Snowbirding 2019: The Tucson Gem & Mineral Shows

Posted on March 8, 2019 by Maria Langer

A quick overview of my experience with the craziness that is the Tucson Gem and Mineral Shows.

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
•

It rained almost all the way to Tucson from Organ Pipe National Monument. I got into the outskirts of the city before noon. I’d used Google Maps to direct me to a laundromat and it’s probably a good thing that I did. When I went into the camper to fetch my laundry, I saw that my roof was leaking.

I stripped the bed and set up pots and pans under the leaks atop a rubber-backed mat. My goal was to keep my bed dry.

It looked bad. Water was pouring in around the big skylight over the bed and through seams in the sealing slightly forward than that. My comforter was catching most of it. I moved quickly, fetching pots and pans out of the drawer under the stove and positioning them to catch the water. This was not a good situation, but I admit that I was surprised. I’d been in the camper in heavy rain before and had never had a leak.

That’s when I noticed that the skylight wasn’t fully closed. It was open just a tiny crack. I pulled it down the rest of the way and latched it securely. Could that have anything to do with the leaks?

Once the situation was under control, I brought my laundry in and sorted it into two washers. Then I went back out to pull my comforter out from under the pots and see how much water had soaked through. I was lucky; very little water had gone through to the blanket and sheets, which were pretty much clean. I brought the comforter into the laundromat and threw it in a dryer.

Then I went back into the camper with Penny and heated up a can of menudo for lunch. Nothing like hot soup on a cold day.

First Shows

Not my first time

I should clarify something here. This isn’t my first experience with the Tucson Gem and Mineral Show. I’d been to the show once before, in 1995. That’s the winter I lived in Yarnell, AZ to get away from the cold winters at home in New Jersey. My future wasband flew out to join me and the two of us drove down to Tucson, badly damaging my MR2’s front bumper in an accident along the way, to meet up with my future wasband’s cousin, Rick. Ricky believes that certain crystals have certain metaphysical properties that can make your life better. He was in Scottsdale visiting his aunts — really long story there — and met up with us to go to the gem and mineral shows. We were late (because of the accident) and he was pissed.

I honestly don’t remember much about that trip except a general feeling of being overwhelmed. I don’t know what shows we attended, although I don’t remember any of them being big. And I don’t remember what, if anything, any of us bought. I don’t think a trip could be any less memorable. Maybe it’s because I was still stewing over my accident and that nasty dent in my bumper.

After I had lunch, empty and repositioned the pots and pans under the leaks, and got my clean, folded laundry stowed into the dining area of my camper, I headed toward my first show. But before I tell you about that, let me tell you a little about the Tucson Gem and Mineral Shows.

Every year, from the last week or so in January to the second week or so in February, Tucson is basically taken over by at least 50 individual gem and mineral shows. They range from small shows in the lobby of a motel or the parking lot of a shop to huge, multi-tent shows spread out in big parking lots and expo centers. There’s an app to keep track of them, but it isn’t very well designed; it just tells you where each show is and lists each show’s vendors. You basically have to know which show you want to go to to make the best of the situation. I didn’t know where I wanted to go. And worse than that, I was driving a truck and pulling a 12-foot cargo trailer that I would have to park at each show.

Penny on the Table
While water dripped into pans on the bed, Penny’s bed was relocated to my dining table. She didn’t seem to mind.

But while I waited for my laundry to dry, I did some research with my friend Google. I knew I wanted to go to the show at the Kino Gem & Mineral Show because that’s where a friend of mine was showing his lapidary work. I also wanted to go to the JG&M Expo, which was a wholesale show. I had a list of possible shows and I separated them into areas. I figured I could hit at least two of them that first day, which was a Sunday.

So I headed to the Kino Sports Complex. I found a parking spot not far from the main area, near a few other large vehicles or trucks that were towing trailers. It was still raining on and off and there weren’t many people out and about. That’s probably why parking was so good for me. I put Penny in the camper and adjusted the pots and pans on the bed. The dripping had pretty much stopped, but I left the pots and pans in place. I made sure Penny had plenty of food and water and left her alone, locking the camper door behind me.

The Kino show was mostly smaller tents, although there were a few large ones with multiple vendors inside. Very much like what I’d seen in Quartzsite the previous month. The very first vendor I found was Nadri Gems, my source for about 90% of the cabochons I bought in Quartzsite. The guy I usually worked with was there, too, and he remembered me. (How could he not, considering I’d spent about $500 so far?) Knowing this would be my last chance to buy the kind of stones they sold, I filled a tray and made another big purchase. He took about $20 off the total for my purchase.

I walked around the rest of the show, looking at various merchandise. I bought some cord to fix a wind chime I have and a bunch of beads from another vendor who had been in Quartzsite and had already pre-qualified me for wholesale pricing. I was looking for turquoise and certain tools — that was my main reason for coming — and wound up buying a few small turquoise cabochons from a vendor in a big tent that had water running over the astroturf on the ground beneath the booths. (I was glad I’d worn my hiking shoes; the soles were thick enough to keep me above the floodwaters in various places I walked.) I got into a conversation with him about Sonoran Sunset, a stone that had been in high demand from my customers. He told me “there’s a guy set up behind the Howard Johnson who sells that.”

I kept walking around. A lot of the booths were closed because of the rain. I never did find my friend’s booth. There was just too much to look at but it was the same stuff over and over. After my long drive, camper leak situation, and laundry, my internal battery was down to 50%.

I went back to the truck, let Penny out for a run around the wet parking lot, and got into the truck with her. Then I told Google to take me to the next show, JG&M. I was very surprised to find that it was actually quite close by. In fact, I could have walked. Instead, I parked outside the gate where there was room for my rig and walked around the fence to the main entrance.

This was a huge show — actually three shows: Gem Mall, Holidome Show, and JG&M Expo — set up in multiple huge tents. I had to register and because I have reseller information, I could get a wholesale buyer badge. This is a huge benefit to me because it saves me the cost of sales tax. (The jewelry I make is taxed when I sell it.)

Inside the tents were mostly beads. Honestly — I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many beads in my life. All kinds of beads, all kinds of prices, all kinds of gimmicks and sales to get you to shop at one booth rather than another. There were “bead shows” in Tucson, too, but I couldn’t see any reason to go to them after seeing all the beads at this show.

I did wind up buying some beads. I had a blue opal cabochon that was blue and dark gray. I wanted beads to match it so I went from booth to booth and pulled out the cabochon to match. I eventually found what I was looking for at a price I was willing to pay and bought them. I didn’t buy much else, though. Other than beads and imports and finished fine jewelry for jewelry stores, there was nothing much else that interested me.

Well, on second thought, that isn’t really true. One guy did have leather necklaces with sterling clasps that I use for my pendants. Good prices. He also had some display items, including a “neck” that could hold seven chains. I stocked up on the necklaces and bought a neck.

Penny on the Bed
Penny waited for me nestled into my comforter, which I’d stowed on the dry side of the bed while in transit.

When I was finished there — understand that I really breezed through — I decided to try to track down the guy with the Sonoran Sunset. I asked Google to take me to the address of the Howard Johnson. For the first time, Google failed me. It led me to an address inside the local university property, nowhere near where I wanted to be. (Yeah, I know: operator error; garbage in, garbage out. But Google should know what I want!) I pulled into a parking lot and tried again. Fifteen minutes later, I was driving on a narrow road past a handful of small motels, including the Howard Johnson. There were tents set up just about everywhere, but because it was getting late — nearly 5 PM — and the weather was still iffy, many of them were closed. But I figured that since I’d come that far, I should go all the way. I found parking in a muddy lot nearby, left Penny in the truck, and went in search of the Sonoran Sunset seller.

And this is where it got weird.

You see, the motels had been rented out to gem and mineral dealers. They had stripped the furniture out of their rooms and set them up as little showrooms. So as I walked past the doors to the motel rooms, they were all open with their front window curtains pulled aside and set up as shops. One after another with cases of stones. No beds, no night tables, no furniture at all. Just display cases. In some cases, they’d even draped the walls with curtains so the rooms had absolutely no resemblance to a motel room.

I wandered around, past the rooms and tents that were open. I looked at a few things. I never did find the Sonoran Sunset guy. He was either set up in one of the closed booths or not there at all.

Casino Del Sol

By this time, it was getting late, my internal battery was down to 20%, and I was very interested in finding a place to camp for the night before it got dark. My WIN friends in Organ Pipe had mentioned Casino del Sol so I asked Google to guide me there. It choose a weird route through a few neighborhoods but eventually put me at the entrance to the parking lot for a hotel casino complex.

Understand that Arizona does not normally have gambling. Most native American tribes, however, do have gambling. I’m pretty sure this one was for the Tohono O’Odom tribe. I call it the Indian’s Revenge — they suck us in to gamble and make money to support their people. I’m not a gambler, but I have a certain affinity for casinos — one of my favorite ways to spend a day in Vegas is walking the strip, through as many casinos as possible to see how outrageous they have become.

Casinos, of course, usually make an excellent overnight parking spot for RVers. Not only do they have big parking lots and access to restaurants and other amenities, but they also have excellent security. I’ll take a casino parking lot over a truck stop (or Walmart parking lot) any night.

Casino del Sol took overnight RV parking to extremes. There had to be at least fifty rigs parked in one of the outer lots and some of them looked as if they had been set up there for a while. This wasn’t parking — it was camping. I later found out that they had a two-week limit for free RV parking. Two weeks! No wonder so many people were camped out there.

I parked on the other side of a parking lot divider from a motorhome. Penny and I got out just as the motorhome’s owners got out. “Do you mind me parking here tonight?” I asked. I’m pretty sensitive to people parking right next to me and wanted to make sure they weren’t.

“Oh no, not at all,” the woman said. That started a conversation about where I was from and what kind of dog Penny was. I asked about restaurants in the casino. I was thinking about prime rib again. “There are restaurants,” they told me. “But they’re expensive.” They told me about a certain special on a certain night of the week that was a good deal. I don’t remember the details because I knew I wasn’t going to be around. Then they got into a car with another couple and drove away in search of a cheap dinner.

After settling in Penny, I went in for dinner. The steak place, which was supposed to be really good, was closed on Sunday nights. (WTF?) I wound up having Chinese food and sushi. It was good. It was my first meal in a restaurant in over a week. While inside the casino, I discovered that there was another gem and mineral show there, To Bead True Colors/Colors of the Stone, although it was closed until 10 AM the next morning.

Back in the camper, I stowed the pots that had been collecting water earlier in the day. The leaks had stopped — but so had the rain. I put away my laundry and made the bed, which was remarkably dry. I got everything organized.

And then I went to bed.

Breakfast and the Casino Show

I made myself coffee in the morning and took Penny for a walk. Beyond the regular parking lot was a gravel and dirt area where even more people were parked with RVs. We walked between the two areas. Then I put Penny in the camper and went into the casino for breakfast and to check out the show.

I learned a lot at breakfast. I sat at a table for two in the outer part of the only restaurant that served breakfast and they sat another woman who was by herself at the table next to me. She was a jewelry maker from Toronto who came to Tucson every year. She used her budget to cover the cost of transportation, a room in an AirBnB, jewelry making classes, and tools and materials at shows. She was having breakfast before going to the show in the casino.

We chatted for quite a while. I realized that I had the wrong focus in Tucson. I shouldn’t be buying stones and other materials — I could get that cheaper in Quartzite in January. Instead, I should be focusing on educational opportunities and seeing demos of tools and equipment I might find useful for my work. I should be building skills and getting new ideas. She gave me some names and I jotted them down. It will completely change how I approach Tucson next year.

Words of Wisdom from an Unlikely Source

Some of the few actual words of wisdom I remember from 29 years with my wasband is this: “Any job is easy when you have the right tools.” (He used to say that when we watched “This Old House” or “Yankee Workshop” on PBS.) Every time I buy the perfect tool for a task, I think of that.

I have a shit-ton of tools now and lots of jobs that were impossible for me 10 years ago are now very easy.

I got on the express line to sign up as a wholesale buyer for the casino show and, with my badge hanging from a lanyard, went in. This show had a lot more of what I’d come for: tools. I saw a few demonstrations and even got hands-on experience stamping metal the correct way (with the correct tool). I also learned the most valuable thing I learned in Tucson: how to quickly and effectively polish my wire framed pendants. (Hint: it involves a Dremel (or flex shaft) and a specific radial polishing wheel.)

One of the booths sold the full range of Wubbers hand tools and had two women doing demos — they just happened to be the founder of Wubbers, Patti Bullard, who had designed all the tools, and her daughter. Their demos gave me some great ideas for new bracelets and chains; I bought three of their tools. (You can see Patti Bullard’s tool demos on YouTube.)

Chain
In just 10 minutes, Patti Bullard showed me the basic skills I need to make bracelets and chains like these. I’ve since made a prototype of the beaded bracelet in copper.

I also found a booth selling precious metal clay tools — I’d decided to explore that when I got home — and bought a few items to make it easier for me to get started. There were lots of hands-on classes going on and I regretted not planning ahead and signing up for some of them.

Two More Shows

I was done before noon. I took Penny for another walk and pulled out with my rig, which I’d already prepped for traveling. My destination was the JOGS Tucson Gem and Jewelry Show at the Tucson Expo Center. Google Maps guided me. I ended up at a huge X-shaped building near the freeway. The parking lot looked crammed. Against all odds, I drove in, stopping by the valet parking station to ask where I might park. The guy was very friendly and pointed to an area with a few U-Haul trailers. I thanked him, squeezed into a narrow entrance to a disorganized dirt lot, and backed into a spot next to a U-Haul relatively close to the main entrance.

I went in, registered as a wholesale buyer, and walked into the show. The very first booth I saw was all tools — exactly what I had been looking for. Well, not exactly. The truth of the matter is that what I really hoped to buy in Tucson was a large jeweler’s anvil. Spoiler alert: I did not find one. But I did look at a lot of different tools for different jobs.

The rest of that show was about 60% beads and 20% fine jewelry for resale. There was another Nadri Gems booth — those guys are everywhere — and I bought two very nice azurite with chrysocolla cabochons. I bought some more beads. I bought some display pieces. Although I tried to do the building without wandering off path too much, I eventually failed, lost track of where I was, and had a senior moment: which way was out? Too many of those bead booths looked too much alike. I finally got back on track and headed for the exit.

There was a food court outside and I treated myself to Salvadorian food — a sort of thick-shelled soft taco with beans and chicken. Tasty.

I went back to the truck to stow my purchases and let Penny out for a walk. I liked my parking space and I knew that my next destination, which was closer to downtown Tucson, would probably not have such accessible parking. So rather than drive, I put Penny in the camper, locked it up, and called a Lyft.

I was headed for the Kent’s Tools Jewelry & Lapidary Tools and Supply “Show.” I put “show” in quotes because when I got there, the “show” consisted of one guy who made cabochons and did pretty basic wire work under a tent in front of the shop’s entrance. The shop, of course, was Kent’s Tools, which is like a candy store for anyone who is serious about making jewelry or working with stones. This shop has everything — although it was out of stock on the anvil I was looking for — with good prices and a knowledgeable staff. I bought some texturing hammers, a soldering tripod with screen, a metal stamp, some polishing wheels, a brass hammer, and a bunch of other things to outfit my shop at home. All my purchases fit in a big shopping bag. Lyft took me back to JOGS.

Another Night, Another Casino

At this point, I felt done. It was late afternoon and I’d bought most of what I’d come to buy. I didn’t feel capable of looking at another single bead and knew that any show I went to would have lots of them. So I decided to try Tucson’s other casino, Desert Diamond, for an overnight parking spot. It was near the airport and a lot closer to the freeway than Casino del Sol.

The Desert Diamond Hotel.

There were a lot fewer RVs parked at Desert Diamond, and that was okay with me. I found a parking spot on the edge of the lot, not far from an open area where Penny could run loose. Rather than go in for dinner, I decided to have a light meal in my rig and try to organize some of the things I’d bought.

I was asleep by 9 PM.

I the morning, I went into the casino for breakfast. I walked in through the nearby hotel entrance because it was chilly out and I didn’t want to spend more time outdoors than necessary. I got a real treat along the way. The hotel’s design and architectural details are reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright, making a pleasant walk through the space.

Hallway Door
The hallway outside the hotel’s conference rooms and the detail from a door between the hallway and casino. Nicely done!

Breakfast was okay. The only place open was the buffet, which was nearly deserted on that Tuesday morning. I had a fresh-made omelet, too much breakfast meat, and some yogurt with granola. I hate eating at buffets because I always eat too much — although I usually love the variety.

The Metal Bar

I had gotten the idea — okay, I got the idea from YouTube — that I could use a piece of railroad steel as an anvil. The trick, of course, was finding a piece of railroad steel that was only 1 to 2 feet long.

So after breakfast, I worked my phone. I called a handful of metal fabrication places in Tucson and hit what I thought was pay dirt at one of them: the guy I spoke to was pretty sure they had a piece of railroad steel somewhere “out in the yard.”

Of course, when I got there, no one knew who I’d spoken to or what I wanted. No one seemed interested in looking around the yard, either. One guy, trying to be helpful, showed me to an area where they stored rolled steel. They had these two inch square solid bars with rounded edges. I asked if they could be cut. “Sure,” he said. I saw that the price was 83¢/pound and wondered what a one-foot long bar would cost. More than $100? He laughed. Probably about $15.

Ugh! I missed my turn for I-10 heading westbound out of Tucson and Google Maps guided me in a convoluted U-turn. Operator error!

So I told him I’d take a foot. I went to the checkout area and chatted with them men there. One of them had a hobby of making guns and he showed me a few photos on his phone. A few minutes later, a man came in with a one-foot long piece of the solid steel bar. They weighted it: 14 pounds. With tax, it was about $13. I carried it out to my truck and stowed it behind the back passenger seat.

One Last Stop

I did have one last stop to make on my way out of town: an outlet mall just off the freeway. I needed a new pair of jeans and I like to wear Levis. So I hit the Levis store and walked out with two new pairs of jeans.

My next stop was a lunch date in Mesa, AZ. I hopped onto I-10 westbound and headed north.

Snowbirding 2019: A Dose of Civilization

Posted on March 2, 2019 by Maria Langer

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After too much time cooped up in the boonies in my camper, I get back to civilization.

I woke up to another beautiful Arizona day. The storm that had soaked and snowcapped the state the previous week was long gone.

I checked the map and realized that the road I was near — Bush Highway — wasn’t really close to the one I needed to be on — Beeline Highway — to get to Fountain Hills. Oops. No matter. Instead of having a 20 minute drive, I’d have a 40 minute drive. It wasn’t like I was in a hurry. My destination was the big art show in Fountain Hills where my friends Janet and Steve were showing and selling Janet’s paintings. They’d been just about rained out on Friday but Saturday had been a good day for them and that day, Sunday, looked like it might be good, too. As long as I got there before 10 AM, I’d likely find a parking space for my rig. Other than that, I was in no hurry.

McDowell Sunrise
Mother Nature treated us to a nice sunrise. That’s Four Peaks again in the distance.

My Rig
My rig in its overnight campsite. I had to make an approximately 160° turn to get out of there.

After a light breakfast, I packed up my grill, which was about the only thing I’d taken out, and headed out. My biggest challenge was getting my camper pointed down the narrow road I needed to be on; it took several moves to make the turn.

At the gate, I had to unlock it and get it opened to leave. Someone was waiting right behind me and I was very happy to see him stop and close the gate once we’d both pulled through.

Wild Horses

Rather than double back toward Phoenix, I decided to continue east along Bush Highway until it met up with Beeline and then head west from there. It was a very pleasant drive with great views of Four Peaks and other snow covered mountains.

It wasn’t long before I started seeing signs indicating that I was in a wild horse area. From road signs to signs painted on the road itself, I was repeatedly warned that there were wild horses around. I looked. I didn’t see any.

Until I did. About a mile or two short of Beeline, at least a dozen horses in all horsey colors grazed on a hillside near the road. People had stopped with cameras to take photos. If the parking situation had been a little better, I probably would have stopped, too.

Wild horses have become a bit of a problem in the west. You see, unchecked, their populations explode, with herds all over the state. I knew from flying in Arizona for so many years exactly where I could find them: along the Gila River west of Chandler, along the Verde and Salt Rivers east of Phoenix, west of I-17 not far from Prescott Valley were just three places. I’d also flown over them in remote areas of Nevada, Oregon, Idaho, California, and Washington. I’d even been hired by the Yakama Nation to help them round up horses the previous spring.

While there’s some sort of romantic notion that wild horses belong in the west, there are clearly too many of them. In Washington, on the Yakama Reservation, their populations grow beyond available food supplies, leaving them to die of hunger during the late summer and through the winter. They’re also competing with cattle for grass and water, which isn’t a good thing for the cattle industry. Although some groups are able to round up and auction off some of the horses, that’s an expensive proposition and there aren’t too many people who want a wild horse.

What’s the answer? In my opinion, population control through sterilization. I’d hate to see the horses shot — although there are apparently people who think this is a viable solution. But because all solutions cost money and money can be really scarce to fight problems like this, it’s more likely that nothing sufficient will be done and the problem will continue to plague the west.

Anyway, I didn’t stop so I don’t have photos. Sorry.

At Fountain Hills

The community of Fountain Hills seemed to be still asleep when I arrived at around 9:30 AM. I drove into town on the main road until it ended with a road block for the Art Show. Then I turned right and slid into some curbside parking on an otherwise empty street. I figured I was about 3 blocks from where I had to go.

Penny and I cut through a few parking lots until we homed in on Janet and Steve’s rig parked in a private parking lot right off the fair area. Steve was inside, getting ready to go. Janet was already at the booth. Steve pointed. We went.

Most of the booths were still closed up, although a few showed some signs of opening. The event started at 10 AM but Sundays are usually a slow start day because so many people go to church.

I watched Janet finish opening her booth. She had a single booth at this show because of its high cost. Rather than fill it with both her acrylic paintings on feathers and oil paintings on canvas, she’d stuck with her feather art, which seems to sell better anyway. Her booth, as usual, looked incredibly professional with its solid gray panel walls and other display components.

When Steve joined us, we walked the show together. It was huge. About 75% of the booths were open at 10 AM; they were all open by the time I walked it a second time more than an hour later. In general, the quality of the work on display was pretty darn good, although there were a few too many buy-and-sell vendors. (Honestly, I counted four vendors selling the same damn ceramic garlic grater under different names.) I should mention here that there were actually three shows: the main show Janet was part of and two much smaller “scab” shows that set up nearby to grab the same crowd. And there was quite a crowd; by noon the place was really buzzing with shoppers.

Fountain Hills Show
Here’s a look down the Main Street of booths. You can see the fountain in the distance.

I came very close to buying a mobile of fish made from silverware but controlled myself. I did, however, buy a refrigerator magnet of a Volkswagen Beetle for a bug owner friend of mine. I got some ideas about displaying my own jewelry at shows and a few ideas for making various jewelry pieces.

After walking the show twice, Penny and I took a walk around the “lake.” Fountain Hills is famous for its fountain, which is one of the tallest in the world and goes off every hour on the hour (weather permitting). I used to take my helicopter passengers to see it if the timing was right on one of my Salt River tours out of Deer Valley or Falcon Field years ago. I saw it shoot off twice that day. The walkway around the lake — which is really just a big pond holding water for the fountain — was 1.2 miles long and we did it at a brisk pace.

The fountain at Fountain Hills around midday on Sunday, February 24.

Penny, by the way, had become quite a celebrity. Several people wanted photos of her. Others called her Toto. Too many asked what kind of dog she was. I finally told them she was a Quincy Terrier and let it go at that.

It was nearly 2 PM when I was done with Fountain Hills. I said goodbye to Janet and Steve and headed back to the truck.

Back to Gilbert

Meanwhile, I had been in touch with Jan and Tiffani, my friends in Gilbert. Jan was recovered from his cold. They wanted me to visit. Tiffani put out two carrots: a shower and laundry. How could I resist?

On the way to their house, I stopped at Sprouts and Trader Joe’s to stock up on a few items I was unlikely to find elsewhere. Sprouts had those Cutie oranges I’m addicted to for just $1.99/bag. I bought two bags.

Lounging poolside. Tiffani was amazed at how good my pedicure looked after six weeks. I still didn’t like the color of my nails.

Penny & Ruby
Penny and her friend Ruby joined me on the lounge chair after a while. It was a perfect day to relax outdoors.

When I got to their place, they weren’t there. They, like so many of the people who lived in the Phoenix area, had gone for a closer look at the snow. Now they were stuck in rodeo traffic in Apache Junction. They texted me the combination to their door. I went in, checked on their dogs and cats, threw in a load of wash, and then retired to poolside where I very nearly fell asleep in the sun.

When they got back, we relaxed together and separately while watching and not watching the Oscars. Jan had gotten the 16-inch telescope we’d gone to look at during my January visit. He’d had his backyard observatory modified and a mount installed for it. Now he was working on calibration. Tiffani liked to spend evenings on the back patio, reading on her tablet. While I watched the Oscars and followed it on Twitter, the two of them came in and out, mostly to refill their wine glasses.

When it was all over, Jan bought The Favorite on Apple TV and Tiffani and I watched it. I agree that the actress who played Queen Anne deserved an Oscar. But what a disturbing movie!

The Corvette
Jan’s Corvette.

The next day, Jan went to work and Tiffani and I ran errands. We started off in Jan’s Corvette, which Tiffani told me to drive since she doesn’t like driving on freeways. We dropped Penny off to be groomed at PetCo. Along the way, the car was making a weird rattling noise, like something was banging around by the front driver’s side tire. Tiffani said she thought they’d had that fixed.

So we took the car home and she called an Uber to take us to Scottsdale. We picked up medicine for her cat, than walked a half mile to a restaurant I’d eaten in the previous year, The Mission, which is in touristy Old Scottsdale.

Along the way, Tiffani explained the difference between tourists and tourons. They were easy to distinguish; tourons act like idiots, blocking the sidewalks so they can get photos of themselves in front of things like cactuses.

Dessert
Pumpkin bread pudding with ice cream.

We had an excellent lunch at the Mission, eating outside on the covered patio. I highly recommend it, especially the guacamole made table side by someone who apparently makes guacamole all day. Tiffani tried to get the server to give her the check, telling her it was my birthday. I denied it and begged for the check since Tiffani was Ubering us all over the valley. The server compromised: she gave me the check but also gave me a free dessert for my birthday. (For the record, my birthday is in June.)

From there, we took another Uber to PetCo to pick up Penny and then back to Tiffani’s house. I promptly went into the bedroom for a nap and managed to sleep through their Chinese takeout dinner, which was okay because I was completely stuffed from my huge lunch.

I should mention here that the main reason I was staying a second day is because I had applied for an art show in Litchfield Park and the woman who was in charge kept promising she’d be in touch to let me know if she had room for me. This had been going on for two weeks now and the show’s setup date was the upcoming Friday. I’d called and emailed her several times and although she never replied to the email, she made only promises of future contact on the phone. I didn’t want to nag her, but I also didn’t want to be 100 miles away when she finally called and told me she had room for me. So I was delaying in the Phoenix area just in case she got her act together and called. But it didn’t seem like that would happen and I was pretty much done waiting.

We had another relaxing evening together and apart. Jan showed me the Orion Nebula through the telescope and I couldn’t help but wonder how incredible the view would be if he had darker skies. Tiffani read her book on the patio. I watched jewelry making videos on their ginormous TV.

In the morning, I stripped the bed and threw the sheets into the washer with the last of my laundry. Jan made us breakfast. By 9 AM, they were leaving. By 9:30 AM, the guest room bed was remade and I was stepping out the front door with my laundry. I locked up and headed out for the next stage of my travels: more roughing it along the Colorado River.

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.

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 Postcards: Superstition Mountains

Posted on February 22, 2019 by Maria Langer

I’m still in Arizona and still in my camper and still pulling my little cargo trailer. I signed up to display and sell my jewelry at an art show in Apache Junction this Saturday (tomorrow). I needed a place nearby to hunker down through the winter storm that was expected. Although a friend in nearby Mesa invited me to stay at her house, her husband has a terrible cold (again; what’s with that, Jan?) and I thought it best to stay clear.

I wound up just outside of the National Forest land north of Apache Junction, less than 5 miles from the Superstition Mountains. I found a relatively level spot alongside a wide dirt area, dropped the camper’s rear legs to level and stabilize it while still on the truck bed, and settled in for a three night stay.

The Superstition Mountains were right out my dining area window. They glowed in Wednesday’s late afternoon light.

The Superstition Mountains in last light.

The expected winter storm came in right on schedule with scattered rain showers starting during the night and then turning to a steady rain just afternoon on Thursday. I had planned ahead and had everything I needed to work on a big jewelry project inside the camper. I listened to a recorded book while I started work on a fine silver chain for a customer. I even did a little live tweeting with photos.

The rain continued throughout the rest of the day and into the night, turning the dirt area near me and the dirt road I’d taken to get to my campsite into thick mud and reddish brown flowing puddles. The mudders came by in their trucks at 5 PM and some of them were still playing in the mud when I went to sleep at 9.

In the morning, it was still raining, but lighter. And when I looked out the window, I saw the Superstition Mountains blanketed with snow.

The Superstition Mountains blanketed with snow the morning after a winter storm.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the Phoenix area, this is not normal. I consider myself lucky to have the chance to see it.

The rain is starting to let up now, but I’ll spend the rest of the day here, finishing up that jewelry project and making a few pairs of earrings I need for tomorrow’s show. With luck, I’ll be able to get out of here tomorrow morning at 7 to set up for that show; I admit to having doubts, mostly because of the condition of the road. I’m sure the mudders will be back in force today; maybe I’ll get some video of their antics.

And, with luck, I’ll get another afternoon shot of the Superstitions in last light, perhaps with some lingering snow.

Snowbirding 2019: Off Plomosa Road

Posted on February 5, 2019 by Maria Langer

Some rockhounding and a campsite on the edge of the desert crowd.

I left Wickenburg for what would be a 17-day stay in the Quartzsite area just after noon on Friday. The first part of that stay was completely unstructured; I’ll tell you a little about it here.

The First Rockhounding Hike

On my Christmas wish list was a book called Gem Trails of Arizona and my brother got it for me for Christmas. I packed it and took it south with me. The same book was being sold by my next door neighbor at the Flagg Gem and Mineral Show in Mesa and I had a chance to thumb through it. I was motivated to try a few of the sites and, since one of them was right along my route to Quartzsite from Wickenburg, I figured I’d start there.

Understand that I’m only interested in one kind of stone: stones I can polish into cabochons to put into jewelry. Crystals don’t interest me very much at all. Neither do minerals that show all kinds of cool features that might interest collectors. If it can’t be polished into a cabochon, I’m just not interested.

That said, this particular site, titled Brenda Jasper in the book, was said to have “some very colorful jasper. Specimens show a variety of markings and inclusions, including yellow and red flower patterns, moss, paisleys, and some streaked with purple and blue. In addition, there is a host of multicolored materials, as well as some possessing only single shades of yellow, orange, purple or red.” Putting aside the redundant nature of this description, this sounded just like what I was looking for. I had some experience polishing jasper and it was all good. Best of all, the site was a short walk from the main road, Route 60, and the description mentioned a parking area about a half mile away that I’d likely be able to get my rig with its trailer into.

I used Google Earth in an attempt to find the place and its parking area on the map. What I found didn’t match what was described, but it might be close. It looked like plenty of room for me to park. I set up Google to guide me there. About an hour after leaving Wickenburg on an uneventful drive, I arrived. I eased the truck and trailer off a lip between the road and the parking area, moved up enough that someone could get in behind me, and killed the engine.

I wasn’t sure if I was in the right place. After all, the place I’d parked wasn’t mentioned at all in the description. The description also said that I’d have to crawl under a fence, but when Penny and I crossed the road, there was a narrow gap in the fence that was clearly designed to let people but not cattle through. Beyond that was a trail and we started up it, heading south.

I immediately saw small pieces of what I assume is yellow jasper. I picked up a few that could be cut into cabochons without slabbing. There was red jasper, too, and I collected some of that. We hiked up the trail and into the rocky hills. Up there I found some small crystals, which I left behind. None of them were very impressive, although they might make a good find for kids just starting out as rockhounds. Best to leave it for them.

We spent about an hour wandering around and I collected a bunch of rocks that I thought might polish up nicely. Even though the book’s instructions on how to get there were not exactly accurate, I had definitely found the right place and some usable rocks. As for the more impressive patterned and multi-colored materials, they’d either been picked out or required digging, which I was not prepared to do.

Here’s a view from the saddle of the little mountain we climbed during my rock hunt. That white dot in the middle of the photo is my truck with the camper on top.

Satisfied, we went back to the rig, climbed in, and continued our drive.

Plomosa Road

What I learned at Plomosa Camp

Over the next few days, I learned a few things at this campsite:

First, because my solar panels are mounted on the front of my camper’s roof and tilt slightly down toward the front, knowledgeable friends had advised me to park with the front facing south to maximize solar energy collection. At this campsite, I parked with the front facing southwest, despite the fact that I like my camper door (in the back) to face south to maximize sunlight indoors. Yes, I collected more sunlight — while the sun was out. But I was also unhappy because of limited light inside and the fact that I could see neither sunrise nor sunset through the camper’s windows. (It reminded me of the cavelike condo my wasband had in Phoenix.) And since we had two overcast and rainy days, solar collection wasn’t sufficient to keep my batteries topped off during the day for part of the stay so I had to run my generator anyway.

Second, people in RVs use their generators too damn much. One night someone nearby had his running until after 11 PM. Seriously? What the hell are you doing in your box that you need a generator running that long? Shut off the fucking television and talk to your companion. Play cards. Read a book. Have sex. Go out and look at the stars. None of these things require a noisy generator. Stop being so fucking selfish.

Third, during a government shutdown when there are no BLM rangers around, people pretty much ignore the signs and park wherever they damn please. So by the end of my stay I was no longer on the edge of the camping area; there were people parked around me in every direction.

I had spent enough time studying the rockhounding book to know that the 14-day camp area on BLM land adjacent to Plomosa Road would be a good, free location to camp that was central to several other rockhounding sites. With that mind, when I got into Quartzsite I turned north on route 95 toward Parker, then made the right turn onto Plomosa.

Plomosa is a paved road that runs between route 95 and the small town of Bouse. The camping area stretches along the road to the north and south, limited mostly by a few washes and sandy areas that RVs can’t easily get through. There were a lot of RVs already parked out there and I didn’t want to be near any of them. So I headed out on Plomosa, planning to park somewhere beyond the throng.

My plans were dashed, however, by a sign on the road that said, “No Overnight Camping Beyond this Point.” Crap.

I turned around and pulled off the road the first place I could. Okay, I thought. I’ll go north in the desert beyond all of these people.

Dashed again. Another series of signs about 1/4 mile into the desert that said the same thing. They basically formed a barrier beyond which the BLM simply didn’t want you to camp.

Fine. I parked 50 feet in from one of the signs. I was on the edge of the camping area with no one anywhere near. That would have to be good enough.

I disconnected the trailer, then pulled the truck and camper around so the door of the camper was at a 90° angle to the back doors of the trailer. Then I dropped the camper legs and pulled the truck away. I set up the saw horses under the camper, since I expected to stay for more than just a few days and wanted it as stable as possible.

Here’s how I set up my camp on Plomosa Road. I use the saw horses any time I expect to stay for more than a few days.

Here’s an aerial view of my Plomosa Road campsite, snapped with my drone before the camping area got crowded. My camp is at the bottom; this shot looks southwest.

By this time, it was late afternoon and I was done for the day. Mother Nature rewarded me with a beautiful sunset.

Sunset from my campsite on Plomosa Road.

I made myself a quick dinner, relaxed, and was asleep before 9 PM.

More Rockhounding

In the morning, Penny and I got an early start on a rockhounding trip to two sites farther up Plomosa Road toward Bouse. The first site — or group of sites — was called “Plomosa Road Minerals” and promised quartz, jasper, agate, calcite, and other stones I knew could polish up nicely. And the directions seemed clear enough, even offering a mile marker on the road as a landmark.

But it wasn’t that easy. When I got to the mile marker, it wasn’t clear which road I needed to turn at. It was another BLM camping area and there were dozens of people camped out there. There were far more roads than the directions indicated.

I spent too much time looking for rocks and not enough time taking photos of the desert around me. Here’s one of the photos I did stop to take.

I did my best to find Site A, which was the closest and seemed to be the easiest to find. But it wasn’t clear where I was supposed to go. I wound up parking near a mining claim on a hill and wandered around far enough away that I wouldn’t violate the claim. (At least I tried to.) I found a handful of stones that looked interesting, although I have no idea what they are.

I tried to find Site C next and failed miserably.

When I tried to find Site B, following the instructions to the letter, I got lost when it said to head toward “a small mountain range” and there was no mountain range anywhere near or in front of me.

Then I decided to try using the GPS coordinates provided in the book to zero in on a site. They were presented in degrees with decimal minutes — for example, 33° 49.78′ N and 114° 03.95′ W — and I needed to convert them to decimal degrees to enter them into Google maps on my iPhone (since I still can’t figure out how to type a ° symbol on iOS) — for example, 33.8296 -114.0658. When I entered the coordinates, the pointer showed me a location that was nowhere near where the directions sent me. In one case, the GPS pointed to a location on the other side of Plomosa Road from the location indicated on the piss poor map in the book.

I checked the book’s introduction to see why the coordinates might be off and found this paragraph [my comments added]:

This edition provides GPS coordinates to assist with finding the sites. Coordinates were taken using a DeLorme Earthmate GPS PN-20 [perhaps pre-WAAS?] and/or supplied by David A Kelty, author of The GPS Guide to Western Gem Trails [which is probably the book I should have bought]. It is important to understand, however, that determining exactly where to take the reading is a little difficult [How so? Find a rock, take a reading. Seems simple to me.] and might actually be misleading [ya think?]. In some cases, if a site is quite extensive, an approximate mid-point coordinate is given [which makes sense]. In other spots, due to mountain or canyon wall interference, a GPS reading was taken and then either confirmed or modified [?!] using a computerized mapping program. Please do not think the the GPS coordinates will place you exactly on top of the absolute best part of any given site. [I don’t expect that, but I do expect them to match the directions and get me to the rocks.] They are provided only to assist in confirming that you are at or near [within a few miles, apparently] where you should be. The maps [which are NOT to scale] and driving instructions should be your primary source of information in regard to site access [so you’re pretty much screwed because those stink].

As my inserted comments indicate, I was starting to realize that the book was not to be relied upon. Although revised in 2009, I suspect that the author didn’t make much of an effort to visit every single site in the book. That would explain the unclear directions, erroneous GPS coordinates, and crude, inaccurate maps.

Still, I’d done okay with the Brenda site. Maybe this group of sites was a bad one. I’d try another: Bouse Hematite & Jasper. This one provided instruction from Bouse that included a cattle guard as a landmark. To make sure I had the right cattle guard, I drove all the way into Bouse. While I was there, I had lunch at a cafe — the only one in town. Then I was back on the road, following the directions.

I knew there would be a problem when the directions said to turn right 0.3 miles past the cattle guard and there was no turn there. Instead, there was a turn at the cattle guard. I turned. I tried to follow the directions and I think I may have gotten close. But there was nothing worth picking up when I finally stopped for a look.

By that time, I was pretty much done and started heading back to the camper. Along the way, I caught sight of an old mine off in the distance. When I found a road that might take me close, I followed it. I parked the truck in a turnout just before the road descended into a sandy wash. Penny and I got out to walk around. I eventually found a handful of stones that may have included jasper and chrysocolla. The mine sites were really nothing more than survey sites. We got back in the truck and headed back.

When we reached the camper, I discovered that a group of about 10 fifth wheel campers had parked nearby. I’d be listening to their generators whenever I was at camp for the rest of my stay.

Moon Mountain

The next day, I went into Quartzsite for propane and water. It had been cold at night and I was using my heater. Just because I’m camping doesn’t mean I need to be uncomfortable.

But I also thought I’d take the opportunity to try to find one more site from the book: Moon Mountain Petrified Wood. This site promised petrified wood, agate, and jasper. If I found it, I felt I could trust the book for more rockhounding. If I didn’t, I figured I’d stow the book in a cabinet for the rest of the trip.

The search started off bad. It directed me to Avenue 24E or Moon Mountain Road. There was no Avenue 24E in Quartzsite but there was a Moon Mountain Avenue. Unfortunately, Moon Mountain Avenue ends with a roadblock and a few tentative 4×4 trails into a sandy wash beyond. I turned left and then made a right onto a road that seemed to go the same place as Moon Mountain Road on the book’s crappy map. It was called Boyer Road and later called Boyer Gap. I followed it along a bumpy graded road heading northwest into the empty desert. The book told me I’d be heading toward “distant cliffs in the northwest” but the only rise I saw out there was what looked like a small mountain range and it was very far away. Was I on the right road?

I continued bumping along until I found a fork in the road that may have been the one in the book. I kept right. The road got worse. The book’s directions said to “continue approximately 9.5 more rough and sandy miles.” I was driving at about 15 miles per hour. The thought of spending more than 30 minutes bumping along a road that may or may not be the right one and may or may not take me to a viable rockhounding site was depressing. I tried plugging in the GPS coordinates and it told me I was going the right direction. But Google Maps satellite view didn’t show any kind of road at all where the coordinates were.

Was this another wild goose hunt?

It could be.

Did I really want to drive all the way out there and not find what I was looking for?

No. I turned around and went back.

At Camp and Beyond

I filled my propane and water bottles back in town and went back to camp. There were more RVs parked nearby. In fact, the camping area was really starting to fill up. This didn’t surprise me much. Quartzsite’s peak time for winter visitors was during the big RV show that ran (this year) from January 19 through 27. It was January 13, a week before the craziest part of the month would begin. The desert dwellers were beginning to arrive in force.

One of my camp chores was to pull all the nails and other metal debris out of the fire pit I drove over when I parked my camper. (I honestly didn’t see it.) I bought a high-powered magnet in Quartzsite just for the task. I got this is what I got the first time I worked the pit; I got the same amount when I did it again a few days later in preparation for getting the camper back on the truck.

I did camp chores: topping off my water supply, installing the filled propane tank, taking out my portable barbecue grill to grill up some more of the ribs I’d smoked at home and brought with me, vacuum sealed and frozen. I took it easy. I wrote blog posts — I was terribly behind in my trip reporting (and still am).

I also took out my drone and sent it up for a few flights to document the RV-filled desert around me. I was in Quartzsite to do drone photography (again) although I really wanted to do more work with my jewelry. I did finally spend some time making a few pendants.

Here’s a look west down Plomosa Road just after dawn one day. The desert was just starting to fill with RVers.

On Monday, Penny and I headed up to Parker. I needed to do laundry before the RV show started, since once I was set up in the big RV show tent I didn’t think I’d get much time to take care of things like that. I figured I’d also do some grocery shopping, get some documents printed, and then head down to Ehrenberg to check for mail. A neat little loop. That took most of the day. Although I really like the laundromat in Parker, the number of winter visitors competing for washers and dryers makes doing laundry almost a blood sport.

That afternoon, after we got back, it started to rain. Hard. I love a good desert rain, but this was more of a deluge. Visibility dropped to less than a quarter mile and the mountains around me disappeared. So did a lot of the RVs. The desert me, which was mostly flat there with a slight slope, developed pools of water that flowed like little streams anywhere it had flowed in the past. It kept me and Penny inside the camper for the rest of the day.

The view out my back door at the peak of the rainstorm.

A Day in Quartzsite

The next day, I headed into Quartzsite for my meeting with the RV show owners. I’d be doing some drone photography for them and they wanted to make sure I knew exactly what they wanted. After chatting for a while inside the big toy hauler they were using as an office, I went out with Kenny in a golf cart to tour the rain-soaked venue.

The big RV show tent had gone up while I was in the Phoenix area or Wickenburg. This really disappointed me, since I was hoping to create a time-lapse movie of its erection. After all, how often do you see men raise a 65,000 square foot tent? It would have made such a cool movie. Maybe next year?

At that point, they were putting the finishing touches on the interior of the tent, which Kenny drove right into. I got to see where my little 10×10 booth would be. I got to think about how I could get aerial footage inside the tent without violating FAR part 107 — specifically, flight over people. Show management was expecting huge crowds on Saturday morning and they wanted to make sure I was able to show just how busy the show was.

Here are some of the stones I bought that week.

Afterwards, I headed over to Tyson Wells, which was between shows. The rock show had just ended on Sunday and Sell-A-Rama was due to start on Friday. My friends Janet and Steve would be out in a day or two to start setting up for the next show. The weird thing about Tyson Wells is that if you’re signed up for two consecutive shows and have the same spot in both shows, you can keep your booth open on that week between shows. So about half the venue had open booths. Before the week was out, I’d do my big stone shopping trip, buying more than 70 cabochons from my favorite shop.

On To My Next Destination

On Wednesday morning, I packed up my camper, put it back onto my truck, and connected the trailer again. It was time for a little “luxury” — a sort of full hookup campsite at the RV show in Quartzsite. As I drove away from the now crowded camping area, I wondered how long it would be before someone else slipped into my vacated spot in the desert.

An Eclectic Mind

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

Tag Archives: snowbirding