track all of these people on the Nebo app and message them in the app or via text. It’s great to get news about conditions and facilities ahead of me on my trip from others as they pass through.

Most of these boaters have far more experience than I do and are willing to share what they know to make my journey easier. It’s a real pleasure to have them point out things I could do better or differently. I’m trying to be a sponge that soaks up experiences and information. These folks have been invaluable to me as sources of information and moral support. They’re one of the best things so far about my cruising life.

40-Day Opinion?

So far, I have to give my cruising life a two thumbs up. It’s not all sunshine and glassy smooth water, but it is the comfortable, doable, rewarding challenge that I hoped it would be.

I’m home now for three weeks to sell some jewelry at two shows, prep my house for its winter occupant, and touch base with local friends. I’ve already got my plane ticket back to the boat. Frankly, I’m counting the days until I can get back to it.

Dr. Bronners is Not the Answer

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I discover that a “do it all” biodegradable soap is not the answer to my on-the-water cleaning needs.

One of the things that bothers me about living on a boat is gray water — the water that drains away from sinks and showers. In the RV world, gray water is collected in its own separate waste tank. Although it can be dumped separately from black water (toilet waste), both tanks are often dumped together in a facility designed to receive it. But on a boat, gray water is drained directly into the body of water the boat is floating on. (Don’t worry; black water on a boat is contained in a tank and cannot be dumped anywhere on inland waterways or near shore.)

I remember the first time I realized this. It was in the 1980s and I was on a houseboating trip with some friends. One of us was washing dishes and I happened to look overboard and see soap suds on the surface of what I’d always thought was pristine Lake Powell. I was kind of horrified.

Lots of folks will argue that it’s “just a little soap” in a big body of water. And they would be right. But I tend to think on the macro level at times and thought: what if everyone just dumped their gray water into the nearest river, stream, or lake? Wouldn’t that hurt the fish and water birds?

So, like the environmentally conscious person I try to be, I thought I’d find a more environmentally friendly soap to use aboard my new boat, which I expect to be living on for months at a time.

Choosing Dr Bronners


Here’s what the Tea Tree scented Dr. Bronners bottle looks like.

Dr Bronner’s All-One Soap came to mind first. If you’ve ever been in a health food store or walked through the natural foods section of your supermarket, I’m sure you’ve seen it. It comes in plastic bottles absolutely covered in crazy fine print text. It’s supposed to be pure-castle soap and its website says its good for “Face, body, hair—food, dishes laundry, mopping, pets—the best for human, home, and Earth!” (I think someone in their marketing department needs a lesson in punctuation, although I am a fan of the Oxford comma.)

I think Peppermint may have been the original scent because that’s what I first used on camping trips years ago. It made my skin tingle. Later, I bought the Eucalyptus scent, which I preferred, for my campers. I used it in the bathroom for washing up, including showering. When I had really short hair, I used it for shampoo.

I figured that it would be convenient to have one soap I could use for everything, so I bought a large bottle and a small one — one for the galley and one for the head. I chose the Tea Tree scent because I wanted to associate a new smell with my new boat — I didn’t want it to smell like my RVs. And when I went out on my recent 10-day cruise around Puget Sound, that’s the only soap I brought along.

The Experiment

During the ten days I was away, I used Dr Bronners for washing anything that needed washing: my face, hands, body, and hair; dishes, pots, and pans; and laundry. And it didn’t take long to realize that Dr Bronners simply wasn’t doing it all, as its marketing materials claimed. Specifically:

  • As a body soap, it’s an astringent that sucks the oils out of your skin. While I like that in summer time when I’m sweaty and stinky, I don’t think it would be good in the winter. (I will likely continue to use it, however.
  • As a shampoo, it stripped all of the natural oils out of my hair, leaving it in a severely tangled mess. If I didn’t have the foresight to bring along some leave-in conditioner, I would have had to have my hair shaved off to remove the knots. (Knowing in advance how it was on skin gave me insight about how it might be on hair.)
  • As a dish soap, it could not sufficiently cut through grease, no matter how much I used or how hot the water was. No matter how many times I washed something greasy, there was always a thin, slick film left behind.
  • As a laundry soap, I just don’t feel sure that it really cleaned my clothes. I didn’t see any suds in the water, but since none of my clothes were really grimy, I have no way to judge how well it worked.

Before the end of my trip, I went out and bought a small bottle of Dawn dish detergent. It was pointed out to me that environmentalists use Dawn to clean oil off wildlife after spills, so there must be something environmentally friendly about it. (Or maybe it’s just more environmentally friendly than crude oil?) I just couldn’t deal with that layer of grease on my “clean” pots and pans.

Conclusion

As far as I’m concerned, the experiment is over. I’ll use up the rest of the Dr Bronners I have on board for washing my hands and face and showering. I’ll use my regular shampoo on my hair — heck, I take most showers at marina facilities anyway. I’ll use the same laundry detergent pods I use at home for my laundry, which is always done in a laundromat. And I’ll use Dawn (sparingly) for washing my dishes.

In the meantime, if you have any suggestions for more environmentally friendly cleaning products that actually work, please let me know. I want to do the right thing, but I also want clean things to be clean.