Tag Archives: Quartzsite

Snowbirding 2021: Life at the Backwaters Camp

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We settle into a routine that includes activity, work, and rest.

I set up my own camp at our campsite with my camper on one side of the boat ramp and my utility trailer on the other. I was expecting my friend Janet to join me and I thought it was a good idea to leave room for her in the “living” side of the campsite by putting my utility trailer on the “working” side of the campsite.

About the Campsite

One of the nice things about the campsite — other than the fact it has easy access to a mile-long strip of backwaters channel — is that it’s mostly level. That makes it easy to park RVs without having to deal with a lot of leveling blocks. My truck camper, of course, has its four motorized legs that can be used to fine-tune leveling. But I need a relatively level place to begin with so I can safely raise the camper off my truck and drive the truck away.

The campsite is off the main road and surrounded by a lot of desert vegetation — mostly salt cedar, mesquite, and a type of shrub I’d always known as arrow wood (but Google doesn’t agree). This vegetation, although not very attractive, does give the campsite some privacy and filter away the dust that can come off the road when the four-wheelers are out in force. None of the trees are tall enough to cause an issue for a well-placed solar panel — especially if it’s on a camper’s roof (as mine are). I suspect that the site would be miserably hot in the summer months, but in the winter, all that sun is usually quite welcome.

The site is actually split into two logical halves with the boat ramp between them. One side is larger and could easily fit four good-sized campers without any of them parking in the deeper sand beyond. The other side is considerably smaller but features a few clearings in the vegetation where tents could be set up with a degree of privacy.

The ground (other than the gravel boat ramp) is mostly a sandy dusty dirt mixed with decades of campfire ash. It is not the kind of place you leave things on the ground if you expect them to stay clean. But dust is a part of life when camping out in the desert and I knew exactly what to expect when I chose the site.

I parked at the edge of the larger camping area, right beside where the land sloped down sharply to the boat ramp. I backed in (of course) so my back and main side window faced east, out over the backwaters. From my dining table window, I can watch the sun rise every morning and see glimpses of water birds like egrets and herons. I like a campsite with a view and this suits me just fine.

Setting up camp wasn’t difficult and I had it mostly done by the end of the day when I arrived. Other than removing my camper from my truck, I did a few extra things that I usually do if I’m going to be in a spot for more than a few days:

  • I set up a pair of portable sawhorses, each good for 1600 pounds of weight, under the body of my camper. This takes some of the weight off the legs and gives it a more solid feeling. It’s a little step that isn’t required, but will help keep the camper in good condition as it continues to age. (It’s a 2007 model and in great shape; I plan to keep it that way.)
  • I attached a vinyl “skirt” around the front end of the camper. This creates a little sheltered storage room where I can secure things I want to protect from the weather or keep out of sight. My bicycle, for example, is under there. So is my 2KW Honda generator, which is locked to one of the camper legs. I had the skirt custom made a few years ago and although I don’t use it often, it comes in very handy when I do use it.
  • I set up a table with my BBQ grill. I use a little propane fueled portable grill. I like to grill meats (and sometimes vegetables) and having the grill set up and ready to go right by my door makes it convenient.
  • I deployed my rear awning. My camper actually has two awnings, but I rarely use the one on the side. Instead, I put out the back one, mostly because it was so darn hot when I arrived in mid November. The sun would come up and shine into the back of my camper, making it unpleasantly hot within minutes. The awning kept it cooler. Even when temperatures dropped, however, I left the awning out with its various wind toys attached. With a mat nailed down to the ground beneath it, it gave me the illusion of an outdoor room, tripling the size of my living space. I staked it down securely so that even though it flopped around a bit when it got windy, it stayed secure.

  • Meade 8
    Here’s my telescope, set up in camp. I have a cover to protect it during the day and have been able to keep it dust-free. I haven’t used it nearly as much as I wanted to, mostly because I was having trouble getting it to align before I swapped out the batteries.

    I set up my 8″ Meade LX200GPS telescope. I bought the telescope last year and used it at a few campsites late in the season. The area where I was camped had amazing dark skies and with a big conjunction between Jupiter and Saturn coming up in December, I was eager to use it. The telescope, which lives in a Pelican-style hard-sided rolling case, is no fun to haul around, but once it was set up, I could cover it with a reflective cover to protect it from dust, sun, and wind.

  • I unpacked and inflated my Hobie kayak. I’d bought this two — or is it three? — years before in Lake Havasu City on my way south as a Christmas present to myself. Although it can be paddled like any sit-atop kayak, it has a pedal drive that makes it a real pleasure to pilot around the backwater channels — as long as the water is at least a foot deep.

    Paddling
    Here I am with my pups on a recent pedal/paddle/float down the Colorado River.

Camper Setup
Here’s my truck camper, set up for a long stay at camp. I put up my wind toys, deployed my rear awning, and even put on the custom skirt to create a sheltered “garage” under the front end of the camper. While the camper’s legs hold the bulk of its 3200 pounds, I also set up portable sawhorses underneath to take some of the weight off the legs and make the rig more solid on the ground.

My friend Janet arrived four days later. She came with her truck, “Blue,” pulling her 20-foot travel trailer, “Joey.” (For the record, although my truck doesn’t have a name, my camper and utility trailer do: T2 and Daisy (formerly Lily; long story) respectively.) She backed Joey into a spot against a tree with its door facing my camper and the fire pit. Later, her significant other, Steve, arrived with her studio/workshop trailer, “the Vega,” and parked it nearby so she could share her generator between the two of them.

The Routine

Our lives at camp quickly settled into a routine.

We start the day in our own campers with coffee (me) or tea (Janet) and maybe a small breakfast. I wake up at all times, from as early as 4 AM to as late as 7 AM. I let my pups out (supervised) for their early morning numbers (1 and 2) and give them breakfast. I drink my coffee, catch up on Twitter, update my Etsy site, or wade through incoming email. I use my iPad, which seems to get the best connection here when it’s placed on my pillow on my bed, as a wifi hotspot.

Maria and Dogs
One of my Twitter friends wanted a picture of the dogs at camp. The only way I could get a shot of them all was to grab mine while Janet’s stood nearby. This is one morning after our walk.

When the sun comes up, we’d go for a brisk walk in the desert. When we got here, we’d go as early as 7:30, but as it gets colder and colder and the sun rises later and later, we now go as late as 9 AM. We have four different walks. Three of them are about 2 1/2 miles long while the fourth is about 3 1/2 miles long. I admit that I shy away from that long walk early in the morning because a good portion of it is in the shade of a hillside and it’s really cold. And the walk that’s a loop around our backwater channel is especially tiresome because a good portion of it is in sand.

After the walk, we do our own thing most days. I usually do my dishes and/or shower. I like to run my water pump in the morning so the onboard batteries have the whole day to recover power from the 200 watts of solar on the roof. I really don’t like running my generator; I hate the noise. Although I’ll run my pump at any time of the day or night, dishes and showers run it long enough to take a toll on the batteries and mine are starting to show their age. (I actually had them replaced yesterday after writing the first draft of this post.)

I might also have a real breakfast of something cooked. I usually make the same thing I make at home: veggies cooked with some sort of breakfast meat and topped with an egg. I’m still trying to use up the potatoes and onions from my garden that I brought with me.

Then I go to work in my utility trailer. (More on that in a moment.) I generally work most of the day, with breaks whenever Rosie, the more vocal of my two pups, decides there’s something she needs to bark at. I leave the girls loose during the day, but with predators like coyotes around (mostly early and late in the day, as well as overnight), I try hard to keep tabs on them. Rosie likes to bark at imagined threats so I get lots of stand time during the day. (Apple Watch owners should know what I’m talking about.)

By around 4 PM, Janet and I are both finishing up for the day. One of us will set up paper trash and kindling in the fire pit. One or both of us will cook all or part of a shared dinner. We’ll light the fire and feed it wood we’ve gathered or brought along. My pups will go into the camper — they don’t seem to like being outside after dusk and that’s fine with me.

We’ll eat dinner by the fire. We’ll chat.

Thanksgiving Dinner
We eat well here. This was Thanksgiving dinner on my plate. Janet made almost everything you see; I made the stuffing, which I really love to make (and eat). We’ve had grilled NY strip steak, salmon (that I caught over the summer), and bacon-wrapped scallops, as well as chicken enchiladas, chicken and vegetable masala, tacos, and all kinds of homemade food. Janet even made a loaf of challah bread from scratch yesterday, which was a bit of a challenge to bake in her tiny oven.

Jupiter with Moons
I took this photo of Jupiter and its four largest moons by holding my iPhone’s lens against the eyepiece of my telescope one night.

We’ll watch the stars come out, marvel on how close Saturn is getting to Jupiter, and count satellites that pass overhead. A few times, I fired up the telescope for a closer look at Jupiter, Saturn, the moon, mars, and a few other points of interest in the sky. The Milky Way’s glow was nearly always bright above us.

Then, when the fire turns to a bed of coals, we’ll call it a night. Janet will retreat into her camper with her big dog Dually. I’ll bring my pups out for a pee and then go back inside for the night.

Depending on what time it is, I’ll do some work on my laptop or read or just straighten up my rig. Eventually, I’ll climb up into bed to read, watch videos on my iPad, or do a crossword puzzle. Then I’ll sleep.

The next day is pretty much the same.

Occasionally, we’ll break routine for a morning of chores or goofing off or weather that makes us want to stay indoors. But those days are few and far between.

Chores

Of course, we eventually have to do chores like laundry, grocery shopping, fetching water or propane, or visiting the post office. Because the road to get to camp is so long and bumpy, I try not to leave camp more than once or twice a week.

We do grocery shopping once a week in Blythe, CA where there’s a Smart and Final and an Albertsons. Although last year we favored Smart and Final, which tends to be cheaper, it soon became apparent that they often lacked the things we needed, requiring us to hit Albertsons as well. So this year we’re mostly just going to Albertsons.

We do laundry every other week, also in Blythe, and coordinate it with a trip to the Ace hardware store and Albertsons. It works like this: go to the laundromat and put our laundry into washers. That gives us 24 minutes to drive to Ace, shop, and get back. Move all the laundry into dryers and feed the dryers enough coins to dry to 40 to 50 minutes. Then go to Albertsons and shop. Go back to the laundromat, arriving just in time for the dryers to be done. Fold laundry, put it into the truck and head back to camp. We did this two days ago again and it worked like a charm.

Sometimes, on those trips to Blythe, we’ll bring an empty propane tank or two. My rig takes 5 gallon tanks and has two of them. I’m going through about one tank a week to run my refrigerator, heat water, fuel my stove, and run my heater, which I definitely need for at least part of the night.

We get water at the “Resort Store” in Ehrenberg, which is near the end of the gravel road between pavement and camp. For $2 we can fill as many water jugs as we have. I have four; Janet has at least four. We both have battery powered transfer pumps to lift the water from the 6 1/2-gallon jugs to our campers’ water tank fill ports. 26 gallons of water can last me about a week if I try hard to conserve. I don’t drink that water; it’s solely for washing. I buy bottled spring water by the gallon when shop for groceries and use that for drinking and cooking.

The Resort Store is also where we take our trash. There’s a big dumpster there. We weed out the aluminum cans and plastic bottles that can get cash refunds in California, which is only a mile away, and leave them in a box or bag beside the dumpster so folks who scavenge for cans don’t need to dumpster dive for ours. There is no recycle bin, but we burn most of our paper and cardboard waste when we start our evening campfire.

The Resort Store isn’t far from the post office where I rent a box every year. This enables me to get USPS, UPS, and FedEx packages. Whenever we get water, we visit the post office, too.

Occasionally, we’ll go into Quartzsite, AZ, which is about 30 miles east. I’ve written extensively about Quartzsite in this blog so I won’t go into detail here. It’s pretty dead in November and early December; it should start getting busy around Christmas time. If we go to Q (as we call it), we’ll get propane there; it’s a lot cheaper than in California. I also got a new battery and inverter setup for my utility trailer in Q; I’ll blog about that elsewhere.

Quartzsite is also where we dump our blackwater tanks, which is a chore I did just yesterday. Through various means of conservation, I can go a whole month between blackwater dumps — and no, it doesn’t smell.

Struck Truck
That back wheel was so dug in that the truck was sitting on the sand on its rear transfer case. I could turn the wheel by hand! Jacking up the truck and putting leveling blocks under that wheel was instrumental in getting it out.

We also occasionally go out into the desert to collect firewood. There are a lot of dead salt cedar and mesquite trees and Janet has a little battery-powered chainsaw that can cut through medium sized branches to make little logs. One day we used my truck to haul the wood out and I managed to get it stuck deep in the sand. After being told by a tow company that they needed a Jeep with a winch to get me out — at a cost of $500 — Steve and I managed to get it out with some jacking, digging, and a tug with a tow strap. Locking the hubs on the truck’s 4WD in 4-Low helped, too. (Duh.) Less than a week later, I used my truck to pull a Sprinter van out of another sandy spot nearby.

Getting Work Done

Janet is an artist who paints on feathers. (Her work is amazing; check out her Etsy shop and her website.) I’m a part-time jewelry artist. (My work is pretty good, too. Check it out in my Etsy shop and on my website.) Both of us planned to get work done while at camp. That’s why I’d set up my utility trailer with a jewelry shop and she brought along her studio trailer.

Our studios contain at least 90% of the materials and equipment we need to create. It’s just a matter of “unstowing” everything and setting up to work. Her studio is a converted travel trailer and has quite a bit of space. My utility trailer is small and relatively cramped, so part of my setup include erecting my show tent and setting up a table inside it do do soldering work. (I have a 6-minute video tour of my setup, but with the dismal connectivity I have out here in the desert, it would likely take all day to upload it.)

Janet and I mostly sell our work at art shows, although I also have relationships with a few galleries and we also both sell on Etsy. Unfortunately, COVID-19 has pretty much shut down the show circuit. The last show we did together was at White Tanks Regional Park in the Phoenix area at the end of last February; we were all set to do the Borrego Springs show in mid-March when they canceled it the day before setup. (We had already made the long drive there and weren’t happy about the last minute cancellation. I was especially unhappy because I was ready to go home at the end of February and that last show was the only thing keeping me in the area.) I did a few shows in Leavenworth, WA in July, September, and October. Janet did one in Fountain Hills, AZ in November, just before joining me in camp. Because her summer had been filled with other work (and play), she was low on some inventory. And because I’d shipped out a bunch of jewelry pieces to galleries in November, I was very low on inventory. We both needed to work.

And we do. I’d say we spend at least four hours a day at least five days a week in our shops getting new items made and ready to sell. I’ve started posting each week’s production on my jewelry website, with links back to my Etsy shop.

We also process incoming orders from Etsy. We each have printers to print labels and packing materials to package up and ship our products. I actually fill orders more quickly from here than I do from home. Go figure.

Playing

We also make time to play.

Because we have easy access to the backwater channel, we often go for a pedal/paddle (me) or row (Janet) in our boats. Janet, who likes to fish, will sometimes throw in a line. The other day, we took our boats and cameras up to the channel we camped on last year and pedaled/paddled/rowed there. I got some nice shots of egrets, herons, ospreys, and vultures. We even watched an osprey dive down into the water and take off with a fish.

Egret
I had my Nikon and 300mm lens with me on my most recent pedal/paddle and got a few nice shots of birds, like this egret.

One day when neither of us felt like working, we took a drive down the gravel road that goes past our camp all the way down to the Cibola Wildlife Refuge, which I’d visited a few years before. It’s where sandhill cranes spend the winter and there were certainly enough of them there. We also explored other possible camping areas, like a BLM campground on the California side that might be nice for a day or two.

We also goof off in Q. We took the bicycles in one day and rode around the town after picking up a few odds and ends from vendors that were set up early. Around Christmas time, Janet will be moving to Q for about a month to do a show there; I’m skipping it this year but may move out to the desert nearby for a few days during the height of the season there.

Side Trips

I did make time to visit some friends and go flying in the Mesa area near Phoenix earlier this month.

My friends own a flight school and offered me a reasonable deal on renting their R44. I was eager to get some video footage for the FlyingMAir YouTube channel. I did two flights over two days and spent two nights in my friends’ very comfortable guest room.

I’ll go back again later in the season, when I’m done camping in this area and begin a more nomadic phase of my winter travels. It’s a long drive from here to Mesa — nearly 3 hours. I did (finally) visit a Trader Joe’s on my way back. I also picked up a few things I needed to better secure items in my utility trailer when I’m in transit.

A Month Already!

That basically sums up the first month of my snowbirding activities for the 2020/2021 season.

Although Janet will likely leave in about a week, I’ll remain here for a while longer. I’ll probably walk less and work more, with fewer campfires and more writing. Maybe I’ll even get around to editing some of the video I captured on my two flights earlier this month.

I’m hoping that someone we met earlier this month will return from his holiday travels and share the camp with me for a few days. We need to talk boats. ‘Nuff said.

I’ll try to upload “Postcards” as I did last year. No promises. I’m keeping pretty busy — maybe too busy to blog? — and like it!

Snowbirding 2020 Postcards: Jet on a Truck Trailer

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Well, okay.

Quartzsite used to have an airport that was on aeronautical charts. Trouble is, it had a bit of a dogleg in the runway and a road crossed it. The story I heard is that a landing (or departing?) airplane hit a car that was crossing the runway as the plane was landing (or taking off). No one was hurt but the plane was damaged and the airport closed down.

Nowadays, there’s a dirt runway across the freeway and slightly west of that old airport site. It’s not on any chart, but it does have a few hangars and at least one windsock. And some planes that aren’t going anywhere soon, including this one.

Plane on Trailer
Not something you see every day. (It’s a Lear jet.)

I have some video I’ll likely compile into something for YouTube when I get home. I’ll try to remember to link to it here.

Pendant for a Biker Dude — and Other Quartzsite Vendor Stories

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The easiest path is often not the best.

“Do you have any black obsidian?”

The question came from a guy in his late 30s or early 40s dressed like a biker. You know the look: thin, black clothes, unkept hair, beard. Yeah, I know that could also describe a hipster, but if you saw him standing next to a hipster dressed the same way, you’d definitely know which guy I was talking about. This guy had an entourage that included two more biker guys and two biker chicks.

My Quartzsite Booth
My corner booth at Tyson Wells this year. I managed to cram everything in. I used the enclosed space at the front end of my truck camper as a classroom for jewelry making classes; it was easily accessible from my main tent through a doorway and comfy with a table and chairs inside.

The question was ironic, in a way. I had a shit-ton of obsidian slabs, all from a collection of rough I’d had obtained, in trade, from one of my cherry drying clients. Obsidian is volcanic glass and my client had a lot of it in old, broken cherry bins on a cherry orchard he owned. The previous owners had dug it out of the ground when they planted the trees. The rocks — along with a bunch of petrified wood uncovered the same way — had been tossed into the bins. My client acquired it when he acquired the orchard. He knew I worked with rocks and, for a while, I tried to sell the petrified wood for him. But we eventually traded cherry drying standby coverage for that small orchard for the entire collection of rocks. I managed to pick up about 10% of what’s there and still need to retrieve the rest.

So yes, I had obsidian. But turns out that I only had one obsidian cabochon with me: a piece I’d polished for my “before and after” demo box — the box I pull out when people think my extensive cabochon collection are just “tumbled rocks.” (Hint: they’re not.)

I didn’t really want to sell the rock but I also didn’t think he wanted to buy it. So I pulled it out. He asked me what it would cost to make a pendant from it and I did some quick math in my head and said $59. He thanked me and walked away with his group.

I put the rock away.

Hours later, he returned. I’d just made a few nice unexpected sales on what had begun as a very disappointing day. It was about 3:30, which was the time I normally closed up for the day. He asked again about the stone and the pendant. I brought over the box with the stone and pulled it out.

“How much for a pendant?” he asked again.

“Fifty nine dollars,” I replied. “It comes with a sterling silver chain.”

“What if I don’t want the chain?”

Understand that although the chains are solid sterling silver and made in Italy and they’re all brand new, each in their own individual sealed bag, I buy them 100 at a time and get a very good price. So good that saving a chain doesn’t save me enough money to lower the price by more than a few dollars. So I said, “Still fifty-nine.”

He hesitated and then said, “Would you take fifty?”

I blinked, looked him in the eye, and said, “No.”

He stared at me.

I felt a bit of anger coming up inside me, but stayed remarkably calm. I said, “Listen, I’ve been dealing with this for ten days. My price is firm.”

He nodded, looking disappointed, and started to walk away again. I put the rock back in the box.

One of the women in his crew, who had been looking at my pendant display with the other woman, suddenly seemed to realize that something was amiss. “What’s up?” she asked. “How much is it?”

“Fifty nine,” he said, stopping and coming back to the table.

“That’s all?” she asked. “That’s a great price.”

“It’s more than I wanted to spend,” he said.

“So what?” she replied. “That’s what it costs. If you want it, get it.”

Her straightforward comment worked. What followed was a discussion of how I’d make it. Which style of the displayed pendants did he like? Not like? They finally picked one with a distinctive style — one that required a bit more effort on my part (although they didn’t know that) — and I took his name and cell phone number and told them it would be ready in about an hour. I’d text him a photo when it was done.

(No, I don’t have folks pay in advance. If he didn’t show, I’d put it in inventory and someone else would buy it. I only make them pay in advance if they want a very costly stone or something weird that other folks might not like.)

I sat down to make the pendant.

The Venue

This happened on my second to last day at Tyson Wells in Quartzsite, Arizona. Quartzsite is a weird little desert town 25 miles east of the Colorado River with a year-round population of 3,677 (per 2010 census). I-10 runs right through it, so truck stops — there are four of them — are probably the biggest year-round business. Per Wikipedia:

Quartzsite is a popular recreational vehicle camping area for winter visitors with tourism being the major contributor to Quartzsite’s economy. Nine major gem and mineral shows, and 15 general swap meet shows are very popular tourist attractions, attracting about 1.5 million people annually, mostly during January and February.

Honestly, I think that part of the Wikipedia entry needs an update. While there are still gem and mineral shows and swap meets, that count might be from a few years back. And that visitor count has to be way off. I will agree that there are lots of folks camped mostly out in the desert in January and the population surges to at least 100,000 during the month. (Please don’t get me started on how the sudden influx of 100,000 Facebook users affects cellular internet access here from 7 AM to about 11 PM daily.) Visitors are mostly retirees who stay for a few days or weeks in motorhomes or other comfortable camping rigs, taking advantage of free and low-cost camping on Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land that surrounds the town. There are also campgrounds for folks with bigger budgets who don’t mind the parking lot lifestyle to have a full hookup.

Quartzsite from the Air, 2020
An aerial view of the two big January shows in Quartzsite, AZ, shot from the northeast. Tyson Wells is in the foreground and the RV show with its big tent is beyond it. Those white specks in the desert beyond are some of the thousands of RVs camped out on BLM land.

Quartzsite from the Air
Here’s another shot of the area, this time from the southeast.

All these folks spend their days roaming the shows, the biggest and best of which is Tyson Wells Sell-A-Rama, a 10-day event that begins in the middle of January. Another draw at the same time is the RV show with its huge tent and hundreds of vendors. The two shows are across the street from each other and take place at the same time. Last year I was at the RV show selling jewelry and aerial photos of campsites; this year I’m back at Tyson Wells selling jewelry.

Or trying to.

You see, the people at Quartzsite — especially this year, it seems — are more interested in buying cheap crap than spending a few bucks more to get something artisan made. It’s the Walmart mentality. Why should they pay me $39 for a pair of fine silver earrings that I designed, textured, cut, filed, sanded, shaped, patinated, and then polished by hand when they can get a pair that look kind of like them made in China out of some sort of silvery metal in that buy/sell booth two rows over for $9.99?

Now I don’t want you to think that everyone here is like that. They’re not. But it’s definitely the majority. How many times have I seen a woman ooh and aah over a pair of earrings, lift them out of the display like she’s ready to buy, ask the price (because she apparently can’t read the sign on the display 12 inches away), and put them right back where they were when I tell her? Too many to count.

And these are my “special show prices,” which are $10 less than what I actually sell for on Etsy and at art show venues.

The Stories

And then there are the stories. I’ve been sharing them on Twitter, but I’ll reproduce a few here for the folks who don’t follow me there:

Ice Cream Cone
View of the ice cream cone from my booth. My neighbor across the walkway was a bit of a slob.

Woman at my booth facing the booth with the giant inflated ice cream cone on top: “Do you know where they sell ice cream around here?”

Me, pointing: “Maybe under that big ice cream cone?”

Her, all serious: “You think so?”

Me: “Yep.”

(I actually had to lean out of my booth to make sure the ice cream cone was still there before answering her because I couldn’t imagine how she might have missed it. In my location at the corner of an aisle and the center walkway, I became an information booth. The last few days, I just told people I didn’t know where what they were looking for was.)

Old guy walking by with several other old guys and women, talking about how some automated function on his motorhome works: “We’re getting into the 21st Century soon. I have to learn to trust computers more.”

None of his companions mentioned that we’re already 20 years into the 21st century.

(Old people are weirdly dumb sometimes — which worries me because I’m not getting any younger myself. Will I make statements like that? Do I do it already?)

Pendant Board
I nearly filled my pendant display while I was there. Every time I taught a wire wrap class, I added another pendant to inventory. Did I mention that I made about as much money teaching how to make pendants as actually selling them?

Woman says to me: “I just started doing wire wrap.”

Husband, looking at my pendant display board with 20+ pieces of my work: “Look. Here are some ideas you can steal.”

Wife looks. “Oh, yes.”

Me: “Why don’t you take a card? There are photos on the website.”

(Although she didn’t catch my sarcasm, I think her husband did. They didn’t stick around and, of course, they didn’t buy anything.)

Man comes up to my display of pendants and runs his fingers over every single one of them. When he’s done, he looks up at me and says, “No burs. Nice work.”

Me, thinking: Gee, thanks. I guess I qualify as a professional. 🙄

(That one really got under my skin. I wonder how much french fry grease he had on his hands.)

Banner
This banner got a lot of attention.

Man to wife as they walk past one of my 9×3 foot banners: “Look. You can learn to make jewelry here and put them out of business.”

Me, thinking: Oh, please try.

(These two didn’t even slow down as they walked past.)

Lady looking at one of the stones I have for sale says to me: “How much did you pay for this?”

Me: …

Her: …

Me: “Don’t you think that asking me my costs is getting a little personal?”

Her: “No.”

Me: …

She didn’t buy the stone.

(She also asked how much I’d charge to wrap a stone she brought to me. I told her my price was $39 but I only did flat stones. She’d been looking at a Shiva shell, which can be found elsewhere at the show and is seldom flat.)

Woman takes a photo of a pair of earrings. “I’m sending this to my husband. He’s in the next row. I can’t buy anything without his approval.”

Me: ”That’s unfortunate.”

Her: [blank stare]

She doesn’t buy the earrings.

(I really don’t think she understood my sarcasm.)

A lot of these stories have the same theme: a complete disregard for the skills and/or feelings of an artist/maker. I can’t tell you how many people came to look at my work clearly with the intention of studying it for ideas. (Tip: what do you think Pinterest is for?) How many photos were taken on the sly? How many whispered conversations between two people, one or both of which wore similar (but not identical) wire wrapped stones before walking off without even acknowledging my greeting?

Again, this wasn’t everyone. It wasn’t even a majority. It was just enough to get under my skin.

And I generally have very thick skin.

Please Respect Artisans

There are two kinds of sellers in this world: sellers who sell what they make and sellers who sell what someone else makes.

An Example

Okay, so these aren’t silver earrings, but they’re a good example of my process. I obtained some coin punch outs from a guy who makes coin rings. I tumbled them to clean/burnish them, then drilled a hole in them and filed down the rough edge created by the drill. Then I used double loop wraps on antiqued copper wire (which I antiqued myself in advance) to attach them to a golden sheen obsidian bead. I attached that to a pre-made hypoallergenic niobium ear wire. They’re cute and they have a story. The entire process takes about 30 minutes per pair and I sell them for $19 at shows.

Coin Earrings

People look at these and they think of the material costs for the coin punch outs, metal, beads, and ear wires. But do they think of the tumbler, pound of mixed stainless steel shot, and burnishing fluid I needed to polish those coin punch outs? Do they think of the center punch and drill and drill bits I needed to drill the hole in each coin punch out? Do they think of the container and chemicals and polishing cloth I needed to antique the wire, stop the antiquing process, and then polish the shine back into the metal? Do they think of the three types of pliers I needed to make the double wrap loops that hold the coin punch, bead, and ear wire together? My investment in equipment alone for this small job exceeds $300. How many pairs of earrings should I need to make to recoup that cost?

And doesn’t my time have any value? Or the time I spent learning and practicing the skills these earrings required me to have?

Sellers who sell what they make — artisans — have a certain level of pride in their work. That pride, along with their skills, equipment cost, materials cost, and selling costs, are what make up their price.

Maybe I can take $3 worth of silver and turn it into a pair of earrings that I sell for $39/pair. But that $3 materials cost doesn’t include the hundreds of dollars I’ve spent on jewelry classes to learn how to make jewelry (and the related travel/lodging expenses), tools and jewelry making equipment, show equipment and displays, show fees, and show travel/lodging expenses. It doesn’t include the hours of practice (and the silver I’ve had to scrap when I didn’t get it right on the first or second (or third) try) and the time it took to form each individual component of the earrings and put them together. And it doesn’t include the pride component — coming up with a new design, pulling it off in such a way that I know it’s good, knowing people will like it and buy it and that it has real value beyond $3 worth of metal.

If you, as a buyer, like those earrings a lot but don’t think they’re worth $39, that’s your problem — not mine. I’m not going to adjust my prices to make you happy. If you won’t buy them, someone else who possibly values them more than you do will. My prices are not outrageous and everything I make eventually sells.

And that’s what I’m telling myself this week, at the end of this rather disappointing show. My next show is an art show where people value the work of artisans. I’ll sell at my regular retail prices and make a lot more money in three days for my work than I made in 24 days at Quartzsite.

The Pendant

Obsidian Pendant
Here’s the finished pendant. You can see my reflection in the rock’s surface; I did a great job polishing it.

Now although my dealings with the biker dude at the beginning of this typically long post weren’t as pleasant as I would have liked, I did my best to create a nice pendant for him in the style he wanted. The stone was kind of thick, so it required a frame of at least four wires (instead of my usual 3; and it might have benefited from five). I didn’t hesitate to use that extra silver. And I made the swooping wire with loops at the end, despite the fact that it required me to attach those swoops to the frame in what’s become a popular but still challenging to pull off decorative flourish. (It’s getting easier every time I do it.) The finished piece looked pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. I polished it up, took a photo, and texted it to him.

He and his companion — the one I probably owed a commission to for talking him into it — arrived just a few minutes later, just as I was packaging it to go. I put the silver chain in the packet. “We love it,” she told me. He seemed to agree. He paid me without comment — I think he was embarrassed — and I handed it over to them. Happy ending all around.

But it was especially happy for me because I stuck to my price and still made the sale. I didn’t let someone disrespect me by convincing me to sell my work for less than I wanted. I was making him a custom pendant. Imagine how bitter I would have felt if I’d done it for less than I thought it was worth? Do you think I would have done as good a job? I’m not sure.

The Easiest Path

I admit that I’m in an enviable position as an “artist.” I put that in quotes because I don’t make my living as an artist — and that’s the basis of my enviable position. I’m not desperate for sales. I can afford to come to a venue like Tyson Wells in Quartzsite, pay a bunch of money for a booth and campsite, and not sell a thing. That would hurt my pride a lot more than my financial standing.

I signed up for my booth at Quartzsite this year for three reasons:

  • It was easy. Let’s face it, traveling around and setting up a show booth for just two or three days, and then tearing it down and moving on gets old if you do it a lot. It’s especially tough when you’re dragging around a trailer and have to worry about where you’re going to spend the night during the show. I did two consecutive shows at Tyson Wells and was able to set up at the beginning and then open my booth on my own schedule for the next 24 days.
  • It included a full hookup for my camper. I was able to park all of my equipment: truck, camper (off the truck), and utility trailer/mobile shop in my double-sized site with my show tent in the front corner. Not only was I able to tap into power to run my fridge and use the microwave, etc., but I also had the convenience of being able to dash into the camper to use my own toilet or heat up some lunch during the day. I was also able to bring power into my shop trailer without running a generator, making it easy to use my printer, heat up my pickle pot, and charge tool batteries.
  • One of my best friends was there. Janet is my best non-Wenatchee area friend and I like to spend time with her. We do a nearly three-mile brisk walk every morning and have a glass or wine and/or dinner together most evenings. She gives me advice about doing shows — which she has been doing as an artist for at least 30 years — and can be relied on for an opinion when I try to make something new and different. I only see her during the winter months and I like to maximize the time we can spend together.

If any one of these things didn’t apply, I probably wouldn’t have come to Tyson Wells for two shows this year.

Going Cheap

My friend Janet did well at this show selling note cards with prints of her original artwork on them. They were priced at $3 and she sold enough of them to make every day contribute to her bottom line. She told me that I need something like that and I agree. But I make jewelry and I’m at a total loss for something I can make and sell at a profit for under $10. Right now I have two items priced at $9 (copper rings which are a pain in the ass to make and novelty keychains made from license place letters) and neither one is a big seller.

The answer, of course, is to go the buy/sell route where I’d buy some sort of mass-produced item and sell that among my handmade things. We agreed on a specific relatively popular jewelry item that I can buy at wholesale pretty cheap and sell at enough of a profit to be worthwhile. But to me, that seems like a “if you can’t beat them, join them” attitude. How could I justify stocking this item when everything else in my booth is handmade by me? It just doesn’t feel right to me.

But I have to consider the drawbacks, too.

  • Sales were disappointing. I haven’t totaled up my results yet, but I know they’re off from where they usually are, even at the worst art show venues I’ve attended. I like to tell myself that I’m paying for the campsite more than the booth and I really think that’s true.
  • Shoppers wanted cheap finds. They seemed more interested in buying items under $10 or $20 than quality items that might cost a little more. This is the main reason I think Quartzsite is the wrong venue for me.
  • Too many shoppers were obnoxious. Maybe my skin is thinner than I thought, but when I can sit in my booth on one day and make a list full of items like the ones I tweeted (and shared above), I’m certainly not being too sensitive — especially when I consider how seldom I experience this at other venues. This really ate away at my self-esteem and generated unhealthy anger.
  • I had to run my booth by myself. While I always man my booth alone, I seldom have to do it every single day for 24 days straight. It’s okay to leave for a few minutes — I did’t lose any inventory — but shutting down for longer breaks is not a good idea. Still, I quickly learned that there were very few shoppers early or late most days so I wound up opening around 10 and closing before 4.
  • I was unable to get much work done during the day. This is partially my fault. If I’d set up my space differently, I might have been able to get work done in my shop trailer while keeping an eye on my booth. So rather than work on projects that required soldering and hammering, which I had to do in the trailer, I stuck to making more pendants, bracelets, and simple earrings. By the end of the day, I was hot and tired and didn’t feel like working on anything new.
  • The dust got into everything. Despite watering down the walkway around my booth every day, the light gravel surface is embedded with dust that gets into everything. After a while, I just felt as if everything was coated with a grit that I’d never get rid of.

  • My Site
    My space was just big enough for me to park my trailer, camper, and truck and squeeze in my 10×10 show tent.

    I was depressed and that depression worsened as time went on. The depression was triggered by a tragic event that I’ll discuss in a future blog post. All I can say is that if Janet wasn’t around to comfort and support me, I would have been lost. I’m dealing with it but I’m also dealing with what I call “The Quartzsite Effect.” That’s the way I feel when I spend too much time in Quartzsite, especially if I’m shoe-horned into a tight campsite like I am at this show. I need to see the horizon, to watch the sun rise or set once in a while. I need quiet and privacy. I figure I’m good for a maximum of two weeks in Quartzsite. I’ve been parked here for nearly a month and I feel almost like a caged animal.

    Tyson Wells 2020
    Here’s an aerial view looking straight down at Tyson Wells Sell-A-Rama on the morning of January 25, 2020. My space is marked in red.

When I put all of this together, I can’t deny the truth: Quartzsite is easy but it’s not right for me. The easiest path is often not the best.

Next Year

I had been debating with Janet about whether I should do this again next year. I was thinking I shouldn’t but she was trying to convince me to try again. In the end, it didn’t matter. I’d already decided I had no interest in being in the same spot (or even row) I was in. I wanted a spot in Janet’s row, which had a lot more foot traffic because it had more vendors. But when I went to the office to see what was available in that row or something equally good, I was told that all of the spots were already reserved. The decision was made for me.

I’m putting my name on a waiting list but really don’t care if they call me or not. This is not the right venue for me and it’s time to move on. Not being able to get a good spot in next year’s show might be the prodding I need to try something else.

And that’s probably what’s best anyway. I’ve been coming to Quartzsite almost every year for the past 20 years. It’s only recently that I’ve begun spending a lot of time here. Maybe enough is enough.