Picking Up My New Old Trailer

I take delivery of a new used cargo trailer for my mobile jewelry shop.

My October trip to Tacoma, which I cover in another blog post, was the first half of a two-part trip. The second half was a stop in Yakima to pick up a trailer I’d seen there back in September. I’d told the owner, a guy named Mike who owned the local Lance dealership, that I’d be there around 11 AM on Monday. It was Sunday afternoon when I finished my business in Tacoma.

Researching the Trip

I’d originally planned to spend another night behind TMAC, but since there was nothing really appealing about the place as a campsite, I figured I get started on my way to Yakima that afternoon and camp along the way.

I did some homework. First, I checked out the most direct route which, I as expected, had me going through Chinook Pass near Mt. Rainier. Chinook is usually the first pass to close every winter. WADOT reported that it was still open with no restrictions. There was a slight chance of snow that day, so I knew I’d have to check again later.

Then I looked for a campsite. I have an app (Ultimate CG) that lists all public land camping areas. I didn’t want to be too close to the pass because I didn’t want to have to run the heater all night with the cooler temperatures at altitude. It took time — a surprising number of campgrounds were already closed for the season. I found a campground near Naches called Cottonwood that was open year-round and picked that as a destination.

After class, I walked Penny, secured loose items in the camper, and climbed into the truck. I checked Chinook Pass again; it was still clear with no restrictions. It was nearly 5 PM when I rolled out of the parking area and started on my trip to a destination 73 miles away.

The Trip to Yakima

It was freeway driving until I got off of Route 18 and headed toward Mt. Rainier. Eventually, I passed through the last town and started climbing on a two-lane road that wound through the forest. Although the weather was overcast and the light was disappointing, I enjoyed views of autumn colors all around me, especially the bright yellow larches. Unfortunately, the road was full of frost heave bumps that forced me to drive 5 to 10 miles below the speed limit. Google Maps kept adjusting my arrival time. When I still had cell service, I asked Siri what time sunset was at Yakima. 6:15, she reported. Google told me that I would not arrive until 6:45 PM.

I passed a few spots where I knew I could find a campsite in the National Forest. I was eager to get over the pass that day in case it snowed overnight. I didn’t want to have to start the next morning by backtracking to a different pass. So I kept going.

Clouds hid Mt. Rainier at a view point I passed. Soon I was climbing up into those clouds. The fog got thick on the narrow road. The pavement was wet. The outside temperature was only 39° then 37°. I slowed down even more. The guy in front of me speeded away and the guy behind me got closer, but there was nowhere to pull over to let him pass.

I didn’t realize I was near the pass until I saw the sign for the parking area for the little lake up there. I couldn’t see the lake or the mountain peaks I knew were beyond it. I couldn’t even see the parking area. Then I drove under the underpass right at the top of the pass. I knew there was a parking area to my right and I pulled into it so the guy behind me could pass. The air was already clearing; the clouds were mostly caught up on the west side of the mountains. The guy passed and I got back on the road, now able to see quite well.

But it was getting late; sunset was only minutes away. I still had 30 miles to go. As I came down the east side of the mountains, I began looking for an alternative place to spend the night. I passed a few closed campgrounds and then came upon an area where gravel roads led off to the left or right. There was a bridge over a creek and a road just before it. I slowed down but was going too fast to stop. It didn’t matter; there were people camping in there anyway. But on the other side of the creek was another turn. I stopped just past it, backed up a little, and drove in.

The Perfect Campsite

There was a flat area just off the road that would have been okay to camp in — if I didn’t mind being right next to the road. But beyond that was a short steep hill with an empty campsite beyond it. I got out to take a look. If I could get the truck up the hill, there was plenty of level space for me. I got back in and drove up the incline. It was no problem for my big 4WD truck. I spotted a perfectly flat area cleared of all forest debris that looked as if it had been occupied by a very large tent. I turned the truck around in the relatively tight space and backed in.

Perfect Campsite
This was, by far, one of the nicest just-off-the-road campsites I’d ever had the pleasure to spend the night in. Level, quiet, private.

With nothing but forest out my back door and a rushing creek off to one side, I had found the perfect campsite. I shut down the truck and got out with Penny. I took a picture of my truck parked against the woods. It reminded me of why I’d bought a truck camper instead of a pull trailer and how glad I was that I did.

It was already getting dark, so we didn’t spend much time exploring. I was hungry and it was getting chilly. We went inside. I turned on the heat, gave Penny some more food, and made myself dinner. With absolutely no cell signal to distract me with web surfing, I spent most of the evening writing this blog post. Then I climbed into bed and read for a while on my iPad. I saw the moon rising through the trees through the window by my head. It was dead quiet.

Later that night, I woke up and spent some time listening to the sound of the rushing creek and watching, through my big plexiglas skylight, the full moon peeking down at me through the trees and clouds. It really was the perfect campsite.

Moonlight thru the Trees
I know it isn’t a great photo, but it was a great moment. The full moon as seen through my camper’s sunroof, poking through scattered clouds and evergreen trees.

Picking Up the Trailer

American River
The American River separated my campsite from the one I’d seen the night before.

The next morning, I made coffee and spent some time at my table writing the first part of this blog post. It didn’t get light until around 7 AM. That’s when I let Penny out and made some breakfast. I took a photo of the creek next to my campsite — actually, the American River — before going back in to do the dishes, strip the bed, and secure loose items for the last day of my trip.

I had a minor “black ice” experience not long after getting on the road. It was about 31°F outside and the road was just wet enough to have a thin layer of ice on it. I was driving along at about the speed limit when I realized that I was sliding ever so slightly. I took my foot off the gas and complete control came back quickly. I drove slower until the temperature topped 35°F.

I had no internet connection so I couldn’t use Google to navigate. It wasn’t a big deal; I figured I could find Yakima easily enough. But I also wanted to check out Cottonwood Campground for future reference. I found it about 20 minutes after leaving the campsite. It was a nice little campground with a few campers in it. I stopped to dump my garbage. If they had a dumping station, I probably would have used that, too.

Internet came back with a flurry of text messages and notifications. I pulled over for a moment to see if I’d missed anything important. Mike had texted me to see if I was still coming that morning. I checked the time and realized I was right on schedule to arrive at 11 AM and texted him to let him know.

Eventually, I rolled up at the Lance dealership and pulled around in back. Mike greeted me and spent some time showing me the trailer again. The only other time I’d seen it, it had been parked in a fenced in area that made it impossible to get the back ramp down. We got the ramp down all the way. I was pleased to see that the door lock was not only there but it actually worked. So did the lock for the front toolbox. The lights inside even worked. It was spotlessly clean — he’d washed it inside and out. He’d even checked the tire pressures and the torque on the lug nuts.

Resized952019101295165139954891 Trailer Ramp
My new old cargo trailer. It’s a 2013 (I think) and in amazing condition. The names painted with the flowers on the front are the original owner’s dogs’ names. (I can’t make this stuff up.) I know it has only one axle and I know a lot of people think two axles is a lot better. But a one axle trailer is easier to maneuver for parking and that’s what I wanted. I also wanted the interior lights and ceiling vent. The only thing I didn’t want was the ramp door — I wanted barn doors in back — but I know ramps are better for resale. I don’t expect to own this more than a few years.

Mike spent a lot of time looking for a spare tire for it. He thought it had one but his co-owner brother said it didn’t. They’d owned the trailer for a long time; Mike had bought it for personal use and never actually used it. In the end, he didn’t find a spare. I was okay with that; I’d buy one at the local tire shop. I’d gotten a good deal and didn’t mind spending a little more to make it perfect. I knew I’d be spending about $300 to install E-Track in it within the next month or so anyway.

We did the paperwork and I gave him a check. Then he guided me to hook it up behind my truck with the camper on top and the extended tow hitch on back. After we had it all hooked up, he stood back to admire it. I think he was tickled that the color of the trailer kind of matched the color of my truck. “Nice looking setup,” he said.

I thanked him and got on my way.

The Trip Home

The trip home went smoothly. The trailer towed like it was nothing — probably because it was empty. My truck, which had been giving me some engine cooling issues on the way to the Seattle side a few days before, didn’t give me any trouble at all on the way home. Although I was really hungry and wanted badly to stop for lunch, I motored through, stopping in George for fuel.

At home, I played my parking game. I dropped the trailer in my gravel driveway and backed the truck and camper onto the concrete apron. Then I used the front tow hitch on my Jeep to move the trailer into position beside my truck. Eventually, everything went into my cavernous garage. That’s where I’d prep the trailer and camper for my winter trip.

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you might recall that I bought a cargo trailer very much like this one in January. It was kind of beat up and I never really liked it for a variety of reasons so I sold it a month or two after getting home. I know I’m going to like this trailer a lot better, mostly because of how clean and new-looking it is. I hate buying old crap; this is not old crap. I’m looking forward to customizing it for my travels.

Two Jewelry Classes

I take the camper to Tacoma to learn more about making jewelry.

Note: I actually wrote this and much of the post after it about my new cargo trailer back in early October while I was still traveling. I can’t tell you how many blog posts I start writing and don’t finish. This one’s done. I’ll try to get the other one done this week, too.

Last September, I took a 3-day intensive beginner metalworking class at the Tacoma Metal Arts Center in Tacoma, WA. It was an amazing experience that really transformed the way I think of making jewelry. I learned a bunch of metal working skills and how to use new (to me) tools that would take me to the next level in my work: cutting, soldering, texturing, shaping, and polishing sheet metal using jeweler’s saws, shears, torches, flex shafts and attachments, dapping blocks and punches, rolling mills, texture plates, and burnishing tools. I left class with the basic tools I’d need to practice what I’d learned.

Getting Serious about Jewelry Making

Over the winter, I decided to get serious about making jewelry. I paid a contractor friend to frame in a 12 x 24 foot space in my absurdly large garage so we could make an insulated shop for me. That would give me a climate controlled space to work on jewelry projects. While I was in Arizona over the winter, I shopped for the tools and equipment I’d need to set up a full-blown annealing/soldering station and jeweler’s workbench. When I returned from Arizona, I ran the wiring in the new shop and my friend returned to put in the insulation and drywall while I fastened T1-11 paneling to the two outside walls facing into the garage. Then I painted the inside of the room and added some trim around the windows. I installed the two glass-paned doors last week with another friend. The room is large and bright from its two windows and four track light setups, with an 8-foot ceiling and 288 square feet of loft space above it that I’ll likely never use.

Durston Rolling Mill
Swanstrom Disc Cutter
Bench Shear
Some shop tools purchased from Rio Grande earlier this year: a Durston Agile 110 Rolling Mill, a Swanstrom Round Disc Cutter, and a Precision 12″ Bench Shear. (Catalog photos not to scale; the disc cutter is actually quite small.)

With the help of the folks at Rio Grande — my primary supplier of metals — I purchased a few rather costly quality tools: a Durston rolling mill, a Swanstrom disc cutter, and a PepeTools ring bender. I also acquired a set of dapping blocks/punches and a metal shear almost as good as a true guillotine style cutter. I moved my jeweler’s bench into my new space, putting it right beneath one window where I’d get plenty of natural light. I built a solid workbench for the corner where I bolted down the rolling mill. Then I moved in the rolling storage cabinets I’d been collecting for years, set up one as my soldering station, another as my rock storage and jewelry photography studio, and a third as storage for the display and packaging equipment I’d accumulated. Half the room is set up as a jewelry studio while the other half is my regular workshop with the big workbench I built several years ago, my tool chest, and the rolling cart I’d converted into a storage and charging area for my power tools. My table saw, miter saw, tile saw, and Cabking cab making machine remain in the garage, on the other side of the wall. (The room is big, but not that big.)

Now, in addition to the sterling silver and/or copper framed gemstone cabochon pendants I’ve been making for a while, I also make textured and etched silver and copper earrings, soldered silver and copper stack rings, hammered bangle bracelets, silver plated “spoon rings,” and novelty keychains. This gives me a full range of products to offer customers when I show and sell my jewelry. I make these items in my shop and make my cabochon pendants when I go to shows.

This summer, however, I realized that I was ready for more.

Classes at the Tacoma Metal Arts Center

The Tacoma Metal Arts Center (TMAC) offers a variety of jewelry classes. Although I wanted to take the three-day course again with a different instructor to polish my skills and learn things from a different person, the dates and times it was offered did not work with cherry season, which requires me to be at home every day for three months — roughly June through August. There were a few one-day classes in September and October that looked interesting, but I wasn’t interested in coming to Tacoma for just one day. And then I saw the two one-day classes offered on the weekend of October 12 and 13: Molten Magic and Possibilities of Precious Metal Clay.

Molten Magic’s description was as follows:

Ruth [the instructor] will show you how to cut a shape from copper sheet for your project, then you will cover it with texture through the molten magic of melted silver! The result is a wonderfully rich surface texture of ridges and waves. Then, you will learn how to apply an iridescent patina with a torch by flame painting the surface.

Possibilities of Precious Metal Clay was described as:

PMC (aka Precious Metal Clay). Create fine silver jewelry from a clay: this material works like earthen clay so it can be shaped and formed, textured and refined and then fired. The result is precious metal in pure silver. Once it is finished into silver you can polish it or apply a patina for that vintage look.

These two seemed perfect for me. I was interested in taking my sheet metal work to the next level and fusing silver and copper sounded very interesting. As for PMC, I had actually bought some of the stuff and a bunch of tools to work with it but because of its cost, I was hesitant to get started. This would give me the information I needed to try it with confidence — or realize that it wasn’t really for me.

I signed up and planned to spend the weekend, camping out in their back parking lot in my truck camper as I had done the year before. Not only would I save on overnight lodging, but I could bring Penny the Tiny Dog along.

Molten Magic

Although I’d been hoping to get to Tacoma the evening before Saturday’s class, a big project at home kept me busy until 4 PM. By the time I prepped the camper, it was 6 PM and sunset was less than 30 minutes away. I try hard not to drive in unfamiliar places at night, so I didn’t depart until 5:30 AM the next day. Of course, I still had to drive in the dark over Blewett Pass, which I seldom drive. It wasn’t light until I got to Snowqualmie Pass.

Mushrooms
To give you an idea of the variety of food items Metropolitan Market offers, he’s a shot of some of the mushrooms they had for sale that day.

Traffic was light and I got there early. So I kept driving and stopped at Metropolitan Market, a supermarket that is so posh it makes Whole Foods look like a Smart and Final. I parked in the lot, got out to visit the restroom and buy some snacks, and then took Penny for a walk down the adjoining residential street. Then it was back to the TMAC, where I drove into the alley behind the place and backed the truck into the narrow parking area, trying (and failing) to use up only half the width of the space. The back gate was locked (as I knew it would be), so I got Penny set up in the camper with food and water, locked it up, and walked around front to the main entrance.

I was the first student to arrive. I met the instructor and chatted with her for a while. She must have thought I was a nut, talking to her as if I’d known her for years. I do that. The second of four students arrived before the 10 AM start time. The third arrived loudly 20 minutes late, after class had already begun. The fourth never arrived.

The instructor, Ruth, did not have a very structured teaching style. It was all very casual. There would be no specific project. Instead, she told us about the techniques we’d be using, handed out sheets of copper and scraps of sterling silver, and encouraged us to practice on the copper scraps in a bin near the rolling mill. Then she took us back to the polishing and soldering stations and demonstrated how to clean off the metal with wheels on three bench grinders there and then use heat from a torch to oxidize the copper enough to get different colors and patterns. She showed us how to melt silver onto the copper, including how to somewhat control how the silver melted by using heat to guide it across the copper.

Then she let us go to it.

There were three soldering stations and three of us so it worked out well that the fourth person hadn’t shown up. We each played with the sample copper for a while. One of the scrap sheets I’d taken had been run through the rolling mill and had a pattern on it. I managed to get shades of orange and pink on it. Later, I’d turn it into a pair of twisted metal earrings suitable for sale. (Yes, I can make jewelry out of scrap metal.) My silver melting wasn’t quite as interesting. I couldn’t come up with a suitable shape, so I’d traced a plastic spoon. No matter how I looked at it, it looked like a spoon. And I didn’t like the way I melted the silver on it.

Meanwhile, my two companions were working on nice projects. I felt uninspired. And disappointed. You see, I had already played with “fire painting” copper so it wasn’t new to me. The only thing I’d learned was that you could polish off the color to start over — I normally used “pickle,” which is an acid that removes oxidization — and that it was possible to melt sterling silver with the same little butane torch I used to solder and anneal.

Ruth spent a few minutes showing us how we could create a chain for a pendant using sterling silver wire and jump rings that she provided. I liked the chain on the sample piece she’d brought along, but it had been created with 14 gauge wire and she’d give us thinner 16 gauge wire. I played around with it for a while but didn’t like what I was doing.

File Painted Pendant
Here’s the pendant I made in class. I finished it with a leather necklace and added a pair of matching earrings. They sold as a set on the first day I displayed them in my booth.

Then I got an idea for a pendant that would consist of three textured copper panels, each of which had silver wire melted on it. I’d join them together with jump rings. So I cut some of the copper sheet and went at it with two different hammers. Then I took some of the wire she’d given us to make a chain and made a zigzag pattern with it. I made tiny dots with more wire. I melted the wire to the copper without allowing the zigzags to get completely molten so they were fused onto the copper without losing their shape. I polished off the oxidation and then used the torch to apply just a tiny bit of color. I liked the result. I fetched some copper jump rings from my camper, colored them a bit with the torch, and put the whole thing together. Funky, but I liked it.

By this time, the day was pretty much over. Amy, the owner, came in to do some paperwork and she took photos of what we’d made. I felt that I made a respectable showing; everyone seemed to like the pendant and earrings. My companions had created more things than I had, but I didn’t mind. I had some ideas and that’s all I needed.

More at Metropolitan Market

After class, I went back to the camper — I’d checked on Penny at lunchtime — and put Penny on her leash. We walked the mile or so to Metropolitan Market. I parked Penny at the outside dog parking area where an Australian Shepherd was waiting for her human. I bought some things for dinner from their extensive prepared food area, remarking to the person behind the counter that if I lived nearby I’d be 300 pounds and flat broke.

Penny and I shared a gelato — I scooped some of mine out into the lid of the container for her — and walked back. Then we climbed into the truck and drove to a local U-Haul place that filled propane tanks. One of my tanks was completely empty and the other was only 1/4 full. I did not want to run out of gas overnight. That done, we returned to our parking spot and I backed all the way in so my back door was only a few feet from the back gate.

I heated my dinner in the camper’s oven — I wasn’t plugged into power and hadn’t brought along a generator so the microwave was useless — and worked on some earrings while I waited for it to finish heating. After dinner and another quick walk with Penny, I stretched out on my bed to read.

I slept well. During the night, I was treated to a rainstorm. The only thing I love more than hearing rain on my camper’s roof is hearing it on the metal roof of my home.

The Iliad and The Odyssey

I was up at 5:30 the next morning. I lounged in bed for a while, like I do at home, and then got up, threw on a pair of sweatpants, and made my coffee. I did a little web surfing at the table while I had my coffee. Before I knew it, it was 7:30. I made breakfast and ate it as Penny came down off the bed to let me know she was ready to go out.

I put the leash on her and we walked down the alley. There was a Bartell’s pharmacy about two blocks away and it looked like the kind of place that might have a refrigerator case. I really felt like having some orange juice. They had every sugar or alcohol drink in that case except real orange juice.

We crossed the road to a coffee shop. They didn’t have orange juice either. But they had a nice staff that let me bring Penny in so I bought a latte and caught up on Twitter at a table near the window while Penny ate a dog biscuit and a nearby dog watched her.

At one point, a young guy came over and complemented me on how well behaved my dog was. That got us into a conversation about dogs in public and how the owners really needed to keep them under control. I pointed to the other dog. “That’s a well-behaved dog,” I said.


This is the edition recommended by my friend.

I noticed that he was reading The Iliad and asked him if he was reading it for a class or if he was just reading it. He told me that he’d always wanted to read the classics and figured he’d start with the first one. (At that point, I found myself wishing he was about 20 to 30 years older and single — I felt the same way about reading the classics but needed a bit more motivation to actually do it.) I had recently explored reading a specific translation of The Odyssey that a friend had recommended. I told him about it and looked up the translator’s name for him. He said that was next on his list and he’d look for that version. I think he really will.

Possibilities of Precious Metal Clay

By that time, it was 9:45 and I was running the risk of being late for class. So Penny and I hurried back. I put her in the camper and went into class. I arrived at about the same time as one of the previous day’s students, Ellen. Two other students joined us. Again, there was a no-show.

This instructor, Meredith, had a more structured approach — but not much more. She spent some time talking about PMC — what it is, how it works, etc. She sent around examples of her own work — some of it with problems she pointed out as examples of what can go wrong. She handed out 9 gram packets of PMC3, bunches of 10 standard playing cards (which are used to gauge thickness for rolling), tiny pieces of plastic needlepoint grid (for a simple texture, a small sheet of foam (for creating our own textures), and long pins with masking tape flags on the end (for cutting clay). She seemed a bit disorganized; she’d forgotten to bring along work surfaces for us. Instead, we’d be rolling out the clay on the same teflon surfaces we’d use to dry it on. All the other tools were laid out in piles on unused benches and workspaces.

And then she let us go to it, again, without a specific project.

I guess wanting a specific thing to make is something that affected me more than my companions. I suspect that it’s because I’m pretty new to art — so new that I usually don’t provide a straight answer when people ask me how long I’ve been making jewelry.

Although I’m a visual person when it comes to learning, I’m not visually creative. (My creativity has always come with words; I have always been a writer.) Show me how to make something specific using a set group of techniques or skills and I’ll make it. Then, as I make it over and over, the creativity comes out. You can see that in my silver framed jewelry. Dorothy taught me how to make a pendant in her style using her materials and tools. The more pendants I make, the more my materials, tools, and final products differ from hers. I look at a stone and I think about how I could make an interesting pendant from it. The idea clicks and I make something creative and new. But when it all comes down to it, I’m just doing the same thing over and over, with minor twists that make something new.

Although Ruth had provided a project idea — the sample pendant she’d made for the course description — I hadn’t been interested in duplicating that. And Meredith did provide many examples of what we could do with PMC, but there were too many. I guess I was expecting her to walk us through the process of creating some of these things rather than giving us an overview of how to make them and then answering questions to help us complete our own personal products.

My problem was that I lacked ideas.

I made two textured pieces that could be earrings or charms. It took only minutes to do, even with the custom texture I created in the foam I’d been provided. I was interested in creating a bead and had picked out a small piece of cork clay to form a bead around. I had a few false starts — you have to surround the cork with clay before applying a texture (duh). My mistake was choosing such a small piece of cork; it meant that I was working with a very tiny object. But the damn clay is so expensive that I can’t imagine using it to make anything large. And we’d only been provided with 9 grams of the stuff so I was afraid to use too much right from the start.

Around lunchtime, Meredith set out a timeline for the rest of the class. All of the pieces had to be fired for about 45 minutes in a kiln. It took 30 minutes to ramp up the kiln to 1470°F. After that, we’d have to brush, tumble, and burnish our pieces, which would take at least another 15-30 minutes. With the class ending at 4 PM, that meant we’d need to get everything in the kiln by 2:30 at the latest.

I decided to use the rest of my clay to make a rectangular pendant with shapes adhered to it. This would enable me to practice “gluing” pieces together. What I made was ugly, but it did let me practice techniques. I worked and fine-tuned my pieces until 2:15 and laid them all out on the heating pad with the others to dry.

Compared to everyone else’s work, mine was pitiful. I didn’t even take a photo of them.

Meredith loaded the main kiln, which she’d brought along with her, and, while the kiln was coming up to temperature, talked to us a little about kilns. She’d brought along a smaller kiln designed for enameling that also worked with PNC and wound up firing that up for a few more pieces. Then we waited, asking questions and looking at more examples.

Finally, it was done. Meredith opened the kiln shortly after it was finished firing, opening and closing the door at short intervals to cool it slowly. She pulled out and quenched our pieces in a bowl of water. As I expected, they were all covered with a white film. She had us brush them off with a brass brush that put scratches in my pieces. I was pleased to see that none of them had any problems, although none of them had gotten any nicer.

Then she prepped the tumbler and dropped all of our pieces in. We cleaned up our workspaces while we waited. The owner, Amy, had come in and we shopped. TMAC is an excellent source of jewelry making tools and equipment at reasonable prices. I bought a small hand drill and two silver hallmarking stamps (.925 and .999FS).

Out of the tumbler, my pieces still had a lot of white residue on them. Meredith told us to burnish them with steel. I found a suitable tool and went to work on one of the pieces. The silver shine popped out. So now it was ugly and shiny.

Of course, I’m half joking here. Although my work wasn’t anything to be proud of, I had learned quite a bit about working with PMC and am no longer afraid to play with the 30 grams I bought earlier this year. I’m hoping to get my tiny desktop kiln running again; it’s the perfect size for this kind of work.

I just need some ideas.

After Class

Although I’d originally planned to spend the night in Tacoma, it was early enough to get a start for my next destination: Yakima. I needed to pick up a cargo trailer that I’d be converting into a mobile jewelry studio.

But I think you’ve read enough here. I’ll cover that in another blog post.

A Helicopter Trip to the Anacortes Boat & Yacht Show, Part 2

I fly to my helicopter to the boat show in Anacortes, see a bunch of boats, get tempting special show pricing, and fly home.

(Continued from previous post)

My goal was to be in the air by 8 AM so I’d arrive at Anacortes Airport with plenty of time to get to the Boat Show when it opened. I assumed it would take me all day to see the boats that interested me and was worried that exhibitors would start packing up early since it was the last day of the show.

Weather Woes

But the weather did not cooperate. Overnight, the local forecast had changed. Now it wasn’t expected to clear up until after 11 AM. I don’t need clear skies to fly, but I do need ceilings (cloud bottom heights) above the pass where I expected to cross the Cascades. As I went about my morning routine, the clouds seemed to drop in the west and rain began.

Rain to the West
The view from my deck at 6:34 AM. My route would take me right through the middle of this photo.

I continued my morning routine, but without the same sense of urgency. I showered and dressed in clean jeans and a shirt that suggested it wasn’t out of the question that I might spend nearly a quarter million dollars on a boat. Then Penny and I headed down to Pybus Market, where I’d left my tables and display stuff. I was supposed to be selling my jewelry there that day and had already paid for my spot. But with sales so bad the previous day, I didn’t have high hopes for a good day and didn’t mind eating the fee to do something more interesting with my time. I packed everything up and loaded it into the back of my truck.

Back at the helicopter, I took my time setting up my GoPro, preflighting, adding oil, and settling Penny in the front passenger seat. The rain had passed and it was clearing a little. I used a microfiber cloth to dry the helicopter, which also took any dust off. By the time I was ready to head over to the airport for fuel, it was nearly 10 AM. The weather still looked iffy.

My friend Rich, who bought my friend Jim’s old R44 Raven I, was doing pattern work when I radioed my approach. He landed beside me as the fuel guys were topping off my tanks. I told him where I was headed and that I hoped to get over the ridge at the headwaters of Icicle Creek. I’d discovered on a flight to Lopez Island years ago that that particular ridge is adjacent to Stevens Pass on a more direct line from Wenatchee. If the ridge was clear of clouds and I could cross it, there was a good chance that I could drop into the valley beyond and follow Route 2 due west toward the coast. We chatted about other things and then parted company.

It was just after 10 when I did my walkaround, climbed back on board with Penny, and got my GoPro running. Mounted via suction cup over the front passenger seat, it was connected to a battery power pack and the helicopter’s intercom system. It would shoot continuous video as well as a still image every 60 seconds.

Leaving Pangborn
Here’s the GoPro’s view just before departure from Pangborn Memorial Airport. As you can see, the weather does not look promising.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I took off, heading northwest.

The Flight to Anacortes

One of the benefits of flying a helicopter is that there is no minimum airspeed. This makes it extremely suitable for flying in conditions where it might be necessary to slow down or make a very tight 180° turn. As I flew northwest toward the mouth of the canyon at Icicle Creek near Leavenworth, I was mentally prepared to make a turn if low clouds obscured the mountains and made it impossible for me to cross the mountains.

And it sure looked like it would be necessary as I got closer and closer to the ridge. The clouds were sitting atop the Enchantments — that’s the mountains just west of Leavenworth. I was in a relatively narrow canyon with the creek below me and cloud covered mountains on either side. If I couldn’t go forward, I’d have to stop, turn around, and go back.

Of course, you can’t see the end of the canyon from halfway down it. So although it looked very bad at one point, when I rounded a bend, it didn’t look so bad after all. Then bad, round a bend, and not bad. I was at least 1,000 feet off the creek and climbing with the terrain. I never reached the level of the clouds.

Icicle Creek Canyon
This is one of the points where it looked iffy. But when I rounded that bend, it looked much better.

Then the ground came up to a ridge with plenty of space between the treetops and the cloud bottoms. I steered over it and saw Route 2 winding down the west side of Stevens Pass. Just like that, I was over the Cascades. I didn’t even have to slow down.

Crossing the Ridge Crossing the Ridge
These photos, taken 1 minute apart, show me approaching the ridge at the headwaters of Icicle Creek (left)and then topping the ridge where I can see Route 2 coming down the west side of Stevens Pass (right).

I descended down into the valley and followed Route 2 almost due west to Skykomish, then headed northwest toward Anacortes. The canyon opened up and the terrain dropped around me to mere hills. I flew along at a cruise speed between 100 and 110 knots, over creeks and marshes and forests, past logged terrain and waterfalls and quarries. The wind was still calm and the ride was smooth. Penny occasionally stirred in her seat or sat up as if to ask “Are we there yet?”

Over Logged Terrain
I crossed over a lot of wooded, hilly, and logged terrain between Skykomish and the coast.

I tuned into various nearby airport frequencies as I flew. I got close enough to Arlington and Skagit to make radio calls, but didn’t fly over either one.

Eventually, I left the mountains and hillsides behind, crossed I-5, and flew over the flat farmland along the shoreline. As I flew over various waterways, I wondered whether a boat with a 30-inch draft could navigate them. (Yeah, my boat lust had gotten that bad.)

Flying Near the Coast
This was shot somewhere west of Mount Vernon.

Then I was over Fidalgo Island, climbing over one last hill before looking for the airport. I found it very close to the hillside and came in for a landing on the parallel taxiway. I set down in an airplane parking spot near the fuel island, wondering whether the hose would be long enough to reach me where I was parked. I didn’t see a fuel truck.

Landing At Anacortes
Making the turn for landing at Anacortes.

I shut everything down and let Penny out while I gathered everything I’d need for the day. Then, after a quick bathroom visit in the Pilot Lounge, I used Uber to call for a ride. We were on our way to the Marina five minutes later.

At the Boat Show

If you haven’t read the first post in this two-post series, you probably should before continuing. It explains why I wanted to go to the boat show in the first place and the kinds of boats I’m interested in.

Andrew at Ranger Tugs had put tickets aside for me at the Will Call office, so that where I started. The event isn’t expensive — only $10/person — but I think they charge a fee to discourage low-budget lookie Lous. Let’s face it: the Anacortes Boat & Yacht Show has the word “yacht” in it for a reason. The majority of boats on display were far beyond the means of 99% of the people who attended.

BoatShow1
A look to the right from the ramp leading down to the boats for sale.

Boat Show 2
A look to the left at the boats for sale.

I didn’t waste my time looking at boats I couldn’t afford, although I do admit looking at a few that didn’t quite fit my needs. In most cases, the problem was towing: I needed a boat I could easily tow from home to anywhere I wanted to launch it, whether that was 12 miles from home at the boat ramp behind Pybus Market or 1200 miles from home in Arizona’s Lake Pleasant. That meant it could be no wider than 8-1/2 feet, which is the legal limit for normal trailer loads. Wider than that and I’d need a special permit to tow it and would have to get Wide Load signage and possibly a pilot car. The Cutwater boats seemed to fall into this category. Other boats were lacking in the livability department and wouldn’t be comfortable for more than a few days. Some were inboard motors and I preferred an outboard. None of them had the finely honed feature set the R-27 Ranger Tug I lusted for had.

I should mention here that “looking” at a boat didn’t mean looking at it from the dock. It meant climbing on board, and looking from the stern of a boat. All the boats had ramps leading to them so it was an easy deal. In most cases I either left Penny tied up on the dock or I picked her up and brought her on board. Although it would have been quite a treat to explore the giant yachts parked here and there along the dock, there was no reason to make me want something I couldn’t afford. It was best to stick to the program and let the lookie Lous have their fun without me.

I spoke to a sales guy at the Ranger Tugs area where their five models — R-23, R-27, R29, R31, and R41 — were parked. He gave me a sales spiel that included favorable pricing on the R-27 parked there. Prices go up by $10K in July for the 2020 model year, he warned. This was the last boat off the line for the 2019 model year. I checked out the smaller R-22, which I think would be too small for me. I asked questions about the windlass — cruising on the David B had convinced me that I would be unable to pull up an anchor, especially if it had 50 feet of chain and another 100 feet of rode set out. Andrew walked up and I chatted with him about it. He gave me even better pricing. We talked about desalination and dingy storage.

Later, I walked around the marina to look at some used boats on the far end. There was a 2016 Ranger Tug for sale there at the same price as the deal Andrew offered. Jeez. Was it wishful thinking on the part of the owner/broker or did the boats really hold their value that much? Why would anyone buy a used 2016 model when a brand new 2019 model, with all its improvements, from the factory could be had for the same price?

Penny and I left the docks and walked up to where other exhibitors were gathered inside a big tent or outside under smaller canopies. I got into a conversation with a boat broker about her upcoming trip to Ketchikan on her 41 foot Nordic Tug and my recent one on the David B. Her husband joined us and we talked about financing, which I hadn’t even considered. Even though they knew I wasn’t going to buy a boat from them, they were every helpful. And they seemed impressed that I was considering an R-27; the woman said it was an excellent option for me.

I looked on as a sales guy explained a desalination system to a couple. The system was very large and convoluted — not to mention expensive — and I wandered off.

I chatted with two sales guys about a Zodiac boat to use as a tender for an R-27. Andrew had recommended them because they’re relatively light weight. Apparently they come in sizes as small as 6 feet (inside length), although they said the next size up might be better for me. One guy even described how he gets his Zodiac out of the water and stowed on his boat by himself. They seemed confident that I could handle it alone.

I had wanted to look at Bayliners — Captain Jeffrey on the David B mentioned that they had models similar to the tugs I liked — but they were not at the marina. They were in a boatyard who knows where. This morning, as I started researching links for this blog post series, I looked them up. Although they may have had boats like a tug in the past, their current lineup did not include anything remotely similar. So I’m glad I didn’t track them down. It likely would have been a waste of time.

Since I hadn’t had a thing to eat all day, I decided to have lunch before heading out. Fortunately, between the marina entrance and Anthony’s Restaurant, there was a casual dining place called the Cabana. Penny and I walked right through and I got a seat on an Adirondack style chair in the shade of an umbrella — did I mention that the weather was sunny and warm? — overlooking an unused bocce court and the marina. A short while later, I was digging into a blackened rock fish taco while Penny was stretched out in the sun for a nap.

I had a lot to think about. Too much. It was strange to me, almost as if the stars and planets were aligning for me to buy this boat. There’s no doubt that I loved it and that it met all of my needs and most of my desires. (I’ll be honest a much larger boat that came with a bunch of guys to move it around for me would be a lot more attractive but definitely not in my budget.) I knew that I’d be happy with it, perhaps for a very long time. Who knows? It — or something a lot like it — could be my next home.

But I won’t kid you: there are financial hurdles to jump. Selling the helicopter would make the boat easily affordable without any financing, but was I ready to retire from flying? Could I get a seasonal job flying for someone else? Did I really want to sell the helicopter? I’d been an owner for nearly 20 years and I honestly couldn’t imagine life without one.

But could I have both? Did I want the financial burden that came with owning both? The answer to that is no.

Meanwhile, as I sat in the shade at the Cabana, I realized that clouds were building in the mountains to the east. Was I going to have trouble getting home? Time to find out.

The Flight Home

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Getting an Uber back to the airport wasn’t quite as quick as I’d hoped. The closest car was 25 minutes away. I tried Lyft, but they didn’t have anyone at all. So I parked myself on a bench near the entrance to the show and waited. Penny found shade under the bench and took another nap.

Back at the helicopter, I decided I had enough fuel to get me home with required reserves. So I just started up — with some trouble, which will be covered in a future post — and took off.

Departing Anacortes
Flying down the west side of Fildalgo Island.

Mountain Obscuration
The clouds were low as I approached the canyon where Route 2 wound up toward Stevens Pass.

The conditions started off nice — after all, it was a really great day out near the San Juan Islands — and then got very iffy. The cloud level in the foothills to the Cascades had definitely dropped since I’d come through that morning. Some of the cloud tops were obscured. A gusty wind was blowing out of the south, setting me up for mechanical turbulence — turbulence caused by the motion of wind over landforms. It began raining lightly.

For a while, I was worried about the flight. Because I hadn’t taken on more fuel at Anacortes, I didn’t have enough on board to do detour around weather looking for a clear passage to the other side. (Yes, I did have enough to get home with required reserves.) That meant that if I hit a dead end on my course, I’d have to go back, probably to Arlington, to get more fuel before trying again. Conditions were likely to get worse before they got better, so going back might even mean spending the night, which I really didn’t want to do.

(They say that the only time you have too much fuel on board is when you’re on fire. It’s always better to have more fuel on board than you need — unless it puts the aircraft weight over limitations. It gives you more flexibility.)

As for the weather, now you can see why I fly to the Seattle side of the mountains so seldom.

Once I got to Skykomish again, however, the rain stopped and the clouds lifted a bit. I was even sheltered from that gusty wind. I reached the ridge near Stevens Pass, climbed up, and hopped over it, down into the Icicle Creek Canyon where it was a beautiful day full of sun and big fluffy clouds.

IcicleCreekCanyon
It was a typically beautiful day on the east side of the mountains as I flew down Icicle Creek.

The rest of the flight was great and I even took a moment to record a little in-flight lecture about what it’s like to be a helicopter pilot and owner. I recently discovered that has far more subscribers than I thought and I’m now motivated to add new content there regularly.

I was back at my base by 5 PM. I spent the rest of the day gardening and doing chores around the house.

If I had driven, I’d be starting my return trip around 6 get back in the dark.

A Helicopter Trip to the Anacortes Boat & Yacht Show, Part 1

The backstory on why I flew my helicopter out to Anacortes on Sunday.

Those of you who know me well in person, by reading between the lines on this blog, or by following me on Twitter, have probably come to realize that I have been lusting for a boat for the past few years.

Boating with my friend Jim
Here I am boating with my friend Jim on the Columbia River back in 2012.

Yes, I know that I already have a boat — a little 1995 Sea Ray Sea Rayder F-16 that I bought back in 2011 for about $2,000, including the trailer — but although it’s a nice little toy to get me out on the water, it just doesn’t meet the needs of someone with a yen for exploring new waterways on extended length trips. Someone who has always wanted to live on the water but can’t decide exactly where that might be.

What Planted the Seed — and How It Grew in my Brain

I got this desire for a more substantial boat after a few outings with an (ex)friend at Lopez Island. He’d bought a 22-foot C-Dory Cruiser, which is an ocean worthy power boat in a sort of tugboat style. I loved the bright roominess of the cabin and the features, which included a usable galley (kitchen) and sleeping area. It was lacking one thing I needed in a boat: a head (toilet). But I poked around a bit and discovered that the C-Dory made a larger boat, the 25 foot Cruiser, which had everything I needed. I started thinking about that.

After a while, I started exploring other options — heck, even when I dream about something big like this, I do some research. I knew I wanted an ocean worthy boat that could be towed and stored in my big garage when I wasn’t using it. I knew I wanted the tug style, which had lots of big windows and stand-up cabin space throughout. I knew I needed a decent sized galley and a head, as well as full-time sleeping space. That weeded out a lot of possibilities.

Possible brand names included C-Dory, Nordic Tug, Cutwater, and Ranger Tugs. I eventually zeroed in on the 27′ Ranger Tug — specifically, the 2018 or later model. Not only did it meet all of my criteria, but it was fully loaded with all of the features I needed and wanted, from the Garmin navigation system with autopilot to the solar panels and inverter system.

Trying to Get Over It

R-27 Ranger Tug
Photo of the 2018 (or later) R-27 Ranger Tug from Ranger Tug’s website.

As time went on, I lusted after this boat. I carried photos of it from the Ranger Tugs website on my phone. I thought about it when I was camping out in the desert or driving/flying past a waterway. I figured I’d better do something to get it off of my mind.

My first step was to see the boat in person. So far, all I’d seen were photos and videos online. I kind of hoped that seeing it in person would disappoint me and get it off my mind.

So I made an appointment with the General Manager of Ranger Tugs in Kent, WA, where the R-27 model is made. I had to take my helicopter to Hillsboro, OR and fly back through Seattle, so I scheduled my return flights with a long layover in Seattle and took a Lyft to the boat factory. It was very nondescript and certainly didn’t look as if they built $200K boats inside. I met with Andrew and boarded one of the two boats being built in a metal building behind their offices.

It was amazing. Better than the website. Shit. Now I really wanted one.

R-27 Interior
The interior of the 2018 R-27 Ranger Tug. If you took a comfortable little RV and stuck it into a boat, this is what you’d get.

The next step had already been set up. Last fall, I’d booked a 12-day “Learn to Cruise the Canadian Inside Passage to Alaska” cruise with Northwest Navigation on a small ship called the David B. I figured it would be a good way to learn new skills — marine navigation — and experience a long trip on a relatively small boat. (The David B is 65 feet.) So only a week after I visited the Ranger Tug factory, I was one of just four passengers on a 12 day trip that might be very similar to one I’d be able to do in the boat I lusted after. I hoped I wouldn’t like it.


Shot of the David B at its slip in Bellingham. I need to blog at least a little about that trip.

Of course, I loved it. How could I not? Exploring sheltered, glacier-carved channels along the coast of Canada? Enjoying the solitude of secluded anchorages where the only sound comes from birds or waterfalls? Getting daily sightings of wildlife that included bears, eagles, seals, porpoises, dolphins, whales, and countless water birds? Navigating from point to point with the challenges of tidal currents in narrow passageways? Jeez! I could spend a lifetime doing that.

I’m not saying the trip was perfect. There were a few times we had to cross open water that was a bit rough and my landlubber head and stomach weren’t happy. (As I told Captain Jeffrey and Co-Captain/Cook Christine, my wasband, who would have really enjoyed the trip, would have been puking his brains out.) But even the weather cooperated with very few overcast or rainy days. (Whodathunkit?) As for the open water crossings, the David B chugged along at 5-7 knots; the boat I had in mind was capable of planing and could cruise a lot faster. So even though I wouldn’t take rough water at high speed, I could probably comfortably cruise at double the David B’s speed and cut the crossing times in half.

I also learned a ton about marine navigation and cruising — everything from reading details in charts to how much chain/rode (anchor rope) to set when anchoring. It filled me with new questions to ask Andrew at Ranger Tugs.

I also got advice from Captain Jeffrey: check out other boats. There might be one you like better that might even be less expensive. He was right, of course. I needed to do more homework.

Planning a Trip to the Boat Show

I was still on the David B when the invitation to the Anacortes Boat & Yacht Show arrived via email from Andrew. Seemed like a perfect opportunity to see a lot of boats at once.

The trouble was, it was in Anacortes and I live in Malaga. It’s a 3-3/4 hour drive. Each way.

It was a four-day show: Thursday through Sunday. I was helping my neighbors at Malaga Springs Winery bottle wine on Friday. I was supposed to be at Pybus Public Market selling jewelry on Saturday and Sunday. I had done very well at Pybus the previous weekend and was looking forward to a repeat performance. That left Thursday.

But did I really want to drive a total of nearly 8 hours in one day just to see some boats? Maybe in my S2000 with the top down. But there was rain in the forecast for Anacortes, so not only would I be driving in the rain, but I’d probably be walking around the boats in the rain. It wasn’t very appealing.

Thursday came and went; I did things at home. I bottled wine on Friday. I went to Pybus on Saturday — and had a crappy sales day.

I’d started looking at the forecast for Sunday. Earlier in the week, it had been bad, with clouds and rain on both sides of the mountains. But as time went on, the forecast changed. By Saturday evening, it looked like Sunday would be a good day.

Good enough to take the helicopter over. Instead of a dull 3-3/4 hour drive, I could have a 1-1/4 hour flight.

So I whipped out ForeFlight on my iPad, created a flight plan, got a weather briefing, and filed my plan for the next day.

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Snowbirding 2019: At the “Old Fogey Hot Springs”

I make a short visit to a favorite hot spring and meet up with a friend.

Note: I started this post back in March and just finished it today. My blog has been having permalink issues that made it difficult to keep it up to date. I think the problems are mostly resolved; I hope to catch up a bit and share a bunch of new content.

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

One of my favorite snowbirding destinations is a hot springs right off I-8 near Holtville, CA. On BLM land and maintained by the government, it’s a pair of concrete tubs beside a palm-lined pond that are all fed from a tapped natural hot spring. Although I’ve always known this place as Holtville Hot Spring, some nasty asshole has apparently renamed it on Google Maps as “Old Fogey Hot Springs,” apparently referencing the fact that most people at the spring are retirees camped out in the long term camping area across the street.

I was supposed to meet my friend Janet, who was showing and selling her artwork at a weekend show in Casa Grande, AZ, on Monday. We’d planned to do some hiking out at Borrego Springs, CA before she attended an art show there. (Sadly, although I applied I didn’t get in; too much jewelry already.) Since Casa Grande is on I-8 and the hot spring is on the way to Borrego Springs, it made sense to meet up there. I figured I’d get there a day early to enjoy the hot spring a few times before Janet arrived.

So that’s where I headed after leaving .

The Drive

I stopped in Blythe (or Blight, as we often call it) for groceries on the way, then let Google Maps guide me along mostly back roads south and west. I drove through mile after mile of farmland before leaving that behind and entering unirrigated desert with sparse vegetation and many hills.

There was little traffic going in my direction on the way — at least for a while. There were many RVs — mostly toy haulers passing me going north. That all changed when I approached Glamis.

is the site of an enormous sand dunes area that stretches northwest to southeast from Tortuga, CA to over the U.S. border with Mexico at Los Algodones. The road I was on, state route 78, cut right across it at Glamis. That’s where all the toy haulers were coming from. Glamis is a playground for dune buggies, sand rails, and other four-wheel-drive vehicles. From that point on, I was driving with departing off-roaders, who were calling it quits early on a Sunday and taking their toys home.

After crossing the dunes, I descended down out of the desert and into the irrigated farmland of the Imperial Valley. Google directed me on a zig-zag path through the farmland to my destination: the Holtville Hot Springs just off of I-8.

“Old Fogey” My Ass

Holtville Hot Springs Map
I’d like to kick the guy who changed the name of the hot springs on Google Maps. I’ve been trying to change it back ever since.

The Holtville Hot Spring is adjacent to the (LTRA). This is a kind of special BLM camping area where you’re allowed to stay more than the usual 14 days — if you pay a fee. The previous year, I’d paid the fee with the idea of staying there for a while and then moving over to another LTRA near a lake in Arizona. But worries about electrical issues (which turned out to be non-issues) on my camper sent me to Quartzsite in search of repairs instead. So I’d only spent a few days there.

This was actually my third visit to the hot spring, which I’d learned about from another seasonal camper somewhere back in the winter of 2016/17.

The spring has two tubs — one large and deep and the other small and shallow — a weird shower head to rinse off before getting in, and a hose you can use to fill jugs with “clean” spring water. It’s cleaned once a week by the BLM (I believe) who drain the tubs, power wash them, add bromine (a spa chemical), and allow them to refill from the source. Access is free, dogs and glass containers are not allowed, and I think it closes at night but reopens very early. I’ve never seen it closed. It’s adjacent to a beautiful palm ringed pond where water birds can be seen swimming. I shared a photo of that back in 2017 in a postcards post.

The jerk who added the springs to Google Maps with the name “Old Fogey Hot Springs” was likely motivated by the simple fact that the vast majority of hot springs users are retirees who are living seasonally at the LTVA across the road. So yes, there are a lot of older folk in the tubs. But I’ve seen people of all ages there, including kids.

A Couple of Soaks

I parked alongside the road near the hots springs parking lot. It was midday and the outside temperature was in the low 60s. I put Penny on her leash and walked her down to the area to take a look. There were about a dozen people in and around the tubs — about my limit for a crowd. I went back to the camper, put on my bathing suit, grabbed my towel and went back. A while later, with Penny tied up at the other side of the fence, I was soaking in the big tub, standing with water right up to my chin.

The temperature of the water in the big tub can be pretty hot. I’m guessing at least 105°F. It’s common for people to soak for a while, then get out and sit at the edge of the tub or on one of the block stools nearby. That’s what I did. Then another hot soak. Then I decided to give the smaller tub, which is fed from the large one and is usually much cooler, a try. In that one, I sat on the bottom to get the water halfway up my chest. It’s a lot shallower.

While I was there, I chatted with the folks around me. I’ve come to realize that the best way to learn about new destinations is to talk to other travelers. While I was in the small tub, I chatted with a woman who was staying in the LTVA area with her husband in a small motorhome. They were full-timers — people who don’t have a regular home and travel all the time. They spend half the year on the road in the motorhome and half the year on their 47-foot sailboat, which is moored at San Diego. We got to talking about my upcoming cruise up the inside passage from Bellingham, WA to Ketchikan, AK and the boat I’m thinking of buying when I sell my helicopter.

Eventually, she asked what I considered an odd question: “Is your husband as adventurous as you are?” It never ceases to amaze me that people assume I’m traveling with a spouse even though I don’t wear a wedding ring. “No,” I told her. “One of the reasons my husband is my ex-husband is because he isn’t adventurous at all. In fact, I’ll bet that at this very moment he’s sitting on a sofa somewhere watching television.” We both had a good laugh about that and then she started telling me about how great cruising the inside passage in a small boat is.

After a while, I’d had enough soaking. I rinsed off at the funky shower, wrapped my towel around me, and headed back to my camper with Penny. I dried off, had some lunch, and spent some time catching up on email and other tablet things. Then I took a short nap.

At about 4:30 PM, the parking lot looked pretty empty. I figured I’d go for another soak. I wrapped my damp towel around my bathing suited body and walked down with Penny, parking her outside the fence on her leash again. I’d obviously underestimated the crowd, most of whom probably walked over from the LTVA. Although there weren’t many people, a lot of those people were kids.

I soaked in the big tub. I got into a conversation with the man who was there with his wife and three kids. They were full-timers — they lived on the road in a bumper-pull trailer and home schooled their kids. Then I got into a conversation with a man who happened to be a pilot. He turned out to be the husband of the woman I’d chatted with earlier in the day. We talked about flying and why he stopped: his twin engine plane burned 25 gallons per hour of fuel. Ouch.

After about an hour, I’d had enough soaking. I showered off again, wrapped the towel around me, and headed back to the camper with Penny.

First Night Campsite

I knew the area pretty well. I knew that if I camped north of the road, I’d have to pay for a long term spot, even if I just stayed a day or two. If I camped south of the road within about a half mile of the hot spring, the story was the same. But if I went beyond that half mile, I’d be out of the LTVA and I could camp for free for up to 14 days.

I had already scouted out the area on Google Maps satellite view. I realized that if I followed a canal road south and turned at a certain place, I would probably find a decent site for the night. I wasn’t picky. All I wanted was a place to park that was easy to get in and out of and wasn’t close to anyone likely to run a generator.

Google Maps got me there. I made the turn and found the spot I’d seen in satellite view empty. It was good enough for me, despite the fact that there was a motorhome parked a few hundred yards away. I pulled in and killed the engine, then climbed back into the camper to put on some dry clothes and start thinking about dinner.

The spot turned out to be so quiet that all I could hear was the occasional bee flying by and my tinnitus.

I enjoyed a great Internet connection that evening for the first time in a while. I also slept great. I think the hot springs really sucks a lot of energy out of me.

In the morning, after breakfast, Penny and I went for a walk. That’s when I found a better campsite about a half mile farther down the road. I thought it would make a good site for that night when my friend Janet would be joining us in her camper.

Movie Matinee

After the walk, we left the camping area and headed west on I-8. My destination was a movie theater in a mall in El Centro where I planned to see Captain Marvel. Oddly, I’d been to that theater the previous year, although I can’t remember what I saw.

I left Penny locked up in the camper where she had food, water, and her bed.

The 9:40 AM matinee cost just $5 and there were only eight of us in the theater — just three days after this record-breaking movie was released. My popcorn cost more than the movie ticket.

And it was a good movie, although I can’t understand how a superhero can be that powerful.

I made a few other stops in the area: Michael’s, a craft supply store, where I picked up a texture plate for the precious metal clay work I plan to do when I get home, and Best Buy, where I picked up a 4-port 12 volt USB recharger for my truck or camper. I was tired of dealing with 1 amp rechargers; this one had four 2 amp rechargers so I could charge four devices at once.

Trailer Trouble

Getting Penny out of the trailer, I accidentally knocked the crank handle on my trailer jack. Just my luck: the handle fell off.

I picked up the handle and the screw that secured it. The nut was nowhere in sight. I couldn’t see how to fix it then and there so I just stowed it in the truck. I’d deal with it later in the day.

The trailer had other ideas. I was about 200 feet short of my parking spot back in front of the hot spring when I went over a bump and the hitch jack leg dropped and started dragging. I stopped in the middle of the road to check it out and realized immediately what was happening. Shit.

I managed to pull the hitch jack leg up enough to continue driving and secured it with a bungee cord. Then I eased into my parking spot.

The jack leg was bent and could no longer be cranked back into its sleeve, even if I was able to secure the handle. This meant two things: (1) I’d have to remove the jack since I couldn’t drive on the highway with the leg only inches from the ground and (2) I would not be able to unhitch the trailer from my truck until the jack was replaced.

Okay.

I put Penny on a leash and let her stretch out in the sun. Then I got out my toolbox. Miraculously, I had all the tools I needed to remove the hitch jack. It took about 45 minutes, mostly because one of the three bolts was tough to get out. I tossed the jack into the back of my truck.

That done, I had lunch.

Another Soak

I changed back into my bathing suit, grabbed a towel, and walked down to the tubs. I tied Penny up to the outside of the fence, as I’d done quite a few times before, and went in. After a shower under that funky shower head, I was back in the hot tub, soaking with a few other people.

More conversation, although at this point I can’t remember what it was about. (I’m finishing this blog post two months after the fact. Oops.) I do recall that the hotter tub was super hot and I’d decided to soak in the smaller tub, which was cooler but not crowded. A while later, Janet walked up in a bathing suit and towel, went through the shower ritual, and joined us in the tubs.

I think we soaked for another 30 minutes or so. By that time, it was late afternoon. Janet had spent the day packing up from her show in Casa Grande and driving in on-again, off-again rain. We were both ready to find a campsite for the night.

Another Night, Another Campsite

Janet followed me back down the canal road to the spot I’d observed that morning on my walk. After some discussion, we decided that I’d back in and she’d nose in. That accomplished, we went about setting up camp and making dinner. She put out her awning, which turned out to be a good thing because it started raining.

We called it a night early; we had a relatively long drive ahead of us the next day and were hoping to get another soak in the tubs before we left the area.

Cleaning Day

We had a nice walk along the canal in the morning. Janet really wanted to cast a line into it — she loves to fish — but she didn’t have a California fishing license.

As I suspected, the soak was not going to happen. Tuesday is cleaning day. Although we arrived back at the tubs after the BLM cleaning guy had done his thing, the big tub was only half filled. There were a few people soaking in it anyway. My first year out there, I’d been one of those people and had walked around with the stench of bromine or chlorine all day. We could smell it in the air. Neither of us were interested in soaking in chemicals.

So we left.

I led the way out of town, following Google’s directions to an RV supply shop in Brawley. I still needed a jack for my trailer. Once I had that on board, Janet took the lead. I’d follow her through empty dessert into the Anzo-Borrego State Park, where a superbloom was in progress.

More on that in another blog post. Maybe.