Snowbirding 2020 Postcards: Fishing from Camp

Posted on December 18, 2019 by Maria Langer

My friends have success fishing right from our campsite.

It started yesterday afternoon. Janet and I were down on the shoreline talking about how high the water had risen. (Water level here is determined by releases from the Parker and Palo Verde Dams 50+ and 10+ miles upriver from here respectively.) In general, fishing is better when the water level is higher. Obviously, so is boating. Janet loves to fish and I love to paddle so the higher the water level was, the happier we were.

As we stood there looking out at the water, fish were jumping. Big fish. Lots of them.

“Maybe I should throw a line in,” Janet said.

It was about 3 PM and we were supposed to go fishing earlier in the day at another site up the backwater channel. But our companions needed to make a propane run and the weather had become overcast and chilly. No one — except maybe Janet — seemed interested in going anymore.

Here’s Janet and her orange ear, after putting it on a stringer.

I was ready for a nap — or a least a few hours in my camper with Penny and a book. I went in. Janet took her fishing pole and worms out to the shrinking beach. I was stiff fussing around in my tiny kitchen area when she called out excitedly. I ran out in time to see her reeling in a fish. When I caught sight of it in the water, I thought it was small, but when she pulled it out, it turned out to be a decent sized orange ear — a very tasty edible fish. She’d gotten it on her first cast out.

Of course, I like to fish, too, especially when I can do it in some level of comfort. So I carried my fishing pole and camp chair down to the shore, put one of Janet’s worms on my hook, and cast out.

The jumping fish seemed to taunt us. It reminded me of a meteor shower where you feel lucky to see one or two meteors per minute. We were seeing one of two jumping fish per minute.

The two of us fished for at least a half hour but no more luck. I gave up first. I’d been steadily getting colder and was now really interested in that nap I’d been thinking about. I tossed my soggy worm into the water and took my chair and pole pack up to my camper. A few minutes later, I was stretched out on my bed with Penny and my iPad, reading.

Meanwhile, word had spread in our little camp. There are six of us here with six trailers/campers and four trucks. One of the other campers, Jeff from Canada, had cast out a line and set the pole on shore propped up on a forked stick. He put a small bell on the pole.

Jeff (with the pole) and Steve admire the channel catfish Jeff brought in. I love this photo mostly because of the late afternoon light.

We were all gathered around the campfire just before dinner when Penny took interest in something on the shore. Although I didn’t hear the bell, Jeff did. He jumped up and ran to his pole. A minute later, he was reeling in a pretty big channel catfish.

We’ve already had two fish dinners at camp — three, if you count the one I missed when I was in Phoenix over the weekend. While I’m not particularly fond of catfish, the orange ear and bass that are in here are very tasty. I’m sure we’ll fish some more to collect enough for another dinner. I hope I can contribute.

With some level of comfort, of course.

Snowbirding 2019: Bumming It In Phoenix and Apache Junction

Posted on March 2, 2019 by Maria Langer

I camp out at a friend’s house and, later, in a mudders’ playground.

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
•

At this point, you may have noticed that I’m not keeping my trip account up to date as well as I should. In fact, I’m about a month behind in my travels. But I’ve updated the list of posts to include the ones that I should have (but haven’t yet) written about. With luck, I’ll get around to them.

But for now, I figure it’s best to resume with my most recent trip segment: the six days I spent after leaving White Tanks Regional Park on Febrary 18.

One Thing Leads to Another

Did you ever have one of those days when you set out to do a simple task or two and other things start falling apart and need immediate attention? That was my Monday, President’s Day, after leaving the park.

There were two things that required attention that day:

One of the four brackets installed on my truck that my truck camper ties down to was loose. Given that I very often drive on rough roads, I figured it would be a good idea if all four of those brackets were as sturdy as they should be.
I needed propane. I was down to half a bottle. My rig carries two 5-gallon bottles and I like to have at least one of them full or nearly full at all times.

The first task was supposed to be the toughest. I got a recommendation from my friend Janet to try a place called State Trailer in Peoria, which was only about 10 miles from the park. I called first and the guy I spoke to, Scotty, told me they could look at it that afternoon.

I left the park at around 11:30 AM so I had time. I took Olive Avenue almost all the way. Along the way, I stopped for groceries at a Safeway with the nicest looking olive bar (coincidence?) I’d ever seen. So I loaded up on a few types of olives. I put my groceries away in the parking lot and continued on my way.

I got to State Trailer around 1 PM. I went in and met Scotty. He came out to take a quick look, agreed that it was loose, and directed me to park near one of their service bays. He then got another service guy out of the back of a truck he was working on and the two of them looked at the problem. It took a little research back inside before Scotty realized that there was supposed to be a sleeve inside the bracket. He had the other guy take the bracket apart and they found the sleeve where it had slipped inside where it didn’t belong. They got it put where it was supposed to go, put everything back together, and it was as good as new.

Meanwhile, I was shopping. State Trailer isn’t just a repair place. It also stocks and sells all kinds of RV parts and equipment. It has, by far, the best selection of RV gear I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying a lot. I’ve been in more RV shops than I can count. Camping World, which I always thought was pretty good, is a bad joke compared to this place. Seriously: if you’re in the Phoenix area and need anything for an RV, go here first. It will definitely save you time.

I wound up buying two things I need for my clamping setup back home: a propane powered instant hot water shower and a new two-burner propane stove. Best of all, they picked out the exact propane adapters and hoses I’d need to rig both devices up to one tank. I also bough RV toilet chemical, toilet paper, and chocks, all of which I needed for my current trip.

Good thing I bought that cargo trailer back in January. I had more crap to load into it. But for now, I just tossed it into the back seat of the truck.

State Trailer also sold propane so I figured I’d tank up there. I moved my rig around to the filling station and offloaded the empty tank. Then I decided I’d likely need my step to load it back in. The step was inside the trailer. I got the key and went to open the side door’s padlock.

The key wouldn’t work.

I jiggled and fiddled with it. I tried the other key. Crap. I’d known deep down inside that buying a “Brinks” brand lock in a Walmart would come back to haunt me.

I tried the key in the lock on the back door, which was keyed alike. That one opened. I got the step.

By that time, the propane guy was waiting for me. “Can’t fill it,” he said. “It’s expired.”

He showed me the manufacture date: April 2006. The tanks were only good for 12 years. For the past eight months, people had been illegally filling the tanks and he wasn’t going to do it, too.

I asked him where I could get it recertified. He handed me a slip of paper with the name, address, and phone number of a Ferrel Gas location closer to Phoenix. I tossed the empty tank into the back seat of the truck, locked the step back in the trailer, and got into the truck. I knew enough to call ahead; the place did certify tanks and would be open for another 90 minutes. I asked Google Maps to guide me there and got on my way.

Of course, I had to take Grand Avenue all the way down there. That means traffic lights. The 8-mile drive took about 30 minutes.

I pulled in and stopped by the filling station. There wasn’t much other room to park. I went inside the office and told the woman at the desk what I needed. A while later, I was handing the two tanks to a guy for him to do the certification.

While I waited, I fiddled with that damn lock again. No joy. I’d need it removed and replaced. I wasn’t in the mood to screw around with it. What if the other one decided to break, too?

The guy finished the certification process and filled the tanks. I installed one and he lifted the other into place. I connected them, opened their valves, and secured them. I put the step back into the trailer and locked it up. Then I went inside to pay.

The total was a little more than nine dollars.

“How much was the certification?” I asked the woman as I gave her a credit card. (I charge everything related to my business travel and this was business travel.)

“Normally, it’s $10 per tank, but it’s free if you fill the tank.”

That seemed like a pretty good deal to me.

Back in the truck, I asked Google Maps where the nearest locksmith was. There was one only a few miles away, almost due south. I called and explained my problem. He said he could help, so I started off.

The locksmith shop, which sold locks and safes, was in a neighborhood that made locksmithing a good business. They had a parking lot and, for a moment, I hesitated, not sure if I’d be able to turn around once I got in it. I envisioned a way and pulled in, then started backing up to point the truck back out toward the street.

The guy who’d answered the phone met me at the door. I showed him the key, praying it wouldn’t suddenly work and make me look like an idiot. It didn’t. He tried the key. He jiggled the key. No joy.

We went in. He sent someone else out to work on it. I assumed they’d cut it off — after all, that’s what the locksmith had done to get the lock off my hangar after my idiot wasband had changed the lock in a feeble attempt to lock me out.

Inside, the locksmith set me up with a pair of commercial Master brand locks that were keyed alike. I didn’t care if the other Brinks lock worked. I wanted it off the trailer.

The other guy came back in with the lock in his hand. It was in one piece. “How’d you get it off?” I asked.

“I picked it,” he replied.

Great.

They didn’t charge me to get the lock off. I paid for the new locks, went outside and installed them both on the trailer, and climbed back into the truck.

The Refrigerator

By this time, it was about 4 PM. I wanted to go to Cabellas and then figured I’d spend the night camped out in the parking lot for the casino near there. They were both off route 101, which was west of me. Traffic on I-10 westbound was just starting to get thick. I figured I’d parallel it on surface streets for a few miles before getting on I-10, taking it to the Loop 101, and heading north.

In the meantime, my friend Cheryl had called while I was in the locksmith shop. She and I were supposed to have lunch the next day. She’d also left a text message to call her as soon as I could. I called her back and spoke to her on speakerphone as I drove.

She wanted my advice about a refrigerator. She had a super fancy fridge in her kitchen with four separate compartments. Any of them could be configured as either refrigerator or freezer. She currently had one freezer and three refrigerator compartments. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted some more food storage space in her garage. Should she get a refrigerator with a freezer that she’d seen on Facebook Marketplace or a freezer she’d seen on Craig’s List?

She went back and forth between all the options until my head was spinning. Finally, I told her that the fridge she’d seen on Facebook seemed like the best solution.

That’s when she asked me where I was and where I was going and if I could go pick it up for her.

It took me a moment to comprehend that she was asking me to pick up a refrigerator for her. Not a quart of milk or a vacuum cleaner in a repair shop. A refrigerator.

I told her I was heading west on whatever road I was on and that I was going to Cabellas on the Loop 101. She told me that was very close to where Salvador, who owned the fridge, lived, which was off I-17. I blinked. Cabellas on Loop 101 was nowhere near I-17. There was miles of surface streets between them with many traffic lights. It would take at least 45 minutes to get from one to the other in rush hour traffic. When I tried to explain that to her, she sounded doubtful.

“I’ve been out that way and it’s very close,” she said.

I didn’t want to argue with Cheryl. She’s a very sweet lady. She and her husband Mike were incredibly supportive to me during my extremely ugly and (in hindsight) rather ridiculous divorce battle. So I told her to text me Salvador’s address, just to see where it really was. We hung up.

I was heading north toward I-10 when I stopped at a light and looked at his address on Apple Maps. I realized that if I got on I-10 heading eastbound I could hop on I-17 and be at his place in 20 minutes. The light turned green, I drifted into the right lane and got on the freeway heading east. I called Cheryl. “Tell Salvador I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Okay,” she said and hung up.

As I drove, I wondered where the hell I was going to put a refrigerator. The trailer was pretty damn full. Maybe if I moved the generator and barbecue grill? But would it even fit though the side door? And wasn’t it a good thing I’d gotten that lock replaced?

Salvador lived in a quiet but rather run down neighborhood. I parked along the curb and went to his door. I rang the bell. Twice. Finally, the door opened a crack and a man’s eye appeared.

“I’m looking for Salvador,” I said.

He replied in Spanish. Of course. He said something about a dog — likely the one I could hear barking in the background. Then he opened the door wider. He was huge and not in a football player kind of way. More like in a “Biggest Loser” kind of way. A teenage girl came into view. And then a woman. They spoke English. After a moment, they directed me to go around to the back yard.

The fence, which was as tall as me, was locked. After a moment, someone on the other side opened the padlock. (It obviously wasn’t a Walmart Brinks.) All three of them were there. There was a nice pool and a relatively nice outdoor kitchen. They led me to the back patio where a small apartment-sized refrigerator stood. It was in good condition and clean inside. I told them I needed to make room in the trailer and would be right back.

Back at the trailer, I went in through the side door and moved the grill and generator to the back of the trailer. Then I went into my camper to fetch $125. Then I went back into the yard.

Refrigerator in Trailer
Here’s the refrigerator, jammed into an empty spot beside the side door. The E-track is mounted low on that side of the trailer so I kept worrying about the fridge falling over as I drove.

While I was gone, they’d fetched a hand truck. I’d brought a saddle blanket from the truck to prevent it from being scratched. I handed over the money and the three of us got the refrigerator onto the hand truck and out to the street. We worked together to get it in through the trailer’s side door and I pushed it into place. I fastened it to the E-Track I’d installed using an extra ratchet tie-down. I used a long bungee cord to keep the freezer door shut. Then we all said goodbye and I climbed back into the truck.

I asked Google Maps to take me to Cheryl’s house. It gave me the wrong directions. (You must approach Cheryl’s house from the east no matter how Google directs you.) Fortunately, I knew how to make the wrong directions right and navigated into her driveway.

I had to ring the bell twice to get her to the door. Then she was all excited about seeing me and Penny and getting the refrigerator. She called a neighbor to help get it out of the trailer and he arrived quickly. A while later, it was in its new home.

I moved my rig to a spot along a drive in their side yard that I thought was level enough for a one night stay. Then I grabbed an open bottle of wine, those olives, and Penny’s leash and went with Penny into the house.

At the Airpark

Cheryl and Mike live at an airpark. If you’re not familiar with the term, its a community built on a private runway. Mike flies for the airlines and has a helicopter services business. He also owns two Bonanzas — although I’m not sure why anyone needs two of the same plane, even if they do have different engines. They have an amazing custom home that overlooks the runway and the city of Phoenix to the north.

Mike was in Los Angeles on helicopter business. Cheryl and I ate leftover spaghetti and meatballs, salad, olives, and wine. We chatted for a long while, getting up to date on what we’d been up to since we’d last seen each other. The evening wore on.

Finally, I took my leave, going back to the camper with Penny. The night was cool and clear. As we walked through the yard, I could see planes on final approach to Sky Harbor.

I had a good night’s sleep in the camper. Although Cheryl and Mike have a guest house that I’ve stayed at in the past, it didn’t seem worth messing the place up for just one night. I was comfortable enough in the camper.

Kitty
Kitty, lounging in the early morning sun.

Cheryl texted me in the morning, inviting me for coffee. I went over without Penny. Cheryl has a cat and was worried about it having a problem with Penny; the previous evening, she’d locked it in the laundry room.

She offered up a shower and because I’m no idiot and my camper’s shower is so disappointing, I said yes. A while later, she was punching buttons on their computerized shower stall, setting me up with her program: two shower heads, 105°F water. “Unless you prefer a steam shower,” she said.

I assured her that water was fine. It was actually better than fine. I took a long 105°F shower and enjoyed every minute of it.

Our plans for lunch were up in the air. Mike was coming back and would be home by 2 or 3, depending on what plane he caught. We finally decided to run some errands — Target, Ikea, Total Wine — first and then meet Mike at a Chinese buffet for an early dinner. I would, of course, spend another night.

We did all that and I was well-behaved, buying only a few small things at Target and Ikea. Total Wine, however, was my stop. I bought a few bottles of wine and some Mescal and Rakia for my bar at home. (Alcohol is heavily taxed in Washington state.)

It was good seeing Mike, who I hadn’t seen in about two years. The restaurant’s buffet was actually good and we all ate more than we should have.

Back at the house, we went our separate ways. I know Cheryl was tired and figured Mike would be, too, after traveling. But I was only in my camper for a short while when Mike texted. “Come on down to the hangar,” he said.

So Penny and I went down. We found him in there flying a small DJI drone knockoff. That’s when I saw the two Bonanzas and he explained that they had different engines so they really weren’t the same plane. (Okay.) He had one of his Hillers tucked against the far wall. Believe it or not, he’s still trying to get me to buy one.

Hangar Pano
Here’s a pano shot of the inside of Mike’s hangar. The last time I was there, he had two different planes in there.

We chatted while he tried hard to fix the network problem he was having with his hangar’s internet connection. Once that was solved, he was done. We left the hangar and he locked it up while Penny and I went back to the camper.

Cheryl texted a while later, asking me to come over. So, once again, I ventured out to the house, this time without Penny. She’d taken a nap and was embarrassed about it. We chatted while Mike practiced bagpipes with a silent device he listened to with earphones. The cat sat on my lap.

They invited me to join them on a trip to Apache Junction to see a motorhome they planned to buy. They were leaving at 6:30 AM the next morning. I was noncommittal. I had a feeling it would take a long time and I really did need to leave.

Sure enough, they texted me at 6:30 Wednesday morning, telling me they were on their way. They’d left the casita open if I wanted to use it to take a shower.

I made coffee and brought my laptop over to the casita to charge the battery. Then Penny and I went for a 2-1/2 mile walk around the neighborhood. It was warm and sunny and I was stripped down to my tee-shirt before we were done. Properly sweated up, I headed for the shower. I think I took an even longer shower that day and washed my hair, knowing it might be my last good shower for a while.

I spent the next hour or so prepping the camper for the next leg of my journey and researching where my next stop might be. I had options, but the easy one might inconvenience some friends and I really didn’t want to do that. I knew I had three stops to make before I settled in for the night somewhere. I also knew that I had to be settled in before nightfall in a spot I could stay until Saturday morning. Arizona was expecting a major winter storm to hit that night and there was heavy rain in the forecast for Thursday and Friday. I didn’t want to be wandering around in the rain, wondering where I was going to spend the night. So I had to leave Cheryl and Mike’s place by 3 PM.

Cheryl got back at around 2:30. She apologized for not hanging around but told me she needed a nap since she would be entertaining other friends that night. I understood. Although I was disappointed that I wouldn’t see the new motorhome — Mike was still out and about with it — I really couldn’t wait. So we said our goodbyes and I headed out.

Errands in Mesa

I had three stops in the Mesa area.

First, I had to stop at Jan and Tiffani’s house, which is technically in Gilbert. They’d received two items in the mail for me and I needed them both. Although Tiffani had invited me to stay with them again, Jan was very sick with a cold and I didn’t want to be a bother. So I stopped there, got the packages from Jan, told him I hoped he’d feel better soon, and ran before he could get me sick.

Next, I had to stop to get a permit from BLM to camp in the Bulldog Canyon area. I’d researched the area and had spoken to the office earlier in the day. The permit was free and it came with the combination to the gate locks that kept unauthorized people out. The ranger suggested two areas for camping but claimed he knew nothing about the terrain and whether it was suitable for my rig.

Finally, I had to stop at Falcon Field Airport to pick up my orchid. I’d left the damn thing at Jan and Tiffani’s house in early January and it had gone into bloom since then. Tiffany had brought it to the office where it was still blooming. I fetched it, said hello and goodbye to other friends there, and got back on the road.

At Bulldog Canyon

I used Google Maps to guide me to one of the gates into the Bulldog Canyon area: the Wolverine Gate. The roads ran through a neighborhood on the northern boundary of Apache Junction, turning to dirt along the way. There was a parking area with a few vehicles in it and the gate.

The gate was wide open.

The weather forecast called for a hell of a lot of rain and unusually cold temperatures. Remember — I was only about 25 miles from Phoenix.

I drove in. My goal was to find a suitable parking spot where I could hunker down during a severe winter storm that was expected to begin that night. It needed to be relatively level and, for sanity’s sake, not right near anyone likely to run a generator all hours of the day and night. Because I was towing, it also needed to be a space I could either pull through or back into with my rig, which was about 40 feet long in total length.

I drove for about a mile on the winding road as it climbed into the hills. Every single appropriate campsite was occupied. Lots of people were also driving around in off-road vehicles — mostly side by side ATVs. I stopped in a spot that might have been okay and consulted the satellite view to see what was farther up the road. Nothing — not even a place to make a U-turn. I decided to try the next gate so I turned around and drove back out.

By that time the gate was closed. There was an off-road vehicle in front of me and the driver got out to open the gate. We both drove through and he pulled over to close it behind me.

Relying on the Google Maps satellite image, I found the next gate and navigated towards it. This was the A1-Pit entrance. By this time, it was getting late and sunset was less than an hour away. I resolved to settle in the very first spot I found.

The road to the gate was in terrible condition, with deep potholes and huge winding ruts of erosion. My camper makes my truck very top heavy so I drove slowly and carefully, working hard to keep my rig as level as possible. Along the way, I passed a few other forlorn looking campsites that looked as if they’d been there for months, if not years. One had a torn awning; another had a lot of trash in bags outside. Squatters. I was starting to regret not saying with Jan and Tiffani.

I was about 4/10 of a mile from the gate (per Google Maps) when I saw a big clearing to my right. There were signs that the area got very muddy in rain — tire tracks criss-crossed the whole area. But the north east edge looked higher with a fine gravel instead of dirt. It also looked as if it might be somewhat level. I decided to camp there.

For this particular campsite, I had no need to unhook the trailer or offload the camper. Instead, I disconnected the camper tie-downs and dropped its two back legs to lift the back end off my truck. This did two things: it leveled the camper (which was parked facing up a little slope) and it stabilized the whole setup (which was prone to rocking with my movement inside and/or the wind). That done, I fetched the generator out of the trailer and set it up under the back end of the camper, where it would be (mostly) out of the rain. I knew that if it was completely cloudy, my solar panels would not recharge my batteries and I certainly didn’t want to set up the generator in the rain. That done, I set up the grill and grilled up a piece of salmon I’d defrosted for dinner. Then Penny and I went in for the evening, which was already getting cold.

Superstition Sunset
I had a clear view of Superstition Mountain from the back of my camper. At sunset the light got very good.

The rain started at about 3 AM. I know the time because I heard the rain on the camper’s roof. My summer work makes me very sensitive to the sound of rain and it always wakes me now.

The rain came and went. I got out of bed at around 6 AM and made coffee. Penny went out between rain squalls. Was this the big storm they’d been forecasting? If so, I wasn’t impressed.

Radar Rain
Here’s the radar picture at 1:45 PM on Thursday.

I got impressed later, just after noon, when the rain started up again and didn’t stop. It rained nonstop for the remainder of the day and into the night. It was still raining when I went to bed and, fortunately, the steadiness of it didn’t wake me up. It was still raining in the morning when I woke up. In fact, it didn’t stop raining until 8 AM or 9 AM — and even then it was just a pause.

Meanwhile, Penny and I hunkered down in the camper. It was difficult getting her out for a pee in the rain before we turned in for the night, but she finally went. I watched her from the window as she tried to find the perfect spot for her business while being pelted with rain drops. At one point, it looked as if she thought, “Oh, fuck it,” and just went where she was before running back to the door.

Although my solar panels did pick up some power during the day, they could not keep up with the power use from my forced hot air propane heater. I had decided early on in this trip that I was not going to be uncomfortable, so I ran the heat as much as I needed to stay comfortable. Yes, this meant using up propane and wearing down the camper’s batteries. But hell, it wasn’t as if I couldn’t buy more propane or recharge the batteries. My rule-of-thumb target is to have 85% or more of battery power at sunset; when I didn’t have that, I went out and started the generator. I let it run for about two hours, when it ran out of fuel; I had purposely neglected to top it off because I wanted to make sure I had some fuel in reserve in the 2 gallon can I keep in the trailer.

Ever wonder what 40 feet of 18 gauge fine silver wire looks like? Here you go.
I pay by weight based on current silver prices. This weighed in at 3.31 Troy ounces. pic.twitter.com/XbBNZaAsTE
— Maria Langer 🌵🌞 (@mlanger) February 21, 2019

In case you’re wondering what I did in a tiny camper for two full days, I actually had a project to finish that required me to sit still for two days. One of my friends had admired a copper bracelet I made that I wear all the time. She wanted me to make her a three-strand fine silver necklace in the same design. I’d ordered the silver and it had arrived at Jan and Tiffani’s place — that’s one of the packages I picked up. I had all my tools in my camper with me — I’d moved them into cabinets while I was still at Cheryl and Mike’s place so I wouldn’t have to go out into the trailer in the rain. With everything I needed close at hand and nothing better to do with my time, I worked on the necklaces. I even live-Tweeted some of the progress.

Of course, the mudders started arriving around 5 PM on that first rainy day. These were mostly men in pickup trucks with loud engines and big tires. That’s when I realized that I was parked along the edge of their favorite playground. Seeing me there turned away a few of them — they found other places to play farther up the road. But some of the more stubborn ones played nearby anyway, revving their engines, spinning their tires, and fishtailing through the mud. I guess it was fun — for them. Not so good for the road or the vegetation alongside it since they just made the potholes deeper and occasionally ran off the road into the cholla cacti or mesquite and creosote bushes. One young woman, probably trying to show off that she could keep up with the boys, spun around dangerously close to my rig, spraying it with mud. Most of it washed off in the rain over the next 24 hours, but there was enough caught on my window to get into the doorframe when I rolled my window down. That took some effort on my part a few days later to fix.

They came and went throughout the evening and even after dark. By around 9 PM, they were gone, but they returned the next day. That day wasn’t quite as bad since most of them went past me and had their fun elsewhere.

When the rain paused on that second day, I poured the remaining gasoline I had into the generator’s tank. I had a little trouble getting it started, but it did roar to life after about a half-dozen pulls on the cord. (Those Honda generators really rock.) It had been so cold during the night that the heater was running almost non-stop and the batteries were very low. When the clouds cleared, I could see the Superstition Mountains with a heavy dusting of snow.

Superstition Mountains
What a difference two days makes! Superstition Mountain on Friday morning, around 10:30 AM.

Penny
Penny spent a lot of time lounging on the bed during those two days.

Understand that a storm like this is very unusual for the Phoenix area. We got nearly 2 inches of rain (per Weather Underground weather stations in the area) and Phoenix Sky Harbor broke a 24-hour rain record. Phoenix normally gets less than 10 inches of rain a year and it got nearly 20% of that in two days. And the snow — well its very rare indeed to see snow on mountains close to Phoenix, yet the Superstitions, Red Mountain, the McDowells, and Four Peaks were all covered with the stuff. The snow level had come down to less than 3,000 feet. Down in Tucson, they got enough snow to build snowmen in some areas and the police made a hilarious video about it.

The rain continued on and off all Friday afternoon. It was still raining when I went to bed, which had me a bit concerned. I had to leave in the morning before 7 AM and I didn’t like the look of the road. Would I be able to get out without sliding off the road or getting stuck in one of those huge potholes made even bigger by the mudders? I honestly didn’t know.

Superstition Rainbow
Another shot of Superstition Mountain, this time at about 5:25 PM on Friday. You can see the damage done to the road by the mudders over the past two days. And yeah: that’s a rainbow.

The Apache Junction Art Show

I was out of bed making coffee by 5:30 AM the next morning. That gave me 90 minutes to have breakfast, pack up my generator and grill (which were both still out), raise the camper legs, strap down the camper to the truck, and get to downtown Apache Junction, where I was participating in an art show.

The rain had stopped during the night and the sky was clear. Although the sun hadn’t risen before I got under way, I had enough light to work and to see Superstition Mountain with its thick cap of snow. It was bitter cold, though — near freezing — and I did have to put on gloves to adjust the length of the tie-down straps to secure the camper properly. Then it was time to pull out.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about traveling with a camper or trailer (or both, in this case) is that even though I have a AAA safety net for emergencies, I can save a lot of time and heartache by not having an emergency. So I pulled out slowly, shifted the truck into 4WD as soon as I was out of the sharp turn onto the road, and drove at idle speed back to pavement. Looking back, I saw that I had chosen my campsite well: it was the only spot in the area that didn’t have thick mud.

I was all over the road on the way back to pavement. That was on purpose — not once did I lose control. The road was covered with a fine gravel that seemed to prevent it from turning into that thick, snotty mud that’s so common on Arizona’s dirt roads after the rain. With no sliding to worry about, I could concentrate on avoiding the huge holes and ruts, or at least entering them carefully with all wheels. My tire tracks must have made it seem as if I were a drunk because I took no heed to sticking to one side of the road. I passed two vehicles coming in and each of them gave me right of way. They probably couldn’t believe I’d gone in with my rig in the first place.

Then I was on pavement. The run rose as I drove the five miles into town.

I arrived early enough to stop for fuel before homing in on the place I needed to go for the show. Once there, I handled some last minute paperwork and set up under a covered walkway — although that had been my preference (so I wouldn’t have set up a tent for this one-day show), the complete lack of sun kept my space very cool until well after noon.

It wasn’t a big show, but it did draw a respectable crowd. I was between a quilter who admitted that her price point was too far above the shoppers and a photographer who specialized in photos of wild horses and sold a ton of note cards. My sales got off to a slow start but picked up, making the small event worthwhile for me.

4 PM came and we all packed up. After loading my trailer, I was one of the last to leave.

The Other Bulldog Canyon

I found myself at 5 PM in Apache Junction with no campsite. There was a big event going on with a rodeo and a fair and traffic was crazy. I remembered one of the ranger’s recommendations from Wednesday and decided to try a north entrance to Bulldog Canyon. That (I thought) would put me in a good location for Sunday’s planned trip to Fountain Hills, where my friends Janet and Steve were selling her artwork at a huge art show.

So I headed out of town on Usary Pass Road and turned onto the Bush Highway heading east. All along the way, people were parked alongside the road taking pictures of snow in the mountains. It really was a big deal. Four Peaks looked amazing and I almost pulled over once myself. But I kept going; the last thing in the world that I wanted was to be searching in the dark for a campsite after a long day.

I found the entrance to the park and turned off Bush Highway. The gate was closed and locked but I had the combination and opened it. I think the hardest part was moving the heavy metal bar back into position after I’d driven through.

Beyond the gate was a road with pull-offs that were occupied by RVs — despite the fact that no camping is supposedly allowed within a half mile of the gate. I went past them all. I found a bigger site occupied by three separate rigs that I probably could have pulled into, but just beyond them was a road intersection that was wide enough for me to back into without blocking. Since I planned to be out before 9 AM and it would be dark soon anyway, I squeezed into that. I was very pleased to have a gorgeous view of Four Peaks out my back window.

Four Peaks Sunset
Last light hits Four Peaks, which are uncharacteristically covered with snow. This is the view from my campsite.

I pulled out the grill and grilled up a nice pork tenderloin for dinner. Then I went in with Penny for the night and got started on this blog post.

Coyotes howled in the moonlight very close to us during the night, but I didn’t hear a single other sound. I slept like the dead.

Snowbirding 2019: In Mesa and Gilbert

Posted on January 15, 2019 by Maria Langer

I take a break from camping and spend some time selling rocks and visiting friends.

With my Colorado River Backwater vacation over, it was time to get back to work. I was scheduled to participate as a vendor in the annual Flagg Gem and Mineral Show in Mesa, AZ from January 4 through 6, so that was my next stop.

Setting Up My Booth

I headed east on I-10, letting Google Maps direct me to the Mesa Community College campus where the event would be held. At about 3:45 PM, I was following a young guy on foot to the space in the covered parking area to where my booth would be.

There was not much I could set up. After all, I’d chosen space under the covered parking area so I wouldn’t have to set up my tent shelter. But although that saved me some work, it also made some extra work for me. Without the tent and its sides, I couldn’t just leave my merchandise out overnight. There was no point in setting up more than just the tables to mark my space. So that’s what I did: I pulled the three folding tables out of my truck’s back seat area and set them up in a row along the outside edge of my booth space.

I should mention here that my booth space was huge: 14 x 28, I think. I didn’t need that much space, but it was the smallest space they offered. This was a big contrast to the 5 x 8 space I’m allowed at Pybus Public Market in Wenatchee where I do most of my selling. Rather than the usual challenge of cramming my wares into a tiny space, I had the unusual challenge of spreading everything out so it looked as if it filled the space.

The “Rough” Cargo Trailer

Meanwhile, I’d been texting back and forth with the owner of a cargo trailer listed on Craig’s List in Chandler. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that he was only 4 miles away from the show. I headed over to see the trailer.

The owner, Dan, lived in a kind of cool neighborhood in Chandler. From the street, it looked like any other subdivision, but each home had a very deep back yard — so big, in fact, that I suspect many of his neighbors had horses. Dan had a goat — the biggest goat I’d ever seen. It was very friendly and kept coming up to us to be petted. He also had a pit bull mix dog who was equally friendly but not quite as annoying about it. And he had a big garage in the back yard (although not as big as mine; as if anyone’s is).

He’d bought the trailer three years ago from someone else on Craig’s List to use as a storage shed for his tools until his garage was finished. Now that his garage was done, he didn’t need it anymore and wanted to sell it.

The trailer was in reasonable condition. Sure, it had some dents — thus his description of it being “rough” — but it was solid. It was outfitted the way I wanted: side door, back barn doors (vs a ramp), and two axles. It even had a screen vent and lighting (which needed some work). I could stand up straight in it. The price was good, but I’ve learned never to offer the listed price for anything on Craig’s List. (Frankly, you’re an idiot if you ask your best price since everyone wants a deal.) I offered him 10% less and he took it. He agreed to hold onto it until I was ready to come get it. I told him that might be Monday and he was okay with that. I also took a close look at the plug for the connection to my truck since it seemed that it might not be long enough to reach the truck with the hitch extension I needed to use with the camper on top. I went back to the camper, raided my mobile bank, and paid him. He gave me the title.

I do admit I had buyer’s remorse several times until I picked it up. What if it was too big? Had I paid too much? Did I really want to tow a trailer for the rest of this trip? Did I really need a trailer? The usual. All that cleared up a few days later when I put it to use.

Friends in Gilbert

From there, I went to Gilbert, where I’d be staying with friends. Tiffani and Jan have a house in a subdivision there with a guest room that’s always available for me and Penny. They’re great people and lots of fun and I know they think I don’t drink enough and go to bed too early. (I’m just not a party animal.)

I backed into their driveway, in front of the door to the extra garage they didn’t use, not sure whether overnight street parking was allowed there. (It was, fortunately.) Then I went inside where I was greeted by Jan. Tiffani came a short while later with a pizza to put in the oven. A while later we were eating pizza and drinking wine and watching something on television with the volume turned way up.

I did my laundry in their enormous washer and dryer. I was wearing my last clean pair of underwear and only had one pair of socks left. My jeans were so dirty I think I could have grown potatoes in them. The washer was so big, I only needed to do two loads, although I suspect that if I didn’t care about whites vs. darks I could have gotten it all — including my camper’s sheets — into one load. When the first load was dry and I had clean clothes to put on, I took a long, hot shower. It wasn’t until then that I felt as if I was done camping for a while.

At the Flagg Gem and Mineral Show

I put out two boxes of rock from a Washington friend to sell. A slab of obsidian was the first thing I sold, but it was also the only slab I sold all weekend. Go figure.

The next day, I was out by 7 AM and on my way to the gem show. The show opened at 9 AM and I had until then to set up. After offloading most of my stuff, I backed the truck and camper into a spot against the fence. Then I went about putting the table cloths on the tables and setting up my easels for pendants and earrings, my display pieces for rings and bracelets, and the display boxes for cabochons. I also put out boxes of petrified wood and obsidian slabs I’d brought from Washington; if there was any place I could sell them, this would be it. Of course, I never took a picture of my booth.

The show was pretty big and well managed — which makes sense considering it’s been an annual event for more than 50 years. Lots of vendors selling everything: rough stone, slabs, cabs, specimens, display pieces, beads, and, of course, jewelry. The organizers of the event required every booth to have at least 75% of its merchandise related to stone or jewelry so there weren’t the usual vendors selling salsa or microfiber cloths or blenders that you see at so many shows these days.

The other vendors were very friendly. The couple behind me, who were from Idaho, sold mostly Asian-made stone items such as bowls and statues and display pieces. The wife was completely entranced with Penny, who I had tied up in my booth for much of the first day. The guy west of me owned a local prospecting shop and was promoting his business, as well as selling metal detectors, books, and all kinds of prospecting equipment. The woman east of me was Native American, selling mostly beaded jewelry. Across from me were some guys who owned a nearby coffee shop that featured jewelry and items from local artists; they were selling mostly turquoise cabochons at prices a bit beyond what I like to spend.

I spent most of the first day cataloging the stones I’d purchased the day before and putting them on display in the appropriate box. I have my cabochon boxes sorted by price: $10 and Under, $15 to $20, and $25 and over. (I wish everyone did this.) Although I originally began displaying my cabochons to give people an opportunity to pick one for a custom pendant, I soon began selling cabochons to people who just wanted the stones. That’s fine with me since I mark up all the stones I sell — and sell ones I’ve polished myself — so I make money on every sale. It’s actually better when I’m really busy, since special orders can get stacked, making them difficult to fill in the two hours I say I can fill them in. At this event I sold about two dozen cabochons and took special orders for three pendants. I also sold some pendants that were already made, along with some earrings, a bracelet, and a ring.

Friday was a bit slow, but things picked up on Saturday, which is when I started selling more jewelry than rocks. A man who had taken a deep interest in my recently completed rosary came back with his wife for a second look. I could tell that they really liked it, but the $140 price tag may have been too high. (It’s a lot lower than the $180 I’d originally wanted to price it at.) I sold out on all my K2 granite stones — I started the day with seven of them — and also sold a bunch of bumble bee jasper. And I sold a handful of cabochons that I’d made from Washington state obsidian and petrified wood, leaving me without samples of finished stones to help sell the slabs.

Here are two of the five pieces I made on Friday and Saturday: Tiger Tail Jasper in sterling silver and Kingman Turquoise in copper and sterling silver. The turquoise piece sold literally two minutes after I put it on the display board — the buyer was standing right there when I hung it — thus reinforcing my belief that I need to buy more turquoise stones.

The Vehicle Shuffle

In the meantime, I’d asked security if I could leave my camper parked overnight in the lot. They said I could, as long as I didn’t sleep in it. No problem. On Friday, I dropped the camper’s legs and moved the truck out, then lowered the camper nearly as low as it would go. I didn’t bother with the sawhorses since I wouldn’t be spending much time in it. So on Friday evening, when I returned to my friend’s place in Gilbert, the truck was camperless.

That made it a lot easier to pick up the trailer, which I did on Saturday after the show. I’d brought along the hitch extender from home — I suspected that I might buy a trailer while I was in Arizona — and put that in place to see how the trailer would tow at the end of it. I was ready to try to back out of the deal if it looked as if the trailer was too heavy for it. Dan was still home — he told me he had plans to go out that evening — and helped me, which made things a lot quicker. Satisfied that the trailer would be okay at the end of the hitch extender and that the wire might even reach, we disconnected it and reconnected without the hitch extender.

The trailer did have two immediate problems:

The trailer had no license plate, making it a perfect target for any cop who wanted an easy ticket to write.
My truck was so tall that the trailer’s front wheels were off the ground. I assumed that once the camper was back on the truck the rear end of the truck would come down enough to make that problem go away.

I didn’t consider either problem too serious to drive away, so I did, already feeling a little better about my purchase. I parked in the road in front of my friend’s house that evening. It looked pretty funny with those wheels off the ground.

Overnight, it rained hard. I’d wondered a bit whether the trailer leaked — there was a dent in the front driver’s side near the top — but it was bone dry inside in the morning. I took it with me to the gem show, where I arrived after 9 AM, and parked near where I’d left the camper.

Sunday at the Show

The show was off to a slow start that morning, with a lot of very wet booths and no shoppers. I was glad I’d packed up everything except my tables before leaving the night before. I debated whether I’d bother setting up for the last day. I told myself that if I saw blue sky to the west when I arrived, I would. I didn’t see any blue sky at all.

Slabs are usually on display in water because when they’re wet they give you a good indication of what they might look like when polished. This vendor’s display clearly identified the rocks and where they were from. I took photos of the displays so I could document the stones later on.

I decided to do a little shopping. I walked up and down the rows of the rock seller booths, looking for inexpensive cabochons and slabs. I found plenty and spent much of the $120 I’d brought with me that morning. (I’d somewhat wisely left much of what I’d taken in the day before back at the house.) I wound up buying two nice turquoise stones from a mine in New Mexico — that stood me back $43. (Ouch!) I also bought some very inexpensive slabs. And a nice pair of perfectly matched mookiate jasper cabochons for earrings.

Along the way, I stopped at a rock club booth where a bunch of older guys were chatting together. I asked if anyone could help me identify some slabs I had. They said to bring them over. So when I was done shopping and had dropped off my purchases in the truck, I returned with a box full of slabs. By that time, most of the guys were gone, but one person suggested I talk to “Richard” and another brought me to Richard’s booth and introduced me.

What followed was about 45 minutes of me pulling out slabs and Richard telling me all about them, including how they were formed and where they were most likely from. I pulled off pieces of masking tape, wrote the info he provided on them, and stuck them on the rocks. I stumped him once or twice and to make up for it, he’d reach into one of his boxes of slabs on display for sale and hand me another slab, telling me that it was like another one I had. It took me a moment to realize that he wanted me to keep these rocks, too. Soon he was giving me more rocks than he was identifying. It took a little effort to keep him focused, but we finally got through them all.

I told him I wanted to buy him lunch and he said no. So I asked what I could do for him.

“Buy some rocks,” he said.

“But you already gave me a dozen of them,” I replied. “My box is full.” I handed him a $20 bill, which was all I had left.

“Do you want change?” He asked.

“No, I’m good,” I told him.

He gave me another six or so slabs, telling me what each one was. Then he pulled out a gorgeous piece of imperial jasper marked $10. “Do you like this one?” He asked.

“Yes,” I told him. “It’s gorgeous. But I don’t have any money left.”

“Just take it.”

He handed it to me and I put it in my box with the others. Then I thanked him and made a quick departure before he could give me any more.

Leaving the Show

I dropped off my rocks in the truck. By this time, it was after 1 PM. The sun was breaking through the clouds and there were shoppers around. About a quarter of the vendors hadn’t set up that morning. I debated only briefly about setting up. It would take at least 30 minutes to dry off the tables and get them set up again and the event ended at 4 PM. It wasn’t worth it.

So I packed up the tables and stuck them into the trailer with anything else that was large. I had no way to tie anything down, so I left my jewelry and cabochon cases in the truck, not wanting the cases to get damaged if they shifted around.

I disconnected the trailer and put the hitch extension back on with the hitch on the end. I raised the camper, backed under it, and lowered it onto the truck. I fastened the tie-down straps. Then I backed up to the trailer with the assistance of a man who saw me backing up and came over to help. I hooked up the trailer and plugged it in. The cord just reached. Success!

Here’s my truck, camper, and new old trailer in the parking lot right after hooking them up. It would be a few days before I got the kayak and tent frame off the camper roof.

Well, partial success. The front wheels of the trailer didn’t make firm contact with the ground, so I’d need to get a drop hitch. And since my truck knows when there’s a trailer plugged in, I learned quickly that every time I made a right turn, the plug would come undone. That means I needed a longer cable or extension.

I stopped at Walmart and Napa and picked up various supplies to drop the hitch and rewire the plug to the trailer. I’d do it all in the morning, I figured. I was in no really hurry to leave.

Purple Nail Polish, MVD, and Visiting another Friend

I always choose boring colors for my nails. This time, I picked something crazy. Lavendar?

On Monday, which was Tiffani’s extra day off from work — she’s off Sunday, too — she scheduled pedicures for herself, Jan, and me. So after I treated her for breakfast, we met Jan at her regular nail place and settled in for a good foot pampering.

Then it was errands. She needed to run up to Scottsdale to pick up medicine for one of her cats. I needed to go to motor vehicle to get a temporary permit to legally tow the trailer up to Washington. She very graciously volunteered to drive me there so I wouldn’t have to take my truck with camper and trailer attached to motor vehicle where parking might be scarce.

By then, I was on hold with USPS. A package I was expecting from India had been recorded as arrived in Phoenix but not scanned in. It had been in limbo for about two weeks and I needed to follow up. We were near the head of the line at MVD over an hour after starting the call when someone finally answered. He was unable to provide any additional information and told me to call DHL, which is the company that supposedly handed off the missing package. Good thing I hadn’t sat around waiting for them to answer. Instead, I managed to wait on hold for one bureaucracy while waiting on line for another, thus wasting time while wasting time. (Oddly enough, ten minutes after he told me he couldn’t help me, my phone pinged with a notification that the package had been scanned in and would be delivered by the end of the week. Coincidence? You tell me.)

When we were done with motor vehicle, we headed north. Tiffani had to pick up Jan at Falcon Field Airport, where their company is based. She knew I had another friend I planned to meet up with who lived up there and suggested I visit him instead of going all the way up to Scottsdale with her. So I worked my phone and arranged to meet him for lunch. Tiffany and Jan dropped me off.

My friend, Mike, is a retired FAA guy. He owned a piece of property across the street from one of the orchards I fly at every summer. In 2010, when he was just starting to build a house there, I rented space on his lot to park my big fifth wheel while I was on contract with the orchard. I would up spending the next three summers there — every summer until I bought my own land in the area.

He’d built the home as a place for he and his wife to retire to. But when he was done, she told him she didn’t want to move there. I really felt awful for him; I’d gone through a similar situation with my wasband when he broke similar promises he’d made to me. He wound up selling the home and if I hadn’t been financing a helicopter overhaul at the time, I probably would have bought it. It would have been an excellent AirBnB property and I already manage the house next door.

Mike was now in the process of getting divorced and had bought a home in Mesa. It was a nice place on a corner lot in a subdivision. He looked great when I saw him — healthier and happier than I think I’ve ever seen him. It’s funny how beneficial a major life change can be.

He showed me around his place, which still needed a lot of furniture. Then we left Penny behind and took his car out to lunch. We wound up at a place Tiffani had suggested that he knew well. I had an excellent eggplant parmesan sandwich, which is something I haven’t had since my New York days. We talked about what he was doing to keep busy and what he’d learned about dating. He pretty much confirmed what I already suspected; too many needy women wanted full-time relationships but the ones that most interested him were the ones who wanted to maintain their own separate home and space. I think the smart folks have it figured out — at our age, we just don’t want the changes and compromises that come with a live-in partner.

Afterwards, we fetched Penny and headed back to the airport where I was going to meet up with Jan and Tiffani. Mike dropped me off and I promised I’d come again, perhaps before the end of this trip.

Woody was at the airport when I got there. He’s the other partner in Jan and Tiffani’s helicopter flight school business. Like Jan, he’s a recently retired airline pilot. But he also flies helicopters. He was one of the cherry drying pilots I worked with last summer. It was good to see him and to finally meet his new dog.

When Jan and Tiffani showed up, we didn’t hang around long. Jan had to go down to the San Tan Valley to see a telescope he was interested in buying. He has a 12-inch telescope in a backyard observatory and was interested in upgrading to a 16-inch. So he, Tiffani, Penny, and I headed down to see it.

Here’s the telescope Jan is considering. It needs to be mounted on this angle (33°) so it can properly track objects in the night sky. Jan is concerned that it might not fit in his observatory.

The guy who greeted us was a spry older man — 85, we later found out — who had not one but six telescopes. Four field telescopes were in his garage and the other two larger ones were mounted in a shack in his backyard. The shack didn’t look like much and, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how he opened the flat roof to look out. But then when Jan asked him to open up to get more light in, he unfastened a few latches and then slid the entire roof back onto a frame just outside the building. It was a neat setup. Chatting with him, we learned that he was a helicopter pilot, had gone flying with a friend in one of Jan and Tiffani’s helicopters years ago, and used to live in Wenatchee! Small world.

I sure wish I could remember what this cocktail was. It was extremely tasty, even with the bacon.

Afterwards, we went back to Jan and Tiffani’s house to drop off Penny. Woody showed up with his two dogs. We climbed back into two cars and headed out to dinner. It was early, so dinner consisted of happy hour drinks and bar munchies. It was my last night in Gilbert and I enjoyed spending it out with friends.

Heading Out

I woke up early this morning, stripped the guest bed, and threw the linens in the washer with all my dirty clothes. Then I took my last luxury shower until the next time I was someone’s guest, making sure to wash my hair thoroughly. When the linens and my clothes had gone through the dryer, I remade the bed, arranged the nine (!) pillows on it, and started bringing things out to the camper. The inside of the camper was a complete mess that I’d deal with when I stopped for the night.

It was nearly 10 AM when I said goodbye to Jan and Tiffani. Realizing that a professional could do a better job at rewiring the trailer than I could, I’d made a 10:30 appointment at a local U-Haul dealer so their “hitch pro” could do it. With the clock ticking, I pulled away from their house while they prepared to go to work.

Appointment Stacking

If there’s one thing I’ve learned living 10 miles from the closest supermarket and other in-town conveniences, it’s what I call “appointment stacking.” That when you schedule all the things you need to do within a certain window on a certain day. If done just right, you can get appointments and errands crammed into the minimal amount of time, thus making the absolute best use of your time without a lot of additional trips.

That’s what I did on Tuesday. I stacked the U-Haul appointment, DOR errand, Napa and Walmart return errands, lunch, eye appointment, grocery shopping, and long drive from Gilbert to Peoria into one 8-hour period.

At the U-Haul place, the pro did what I asked: he cut the existing hitch wire extension and replaced it with the longer wire I provided. He was able to reuse the plug. While he worked, I fiddled around with the hitch. I realized that the adjustable drop hitch I’d bought at Walmart dropped the hitch too much. Fortunately, U-Haul had other options. I chose one and asked them to put the 2-5/8 inch ball I’d bought on it. When they were all done, the trailer sat pretty level with all four wheels on the ground and the wiring cable was plenty long. Total cost: $65. So worth it. Later, I’d return the extra parts I’d bought at Napa and Walmart.

The next stop was the Arizona Department of Revenue office where I needed to renew my business permit for Flying M Air to sell drone photos in Quartzsite. That went surprisingly fast and only cost $12.

Then I had time to kill before an eye appointment. I took care of the returns and headed north through the Phoenix area. My appointment was in the Deer Valley area in North Phoenix. So was P.F. Chang’s and I was hungry.

My eye appointment was at 5 PM. Sunset was just after 5:30 PM. I was at least 50 miles from where I wanted to spend the night and I knew I wouldn’t make it before it got a lot darker than I like to drive in. So while I ate I started thinking about alternative places to spend the night, using satellite view in Google Maps to get ideas.

One of the best parts of RVing with a self-contained rig is that you can camp for free in a lot of different places. I know this particular area well; I used to land my helicopter at Wild Horse West for burgers once in a while.

Eye exam and some grocery shopping done, I climbed into my truck at about 6 PM and headed out. I ended up about 15 miles away, parked for the night in a deserted off-road vehicle camping area that was technically in Peoria. I didn’t think anyone would bother me and I was right. I spent the next hour organizing my camper for the next part of my journey and settled down with Penny to read a book. I was asleep by 9 PM.

How I Spent My Autumn Vacation, Part 6: In Vermont

Posted on November 27, 2018 by Maria Langer

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Not the peak color I was hoping for, but still a great time.

(Continued from Part 5: On the Road to Vermont)

My friends Tom and Tammy are among my oldest friends and that’s who I stayed with in Vermont.

But first, as you might expect, some back story.

The BBS Days and Beyond

I met Tom back in my BBS days — yes, I ran a multi-line networked bulletin board system (think prehistoric Internet) out of my home starting in 1989 when I bought the computer that changed my life. (I thought I’d blogged about the computer changing my life and hoped to link to that post, but a quick search yielded no results. I’ll have to blog about it in the future.)

At the time, Tom was working in a family owned business selling tombstones in a greenhouse just a few miles away. He ran a multiline BBS out of his office there. I honestly don’t remember how we met, but when I left my full-time job to become a freelance writer and computer trainer/consultant, I’d often spend free time visiting with him and talking about computers. Back then, I had an Apple Macintosh IIcx and I think he had a IIci. (I’d later run my BBS on a Mac SE/30, which was perfect for the task.

Through Tom, I became part of a computer “super user” network that included him and other BBS SysOps: Mike, Ralph, and Zeke. Mike was especially well connected. He worked for a design firm that did a lot of cutting edge things with computers and, thus, had access to all the latest and greatest hardware and software. We’d occasionally drive down to his office to gawk at his new toys and play with the latest offerings from Adobe and other companies, many of which no longer exist. (Aldus comes to mind.)

I was self-taught on computers and had managed to get a per diem gig teaching computer applications: Mac OS, Microsoft Word, Microsoft Excel, and Lotus 1-2-3. I think being so well connected with other computer superusers helped make that possible.

Anyway, time went on. Tom married Tammy. My future wasband and I went to the wedding. They sat us at the same table as Mike, who was so white he could be albino and another guy I didn’t know who happened to be the blackest black guy I’ve ever seen. Of course, he and Mike sat side by side. I wish I had a picture. (Isn’t it funny the things you remember?)

Tom and Tammy moved to Vermont not long after that. Tom was into winter sports and I think he was as fed up as I was becoming with the traffic, congestion, and expense of living in the New York City Metro area. He telecommuted to a new job with a big company. He’d gone beyond mere “superuser” status and was a networking expert. He could work from home with a fast Internet connection and he did, making occasional trips down to New Jersey when he needed to.

I didn’t see him at all after his move, but we kept in touch via email and a little Twitter and later text messaging.

Meanwhile, they had kids. Three boys, all named with the initial T.

I moved to Arizona and invited them to visit. But I could understand why they didn’t. Airfare isn’t cheap when you have to buy five tickets. And then there’s that school thing. They like winter sports so they couldn’t come in the winter. And who wants to go to Arizona on summer vacation?

We continued to keep in touch throughout my crazy divorce. He was extremely supportive, providing me with a lot of useful computer information when I needed it.

It was around then that Tom kept suggesting that I come stay with them for a while in Vermont. The boys were away at college (already!) and he had plenty of room in his big, old farmhouse. It was definitely an inviting idea. I hadn’t been to Vermont in years and I remembered how amazing the fall colors had been on my last trip. I envisioned another trip with my camera. We have a nice autumn here, but no autumn compares to Vermont’s.

Still, I couldn’t get a trip together. There was always something else I had to do in the autumn. But this year, I decided to go for it. After playing around with a calendar and his schedule, we decided I’d come during the first week in October.

At the T’s

I rolled up to Tom and Tammy’s house in the Maserati in late afternoon on October 1. It was overcast and wet. Tom came right out to greet me and Penny. It was really good to see him — for the first time in at least 20 years.

After chatting a bit and unwinding from my drive, he gave me the tour of the three-story wood frame house that dates back to the 1800s. They’d put me in Penny in one of two dedicated guest rooms on the second floor with the shared bathroom right outside my door. How nice!

Tammy was busy with something that evening, so Tom and I went out to get some dinner. Along the way, he showed me a few local highlights, including Singleton’s General Store, which features “guns and liquor.” (I had to buy a tee shirt.) We ate dinner at Mr. Darcy’s Bar and Grill. It was good.

Afterwards, back at the house, we just relaxed in the living room with his two big chocolate labs stretched out on the sofa with us. I was pooped and went to bed early.

Not all rural areas have crappy Internet. The Ts access is three times faster than mine — and mine is nothing to be ashamed of.

The weather was kind of crappy the next day — overcast and rainy — and I had no problem amusing myself indoors while Tammy, a lawyer, and Tom worked in their offices. I’d brought a handful of stones and some jewelry-making supplies and tools. I sat at the kitchen table and made two pendants while Tom and Tammy occasionally stopped by to see what I was up to. I used Periscope to broadcast me creating a piece of jewelry and, although it didn’t have many viewers, I kept it running until the end. The Ts have excellent high speed internet, so I know I wasn’t straining anything.

I took a photo of the Lego candies to share it on Twitter for my friend Andy, who is a real Lego fan.

Sometime during the day, we went to The Vermont Country Store, which exists to showcase Vermont products and sell tourists stuff they really don’t need. Yeah, I know I sound critical/cynical, but when you’ve spent enough time in tourist destinations, you really get a feel for that kind of shop. There was a lot of merchandise, including more candy and old-fashioned toys — like the ones we played with when I was a kid! — than I’d every seen under one roof. There was also clothes and linens, and kitchen stuff. And maple syrup, of course. One of the nice things was being able to taste three different colors of maple syrup, side by side — there really is a noticeable difference! It was a neat place to browse.

Tammy made dinner and we had a relaxing evening sitting around with the dogs and chatting. I didn’t feel guilty for doing almost nothing all day because I knew the weather would be better later in the week. Besides, it was nice to just take it easy in a comfortable place. I’d been on the move almost non stop since arriving in the New York area the previous Saturday.

Exploring the Forest on ATVs

Penny wrapped in a blanket in a milk crate attached to the front of the ATV I rode. She wasn’t happy about it, but it was the only solution to bring her with us on the very bumpy roads.

Tom took Wednesday off. He pulled two ATVs out of his shed and fired them up. We mounted up, with Penny wrapped in blankets in a basket in front of mine, and headed out on back roads and trails into the adjacent national forest. The trails were very rough in parts, forcing me to slow down and remember my ATV training from about 20 years ago. I was able to follow Tom, but a few times he got way in front of me. It was a lot of fun to be challenged (for a change); my ATV riding in Washington is limited and local.

He showed me the foundations of an old farmhouse long gone and nearly forgotten in the forest and a lake his boys like to camp at, and an old irrigation setup with a dam. Everything was accessible only via narrow forest trails surrounded by relatively new growth trees showing their early autumn colors.

One trail ended at this old cement dam that holds back a small pond for feeding an irrigation pipe.

It wasn’t raining but the forest was pretty wet and the trail was muddy in spots. I kept a sharp lookout for mushrooms — I was hoping to find some chanterelles — and I actually found some that could be edible. But “could be” isn’t the same as “are definitely” so I left them behind, not wanting to potentially poison my hosts or myself.

After asking me if I was up for a ride on a really rugged road, Tom led me back the way we’d come and then up a different road and trail. It started out the same as the others and then got very rough, with lots of big rocks, tree roots, and fallen branches across the trail. I followed as closely as I could without slipping out of my comfort zone. Suddenly, the trail ended at the edge of someone’s grassy yard and I admit I was a little surprised when Tom continued across it, hugging the edge of the grass. Then more trail and finally a turn with a climb up a short hill.

There was a log cabin there and we walked up the steps to sit on the porch. Tom and his family had been there many times; he knew the three men who had built it by hand. We looked out over the hillside, into a bank of clouds, and Tom assured me that there was usually an excellent view down into the valley and mountains beyond.

We were still sitting there when a small SUV drove up from the other direction and an older couple got out. One of the builder/owners. It felt awkward for only a few minutes; they quickly realized who Tom was. We were soon chatting with them about the place and when they unlocked it, they invited me in for a tour. It was a really basic place with two big rooms and a sleeping loft. Completely off the grid, it didn’t have any electric appliances.

As we chatted, the clouds lifted a bit to give us glimpses of the valley beyond. But they never lifted enough to give us a good view of the valley.

The clouds lifted just enough to give us an idea of how amazing the view from the cabin’s porch might be on a clear day.

We headed back not long after that, taking it easy at the house. Tammy, who’d gone out for a meeting, returned with barbecue takeout from their favorite place. It was good.

Day Trip to Manchester

I was on my own the next day and that was fine. I decided to drive down to Manchester, with a stop for breakfast along the way. I also wanted to check out the Dorset Quarry, which I’d read a little about online.

So I headed out, dropping down off the mountain into Wallingford, where I picked up Route 140. A Google search before departing had me aiming for a little restaurant called Dorset Rising, but I soon reached a section of road work where the detours put me on progressively more rugged roads. Worried about the Maserati, I made my way back to the main roads and somehow wound up on Route 7. So I took that all the way down to Manchester and then came back up Route 30 to Dorset. I passed the quarry along the way, but my primary goal was breakfast so I kept going.

Although Dorset Rising had a nice outdoor dining area where I could have eaten with Penny, it was kind of nasty out — too cool to enjoy a meal outdoors. So I left her in the car and went inside alone. A while later, I was seated at a comfy table with a latte and a breakfast burrito in front of me. They had a nice selection of baked goods but I resisted the urge to take some with me. (We — well, mostly I — had been picking away at those Italian pastries since my arrival. They weren’t nearly as good after two days in a cooler as they had been fresh. Lesson learned.) Instead, I got an iced tea to go and got back on the road.

Dorset Quarry was right down the road and I pulled into the parking lot. The quarry has an impressive place in history: when it first opened in 1785, it was America’s first marble quarry. It supplied marble to there New York Public Library and other buildings in New York City and Washington DC.

I grabbed Penny’s leash and she and I left the car for a walk around what had become a popular local swimming hole. Of course, it was nearly deserted that day — certainly no swimmers — but I could imagine it being a fun spot on a hot day if it wasn’t too crowded.

Dorset Quarry is a popular swimming hole — but not in early October.

The south side of Dorset Quarry’s big pond. Can you see Penny running towards me?

We tried to walk around the north side of the quarry but the trail soon wandered off into the woods in a direction I didn’t want to go. So we backtracked to the road and walked over to the south side, past huge marble blocks left behind from operations long ago.

As I walked, I looked down at the ground along the path. I was looking for stones — small pieces of marble that I might be able to polish into cabochons. I wound up with about a dozen of them, all smaller than my two thumbs held side-to-side. I filled my jacket pocket.

We reached the place where a creek fed the pond. There was a bridge over the creek and a ladder coming out of the water. I don’t know how deep the water was; I couldn’t see the bottom.

I wandered around and took pictures. Then we wandered back to the car.

We continued on to Manchester, with a quick stop at the Kitchen Store at JK Adams. I was looking for a gift for my house sitter, who really likes to cook. Nothing struck me so I kept going.

A short while later, I was pulling back into Manchester Center and parking in the lot behind Northshire Bookstore, which Tom had recommended. That was, of course, my first stop and I, of course, left with books in hand. Penny and I walked up one side of Main Street and down the other. I wound up buying a maple syrup sampler for my house sitter. (I later kicked myself for not buying myself syrup; I erroneously thought I still had some at home.)

We walked back to the car and stowed my rather heavy purchases in the trunk, then headed down Depot Street, where there were a handful of outlet stores. I was looking for the “wood shop” Tom had told me about. Before I found it, I stopped in at Eddie Bauer, where they had a storewide sale, and bought myself a few shirts and a scarf. I also bought a scarf with pictures of a pug dog on it for my friend Janet, who travels with her aging pug, Lulu. Then Manchester Woodcraft, where they had a huge selection of reasonably priced items made of wood. Try as I might, however, I didn’t find anything I couldn’t go home without.

Then it was back to the car again, stopping only a moment to read the Thomas Jefferson quotes under a Jefferson monument. One of them really stuck with me and I took a photo to share it on Twitter:

Men by their nature are divided into two parties: those who fear and distrust the people, and those who identify themselves with the people, have confidence in them, cherish and consider them as the most honest and safe depository of the public interest.

You might be able to guess which party I’m in.

We continued south on route 7A, past the Orvis company headquarters and the American Museum of Fly Fishing. That got me thinking of Janet again — she’s really into fishing — but I didn’t stop.

Tom had suggested going to the top of Equinox Mountain to take in the views from up there, but when I arrived at the turn, I discovered that it was a toll road. Not willing to spend $20 for the privilege of driving up a mountain road to take in the view on a cloudy day, I skipped it.

I did stop, however, at the Arlington Dairy Bar where I took a photo and tweeted “Will brake for ice cream.” I had a shake and Penny had a small dish of vanilla ice cream. Then we were on our way again.

Will brake for ice cream.

We kept going, eventually reaching Bennington. By then, the weather had turned bad and I wasn’t interested in dealing with traffic to maybe find a place to get out and walk around. So I followed the signs for Route 9, which cut across the national forest on a scenic road that climbed up one side of the mountain and down the other. There wasn’t much to see in Wilmington, which was on the other side of the mountain, so I hopped on Route 100 and headed north. More pleasant driving, although the weather was either gray or drizzling rain the whole time.

By that time, it was late afternoon and I felt done exploring. I think the weather had a lot to do with it. But I did make one more stop: the Crowley Cheese Company, which was a few miles off the main road west of Okemo Mountain Resort. I tasted a bunch of cheeses and wound up buying two for my brother.

From there, it was back to the T’s.

Another guest joined us late that evening and, true to form, I’ve forgotten his name. He came up from New Jersey to do a photography job on Saturday. The four of us spent the evening watching a few episodes of a weird show on Netflix, sitting on the sofas with the dogs lying all over us. The newcomer wound up in the guest room next to mine.

Rutland, Okemo Mountain, and an Old Cemetery

The next day, I went with Tammy into Rutland, VT. She had a yoga class there and I had to visit the post office.

My big piece of luggage was already pretty heavy and I knew that if I added the books and rocks, it would likely weigh more than the 50 pounds allowed by the airline. The solution was to cram all that stuff into a flat rate box and send it home via Priority Mail. So after dropping Tammy off at yoga, I went in search of the post office and took care of that. I also sent Janet her scarf.

With a little time before I had to pick up Tammy, I found a car wash. I had a moment of fright when I saw brushes in the wash tunnel in front of me, but the guys working the controls flipped a few switching and nothing other than water touched the car. I could have made it look a lot better if I had a rag to dry it off afterwards, but I didn’t. Still, it was better than before I’d had it washed. I figured I’d wash it again in New Jersey before handing it off to my brother.

When I picked up Tammy, we weren’t in a rush to get back so we drove into town for some breakfast at one of the coffee shops there. I left Penny parked outside near the car. I had a great breakfast sandwich and managed to muster enough willpower to skip the pastry I wanted for dessert.

We drove back and Tammy got back to work. Tom was already working up in his office. The day had turned nice and I was ready for another day trip. This time, my destination was the Okemo Mountain Resort. Tom had told me that I could drive almost all the way up to the top of the mountain, hike a little more, and visit a fire tower at the summit. The weather looked good enough for a hike so I headed out around noon with Penny.

The drive up the mountain was mostly smooth with just one big pothole I almost didn’t avoid. At the top was a gravel parking lot with about ten other cars and space to back in the Maserati. I grabbed Penny’s leash and got out with her. Together, we walked through an open car gate and up a gravel road. Up is the appropriate word. The road climbed, sometimes steeply.

Tom had told me that the fire tower wasn’t visible from the road, but if I walked to the ski lift I’d be able to see it in the forest from there. But when I got closer, I found a small marked trail. I followed the sign onto a narrow trail into the woods.

The fire tower atop Okemo Mountain.

Penny ran ahead, as she does. Some hikers coming back thought she was a stray and tried unsuccessfully to catch her. Then they saw me and told me what they’d thought and done. We all laughed. It was that kind of mellow, pleasant day.

We reached the fire tower and, because the stairs looked so iffy, I picked Penny up and carried up with me. It was only five flights and each flight was narrower than the one before it. I came up through the trap door and found myself in a small area with a wooden floor and glassless windows all around. I put Penny down and took in the views in all directions. It really was a gorgeous day.

Here’s the view to the east, toward Ludlow. As you can see, it wasn’t quite peak color yet, although I think the cold rain that had been coming through Vermont may have spoiled the autumn leaf season.

I took photos in most directions, including down toward the ski lifts. Then, hearing some people coming through the woods toward the tower, I picked up Penny and headed back down.

In the forest, a couple was stopped on the trail. The husband pointed out a cool looking little snake escaping into the underbrush while his wife absolutely freaked out. I tried not to laugh as I passed them and headed back to the road.

We walked around for a while by the ski lifts. I took some more photos.

View from the top of one ski lift.

I went into the woods looking for mushrooms and found a bunch — but not the ones I hoped to find. I played with the portrait mode on my iPhone and found myself disappointed again at how limited it was for subjects other than people’s faces.

The obligatory mushroom photos. I took more than a dozen but I’ll only bore you with two.

After poking around in the woods for a while, we went back the car and headed down the mountain. I stopped along the way at a view point where a couple were having some wine and cheese at a picnic table. We chatted for a while (of course) and I discovered that they were from New Jersey. They tried to talk me into have lunch at the restaurant near the bottom of the road, but when I drove past a few minutes later, I knew it wasn’t for me. Instead, I drove into Ludlow, parked, and had lunch with a hard cider outside Mojo Cafe, which I highly recommend.

After a quick walk in town, we got back into the car and headed back to the T’s.

I did make one other short trip before day’s end: to that old cemetery down the road. It was full of wonderful old tombstones, many of them very ornate. The oldest one I saw dated back to 1809, making the cemetery over 200 years old. I walked among the stones, taking photos and thinking about the people who had lived and died — sometimes quite young — in the area. There was one row of stones with the same last name repeated over and over. You could follow the history of the family as you walked in one direction or the other.

Two of the dozens of interesting old tombstones in this 200+ year old cemetery.

Later that evening, we were back in Ludlow for dinner. The plan had been to have dinner at Homestyle Hostel, but the place was mobbed and we couldn’t get a table. After a few craft cocktails across the street at Main and Mountain Bar, we wound up at another restaurant a bit farther down the road. I honestly can’t remember what it was called — maybe I had too many cocktails? We had a good dinner and I picked up the tab, mostly because I really appreciated having such a great week with my friends in Vermont.

Last Day

The whole time I was in Vermont, I was pretty vague about when I would leave. Originally, I was going to leave on Thursday; I had some friends in New York State I was hoping to visit for a day or two on my way back to New Jersey. But I was enjoying myself so much that when Tom and Tammy told me to stay through the weekend and my brother reported that he had to work on Saturday and go to a match on Sunday, I agreed to stay until Saturday. I figured I’d spend Saturday evening and Sunday with my friends in New York.

Saturday was the day of the farmer’s market in Rutland. Tom, Tammy, and I headed out together in the morning to see what they had that we wanted. It was a nice farmers market, even that late in the season, with plenty of produce and baked goods and other items. I wound up buying a package of frozen spaetzle, a German pasta that my grandfather and dad used to make when I was a kid. (And no, it wasn’t nearly as good as theirs was.) We wound up walking into town and having breakfast at the same place Tammy and I had eaten the day before. I had the same breakfast sandwich since it had been so good.

We headed back to the T’s after that. I’d already repacked my bags, setting aside enough clothes in a smaller bag for my overnight stay in New York. I packed everything into the car’s trunk, loaded Penny on board, and said goodbye to my hosts.

It had been a great six-day stay in Vermont, despite the less than perfect weather and the disappointing foliage. There’s nothing like reconnecting with old friends in person. I just hope I have the opportunity one day to return the favor and host them on a trip out west.

It was a little after noon when I finally left. I had a long drive ahead of me, but it felt good to be heading toward my next destination.

(Continued)

More Maria 1.0 Photos

Posted on October 13, 2017 by Maria Langer

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A few more very old photos.

Yesterday, I blogged a few things about Girl Scouts, which I was part of when I was a kid. I still have my Girl Scout sash with all of its badges somewhere. I went looking for it yesterday morning, hoping to get a photo of it for the blog post. I couldn’t find it. But I did find a bunch of very old photographs from my teens and college days. I thought I’d share them here.

At Disneyworld

The date on the back of this photo says 1980, but I’m pretty sure it was older than that. That could account for the discoloration. I commonly put off developing film for a very long time. I’m thinking this was from around 1977 or so. My mom had remarried (or was about to?) and we went on a family vacation to Disneyworld in Florida. It was remarkable for two reasons:

We stayed at the hotel inside the park. The one the monorail goes through. It was the first time I’d ever stayed in a real hotel.
My stepdad bought us passes that gave us unlimited access to all the rides. Back in those days, you had to buy tickets for each ride you wanted to go on. (Ever hear of an E-ticket Ride?) We had access to everything. It was a huge deal.

We had the royal treatment throughout our visit, including dinner at Cinderella’s Castle. That’s where this photo was taken. It shows my sister, brother, and me. When I texted this photo to my brother, he not only confirmed it was when we had dinner in the Castle, but he remembered that he had prime rib. When I asked him how he could possibly remember that, he replied:

Because the meal came with a red candied slice of apple as a garnish. At the time it freaked me out since I never saw something like that before so I have not forgotten it.

Whoa.

(L-R) Laura, Norbert, and Maria Langer at Cinderella’s Castle, Disneyworld, circa 1977.

Prom Photo

Maria Langer and Paul Soehren, prom photo, 1978.

I went to two proms in the same year in high school. One was my senior prom, which was in the winter so photos could make it into the yearbook. The other was my junior prom, which was in the spring. And yes, I was a junior and a senior in the same year — which explains how I managed to graduate high school at age 16.

This is from one of those proms, back in 1978. I was dating the guy across the street, Paul. We were together for quite a while. Unfortunately, he was slightly younger than me and I graduated early so he was two years behind me in school. When I went away to college — well, let’s just say that my outlook on life and relationships changed. But he was a good guy and I suspect he made someone a very good husband. I seem to recall that he became a firefighter. I’ve lost touch with him but that’s okay.

We made a nice looking couple, no?

Siblings

Here’s a shot of my brother and me sitting on my aunt and uncle’s back deck. The other photos in this group show a lot of different family members, including my grandmother, in a wheel chair. I assume it was somebody’s birthday or something, but can’t figure out who. It was obviously in the summer and I don’t know anyone other than me with a summer birthday.

I figure this was around 1980, just based on my hairstyle and the fact that I’m not wearing glasses. I started wearing contacts when I went to college. I remember that top. My brother was about 10 or 11 here.

I didn’t crop this, although I certainly could have. I wanted to save it the way it was shot. It was likely taken by my mother, who couldn’t properly frame a photo if her life depended on it. I have a lot of photos that are framed like this.

Maria and Norbert Langer, New Jersey, circa 1980.

Laura

Laura Langer, circa 1980.

Taken at the same event as the one above, here’s my sister. She’s changed quite a bit since Disneyworld, no?

What amazes me about these last two pictures is how much eye makeup we’re both wearing. Sheesh.

And I can bet you anything that my mother did not take this photo.

College Days

A candid shot of me taking a candid photo of someone else on campus. September 18, 1981. Ah, to be that young (and thin) again!

In college, I was a member of the yearbook staff as a photographer and it was a blast. I loved doing candid shots. I’d put a long lens on my Olympus OM-10 camera (hey, you have to start somewhere) and shoot images of people lounging on the grass in the Quad or snacking in a cafeteria or studying in the library.

My friend Jeff Noreman, who was the yearbook editor one year (or more?) took this photo of me while I was likely taking a candid photo of someone else. The only reason I know it was Jeff is that his initials and the actual date of the photo are on back. So I can tell you that this was shot on September 18, 1981. I was a senior at Hofstra University and just 20 years old.

The Nexus staff, circa 1981.

I also found a group photo of the yearbook staff. I suspect Jeff took the photo since he isn’t in the shot, but if he did he must not have been trying very hard — it looks as if my mother framed it for him. The other photo i have of this group is the same pose but horizontal and also cut off. Maybe the camera was on a tripod with a self-timer?

I’m thinking this was shot on a trip to Great Adventure, an amusement park in New Jersey. I have other shots from the same place.

I can name some, but not all, of the people in this shot. Can you see me? I’m in the back on the far right, standing next to a tree. I look very butch in this shot! It probably dates around 1981.

College Graduation

I found two good shots from graduation.

First, you need to understand that I was the first person in my family to go to (and graduate from) college. It was a huge deal. So when I graduated, my entire family came to see the ceremony. That’s what the group photo is all about.

(L-R) Barbara Langer (my stepmother), Kristine Langer (my half sister), Laura Langer (my sister), Norbert Langer Sr (my father), me, Norbert Langer Jr. (my brother), Madelyn Odendahl (my mother), and Thomas Odendahl (my stepfather).

Here’s my college graduation photo. May 1982. I was 20 years old.

Of course, being friends with a lot of photographers, it was easy to get a good photo of me in my cap and gown. This one was taken by my friend Stuart Litel, another yearbook photographer. The only reason I know that is because his sticker is on the back of the photo.

Double Exposure

I’ve shared this next one before but thought I’d share it again because it’s so cool. It’s a double exposure self portrait that I created entirely in my camera on film. In other words, if I could find the negative, it would look just like this.

This is a relatively big deal. This is before the days of Photoshop when whipping up something like this would take a few minutes in front of a computer. The trick, as I recall, was getting my camera to let me take a second shot on top of the first one. I had to mask each side of the image for each shot. If you look closely, you can see a slight blurring on the buildings in the middle; I probably moved the camera a tiny bit when I prepared for the second shot.

The dress is actually a wrap-around long skirt that wore with a belt as a sleeveless dress. I made it myself. I still own it.

Double the pleasure, double the fun?

If I find any more good Maria 1.0 photos, I’ll be sure to share them here. It’s a nice being able to look back into my distant past and remember the good old days. You can see a few more old photos here.

An Eclectic Mind

Web site and blog for Maria Langer, writer, video producer, jewelry artist, boat captain, and helicopter pilot. Blogging since 2003.

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