Tag Archives: travel

Snowbirding 2022: At the BLM Holtville Hot Springs

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Another video blog entry from my trip.

I’ll let the video say it all. Here it is, followed by the script I was so obviously reading. (Sorry! I’ll work on eye contact.)

Greetings! Maria here with Lily and Rosie the dogs and Turtleback 2, my trusty truck camper, reporting in from the BLM Holtville Hot Springs near Holtville, California.

We got here nearly a week ago, looking for a warm place to spend a few days. I’ve been coming here for the past six or so years — although I didn’t come last year — so I know the place pretty well. The hot springs is at a BLM Long Term camping area. That means you can pay $40 to camp for up to two weeks or $160 to camp for up to 7 months. I paid for the two-week pass, even though I only expected to stay a few days.

The campground is inhabited by mostly retired folks in all kinds of rigs. Most of them are decked out with solar panels for power. There are also some full-time RVers who either live here a few months or pass through like I do. The campsites are nicely spread out and relatively private. The place is quiet because most folks don’t use generators and it’s not the kind of place that would appeal to rowdy folks.

The main feature here is the hot springs, which is just outside the camping area unfortunately close to Interstate 8. The soaking area consists of three tubs. The large one is very deep — I’m 5 foot 8 and it goes to my shoulders — and usually the hottest one. That one’s overflow goes into a smaller tub that’s shallow and is usually the coolest of the bunch. Those two are both concrete. The third one, which is new to me, is a standard stock tank that can comfortably seat three people; its temperature varies on how recently it was filled.

The hot water comes into the tanks from a Frankenstein’s monster of pipes, valves, and hoses. Below the surface of the largest tub is the valve with the hottest water because it’s closest to the source. From there, the water also goes up a vertical pipe to feed another valve with cooler water (because it’s going through the air before it hits the tub) and finally a rotating shower head. Along the way, there’s a valve and a hose to feed the stock tank.

The whole setup is cleaned weekly on Tuesday mornings by a team of volunteers from the campground using a truckload of equipment. They drain all tanks and use a power washer to clean their surfaces. In the old days, they used to put spa chemicals into it, but they don’t do that anymore. Now they just refill the tanks and they’re good to go for another week. Because fresh water can always be added, the water flushes through nicely and doesn’t really get too gross.

All of the area’s overflow drains into a beautiful pond surrounded by palm trees. I used to see ducks in here, but I haven’t seen any so far this year.

I recommend this place if you don’t mind a more rugged hot springs experience. The tubs are nice but they are shared. Clothing is required — if you strip down, you will be asked to dress. You’re also expected to shower before entering any of the tubs. Common courtesy prevails.

There are a number of hot springs sources in the area. Nearby, there’s a geothermal plant that I can sometimes hear humming if I go out at night and there’s supposed to be another hot spring about 10 or so miles north of here that isn’t quite as nice as this.

My pups and I will be here a day or two longer. This has been my most pleasant stop so far, with great weather, lots of sun, two hot tub soaks a day, and plenty of biking and walking. And the Internet access on my mobile devices is wicked fast. I’m not looking forward to moving on.

Let me know what you think about this video in the comments. If you’d like to see more — including livestream video from Quartzsite, AZ during the big rock shows — please subscribe! And check out my blog for more details about my winter travels this year.

See you!

The Bum at the Hot Springs

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Nothing like a man who is proud of his livelihood. Or is there?

I’m still at the hot springs near Holtville. My second week started today. I’m working on a video about it — really! — but will likely blog a bit more about it, too.

I soak twice a day in the tubs. I usually go in the morning around 8 or 9 AM and then again after lunch. It’s been remarkably empty on this visit. Maybe everyone is stuck in their camper with Covid. I don’t know, but I’m sure enjoying it.

But a little less this morning.

When I arrived for my soak, there were only three other people there: a man in a cowboy hat with a thick southern accent who wasn’t soaking, a woman in a bathing suit in the large tub, and a man in shorts in the large tub. The shorts weren’t unusual; I’d say only two thirds of the people in the tubs are prepared with bathing suits. The others wear whatever they have to wear.

They were deep in conversation when I arrived and from the bits and pieces I heard, it didn’t sound like anything interesting. I stripped down to my bathing suit and got under the shower to rinse off. Then, since the smallest tub was vacant and full of water, I climbed in to keep my distance from the others.

I heard their conversation now and, like I said, it wasn’t terribly interesting. None of them seemed very bright. And then I caught something that got me interested. Shorts man said, “I was going to take a few hours off today, but I have to get back to work.”

“What do you do?” cowboy hat asked.

“I’m a bum,” shorts man said.

There was a moment of silence as the other two tried to figure out what he meant.

But they didn’t have to wait long because shorts man spoke up pretty quickly. “I ask for money at the side of the road.”

The other two acknowledged his words without making judgement. I was very glad I was not among them because I doubt I could have kept my mouth shut.

“Yeah, I go to a corner and I put up a sign that says ‘Hungry’ and people give me money. It’s great! My gas and my food — it’s all free.”

There was a sick sort of pride in his voice. He was bragging about his success as a panhandler.

He went on to give them details about some of the corners he’d worked recently. As he spoke, the woman edged over to the ladder and climbed out. The other guy listened politely for a while and made appropriate polite noises.

The woman came to the shower, which was near me, and I must have made a face at her. (I have a tendency to roll my eyes, sometimes at inappropriate times. Drove my wasband nuts, but hell, he shouldn’t have given me so many reasons to roll my eyes.) She nodded at me — I think in agreement — as she began rinsing off.

Shorts man, the proud bum, was still talking to cowboy hat, although I think the subject had changed. When the woman finished with the shower and went back to where her towel hung on the fence, cowboy hat joined her. The bum was still talking to them as they said goodbye and slipped out the gate.

That left me alone with the bum. I wasn’t afraid of him or anything like that. I was just worried he’d come talk to me and that I’d say something that I shouldn’t. I was royally pissed off. I hate panhandlers with a passion, especially the ones who so obviously could get work if they wanted it. This guy didn’t even look like a bum.

So I climbed out of my tub and began showering off. But by the time I’d gone for my towel, he’d left the area, probably to ask cowboy hat and the woman for lunch money or something.

Who the fuck knows.

Anyway, another couple came and since I’d already soaked for a while and had gotten my towel soaked by drying off, I decided to go back to my camp. They had the tub area to themselves.

Later in the day, when I went back for my afternoon soak at around 1:30 PM, he was back in the big tub, smoking and chatting away with someone else while two other people in the tub were clearly trying to ignore them. I guess he’d taken the rest of the day off. Again, the smaller tub was available and that’s where I went. I only stayed about 30 minutes and was gone before he left.

So the next time you see a man at an intersection with a crude cardboard sign reading “Hungry” or “Anything Helps” or “God Bless,” I want you to remember this story. How many of those people take their cars filled with gas that gullible fools — like you, maybe? — paid for on trips out to the hot springs or local bar or other hangout when they’re “off” from “work”? How many of them brag to strangers about how they’re living on someone else’s dime? How many of them really need your help?

Every time you give one of them money, you’re just perpetuating the problem.

Snowbirding 2022: More Camping in the Lake Mead Area

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Some luxury camping followed by three nights at a remote beach.

[Note: I had aspirations about vlogging my trip this year, but the response has been pretty disappointing — too disappointing to put a lot of effort into it. Sorry, but I’m really not interested in spending hours creating videos that 25 people watch. I’d rather spend an hour on a blog post that those same 25 people are likely to read — or at least look at. So here I am.]

When I’d last checked in, I’d just resolved my battery issue. Or thought I had. I didn’t know because I camped that night at Willow Beach where I had a full hookup and didn’t have to rely on my batteries at all. That was Thursday, December 16 — the end of my first full week on the road.

Willow Beach


Here’s my camper on its concrete pad at Willow Beach. If you need a campground with a hookup, this is a nice one.

Willow Beach is one of my favorite campgrounds in the southwest. High up a canyon overlooking the Colorado River, it has extremely well maintained and nicely spaced campsites that include electricity, water, and sewer hookups as well as a sturdy picnic table and fire pit/grilling area. There’s also showers (with heated rooms; imagine that!) and a laundry facility. The only drawback is that it’s crazy expensive: $60/night is the regular rate and tax gets added to that. I saved a few bucks with my Good Sam membership but seniors 62 and older who have the Senior Pass for National Parks save 50%. I suspect that’s why it’s so expensive: so that when the majority of users show up with a pass, they can still get a reasonable amount of money for the sites.


The lower half of the Willow Beach Campground. My rig is in about the middle of this shot. I had a nice view down into the canyon and could kinda sorta see the river.

The campground also makes a good starting point for boat trips up the river toward the dam or down the river into Lake Mohave. I have made the boat trip from the campground up to Arizona Hot Springs twice — most recently last year with my friend Bill — and would have done it again this year if (1) it wasn’t so damn chilly and (2) the water levels were high enough to permit upriver travel. When they told me that upriver travel was currently not allowed, I didn’t bother renting a boat there.


The laundry room at Willow Beach campground. I washed and dried a load of laundry for $4.

I had a nice, short stay in the park. In addition to enjoying my electric heater (which I can only use when plugged in), I also took advantage of the shower and laundry facilities. Before leaving on Friday (December 17) morning, I filled my fresh water tank, filled one of my 6 gallon water jugs, and dumped my gray and black water tanks, thus prepping me for another 5 to 7 days of boondocking.

On the way out of the area, I stopped for a while to visit the Willow Beach Fish Hatchery, which I’m pretty sure has existed longer than the campground and boat facilities. I walked around the tanks for a while, spoke briefly to one of the workers, and watched the fish being fed. The two species they were currently rearing were rainbow trout and endangered razorback sucker. As water levels rise, they’ll release fish into the river. This is downstream from Hoover Dam, so they’ll wind up in Lake Mohave — the body of water between Hoover and Davis Dams.


The Willow Beach Fish Hatchery.

Kingman Wash


Kingman Wash camping area (the blue dot here) is at the end of a 3-mile long, hilly gravel road.

I was mostly curious about Kingman Wash, which, for the record, is not near Kingman, Arizona. To get there, I had to backtrack up Route 93 to the first exit on the Arizona side of the Colorado River. From there, I got on a maintained gravel road that was hilly and, in some parts, kind of hairy. It climbed into the hills and then descended down to a dispersed camping area at the mouth of a wash on Lake Mead.

At one time, the area had a concrete boat ramp. The boat ramp is still there, but it’s nowhere near the water’s edge. Between it and the water is a lot of rough gravel. And then there’s a sand beach along the water’s edge.

When I got down there on that Friday morning, there was only one car there and it was deserted. I scouted around a bit and then maneuvered my rig into position in the middle of the canyon on a relatively flat spot that dropped off toward the water.


My campsite at Kingman Wash. There was a steep drop behind me and an erosion channel about 50 feet southwest. No one was going to park anywhere near me.

I picked the spot for three reasons: (1) being in the middle of the canyon meant I’d get more sun than being on the southwest side (which would have been easier to park in), (2) being in the middle of such rough terrain minimized the possibility of some inconsiderate idiot parking right next to me, and (3) I had a wonderful view of Lake Mead out my back door and windows. As it turned out, I would have been a little better off farther northeast in the canyon; I wound up getting direct sunlight from just 8:30 AM to 3 PM. But I don’t regret parking where I did. It was perfect for me.


Here’s moonset on Sunday morning, shot from the back door of my camper.

I leveled my rig with blocks and immediately took out the generator and set it up. If the battery fix didn’t work, I wanted to be able to run the generator without a lot of fuss in freezing temperatures. As it turned out, 6-1/2 hours of sunlight was more than enough to fully charge both batteries and I didn’t need to run the generator even once. My battery issues were fixed.

My Internet connection was amazing. Four bars, 5G. Fast speeds. I edited and uploaded that last video.

A few other campers — all in Sprinter vans — showed up later in the day. They parked up the canyon on the boat ramp. As usual, I hit the sack not long after it got dark. Being a Friday night, some rowdy partiers showed up and made a large campfire on the beach. There weren’t very close to me and I didn’t hear much from them other than music and the engines of their trucks as they came and went. They left around 4 AM; I was awake.


It’s really unusual to see coyotes wandering around during the day, but this one was pretty bold. He made his first appearance within an hour of our arrival.

I should probably mention the wildlife. Other than birds, there were two animals in the area. The first was a coyote who made his appearances in the morning and evening. He came very close to my camper more than once, probably looking for food scraps or small dogs to take for dinner. I spotted him in the dark stealing food from the partier’s unattended campfire — I even pulled out my binoculars for a closer look. This was an animal who lived off the people who came down to camp. Needless to say, I had my pups on a leash any time we went walking when he might be around.


I shot this photo of the burros while sitting on the back step of my camper. The closest one was about 10 feet away. Feeding wildlife makes them this friendly. While it’s amazing to see, it’s really not good for the wildlife.

The other wildlife were burros. There was a single burro who wandered around by himself and a herd of six others that included one very young one, two slightly older ones, and three adults. They were bold and came up to whoever was around. It was difficult not to feed them — they really were cute — but feeding wildlife makes them dependent on us and that’s just not a good thing.

On Saturday, a bunch of cars and trucks came down and parked with their rear ends facing the beach in a long line. They turned out to be a scuba certification class. They suited up and spent a lot of time in the water. The herd of burros boldly went right up to them; the coyote was conspicuously absent.

Once they’d gone in the afternoon, two vans and another truck camper showed up, each parking along the beach, spaced apart for privacy. Some other campers showed up on the boat ramp. There may have been more farther up the canyon. Everyone pretty much kept to themselves. In general, people who like to be social don’t camp out alone in dispersed camping areas.


Here’s the beach on Sunday morning. The vehicles parked parallel to the beach (a camper truck and two vans) were actually camped there overnight. Can you believe the nerve of the scuba folks to park so close to them when there’s so much other space? Inconsiderate!

On Sunday morning, the scuba people were back. I watched in amazement as they parked where they had the day before, completely surrounding one of the vans and parking within 10 feet of the truck camper’s back door. It was extremely inconsiderate. There was plenty of room for parking without invading other people’s space. I can only imagine the guy in the van waking up to find people right outside his door. Apparently words were spoken later in the day and the van guy left in a huff.

Of course, I didn’t have to deal with any of that where I was because no one else was nuts enough to park where I’d parked.


Here’s the big picture at Kingman Wash on Sunday. My camper is the one in the middle of the shot on the hill. The white Sprinter van is at the end of the boat ramp.

I spent a lot of time inside my camper, mostly reading. It was cool out and really only comfortable outdoors when the area was in direct sunlight, so I busied myself with inside chores. I didn’t feel comfortable letting my pups out alone so they mostly slept.

We went on a few walks along the water’s edge on Saturday and Sunday, midday and in the evening. Although there were rocky slopes on both sides of the cove, the burros and the action of the water as it receded over the years had formed flat trails at various levels. They were easy to walk on and gave me various views of the area and beyond. On these walks I let my pups loose so they could run a bit; the coyote stayed out of sight. Beyond that, there wasn’t much hiking available from my camper.

I also spent some time chatting with the scuba folks and the guy in the truck camper. The truck camper guy was weird because when he settled in, he set up two chairs, side by side, outside the camper. I assumed he was with someone who was keeping her/himself busy inside. It wasn’t until we chatted on Sunday evening that I realized he was alone. (Maybe that second chair was for his dog?) He invited me to dinner — he was making spaghetti when I visited — but I declined. He was a nice enough guy but I just didn’t feel like that much socializing.

Meanwhile, the weather forecast was not looking very good. Skies would be overcast, rain was possible, and temperatures were dropping. I didn’t come south for cool weather. I came south for t-shirt weather. It was time to move on. I left on Monday (December 20) morning.

The Snowbirding 2022 Posts

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A handy index to all of the posts for 2021/22’s winter travels.

Updated 7-Feb-22

Regularly Updated

  • Campsite Log – a list of the places I camp, their costs, and their amenities, along with some notes. Updated 11-Feb-22.
  • Travel Costs – a day-by-day breakdown of my travel expenses. Updated 11-Feb-22.

Vlog (Video Blog) Posts

Regular Blog Posts

Related Posts

Snowbirding 2022: The Power Problem

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I finally track down and solve an annoying battery power issue.

The problem first reared its ugly head at Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge on Saturday night — the day after I’d left home. (I’d spent that first night at a campground in Idaho with a power hookup.) Nighttime temperatures were forecasted to be at 20°F or lower so, like anyone who values comfort, I stacked some extra blankets on my bed at nighttime and turned the heater on.

How It All Works

My RV’s heater is forced air propane. That means there’s a propane burner that heats the air and a battery powered fan that blows the air into the living space. So in order to have heat, you need propane and battery power.


My rig’s batteries in their compartment. The space is so limited that only a few different battery models will fit — so please don’t lecture me about 6v systems because I’ve already explored that option.

My RV has two 12v deep cycle marine/RV batteries on board. They are connected to the rig’s internal converter (which converts AC to DC power when I’m plugged into an external AC power source), a power connector to my truck (when the camper is on the truck and plugged into it), and my solar panel controller (which is attached to two 100-watt solar panels on the rig’s roof). That gives me three ways to keep those batteries charged: external power (if I’m plugged in), power from my truck (as I’m driving down the road), and solar power (during the day, which varies depending on how sunny it is).

My batteries showed fully charged — per the voltage reading on the solar controller — when solar power eased off late in the day. That was fine; that’s the way it’s supposed to be. The system is set up so that if I’m parked in a sunny place during the day, the batteries will fully charge before nightfall. I’m extremely conservative with my power use because, although I have a generator, I don’t like to run it.

Between sunset and the time I went to bed, power seemed to drain out of the batteries a bit more than I remembered it doing. Keep in mind, however, that I hadn’t been “dry camping” since the previous winter, so I really didn’t remember what kind of power drain I’d been experiencing. (The batteries were new; replaced in January.) I went to bed with the heat set low to just take the big chill out of the air.

The Problem Rears Its Head

I woke early and noticed that my refrigerator was showing an error code that meant it wasn’t getting enough power. My refrigerator runs on propane (when I’m not plugged into external power) but, like my heater, it requires a certain amount of DC power to operate its thermostat and interior light and who knows what else. When power drops below a certain level, the refrigerator shuts down and the error message appears.

I checked the solar charge controller. It read 10v. That was very bad.

I got up and turned everything off. And then I got back under the covers, which was pretty much the only way I’d stay warm until it was light enough for the solar panels to go to work or late enough for me to run my generator in a campground where other people might like to sleep past 5 AM.

I had a hell of a time getting the generator started later that morning in 18°F temperatures. I thought it was a problem with the generator itself but I think it was more the fact that the previous user — who was not me; when will I learn not to lend out my stuff? — ran it dry of fuel. Later, I managed to get fuel and get it running and everything was back to normal.

Or at least I thought it was. I figured that I’d just expected too much from the fully charged batteries the night before. Instead of running the heater all night, I’d leave it turned off the next night and turn it on in the morning to warm the place before I got out of bed. In the meantime, the batteries were charging fine in the bright sun of my campsite.


Here’s my usual generator setup. There’s an adapter that makes it possible to plug in my 30 amp RV cord to a standard 20 or 15 amp outlet.

But the next morning, when it was only slightly warmer than the morning before, the batteries were already dead — without me running the heat at all!

I waited as long as I could and then said, “F*ck this, I’m running the generator before I freeze my ass off.” And I started the generator at 6 AM. Fortunately, my closest neighbor had left the day before and my 2KW Honda is pretty quiet. Plugging the camper into the generator is pretty much the same as plugging it into any AC power source; I had power and the batteries would charge.

Plugging In, Then Trying Again

Meanwhile, winter weather — rain and wind in that part of Nevada — was moving in. I decided that what I needed was either a campsite with a power hookup or a campsite in a remote area where I could run my generator anytime I had to.


At Valley of Fire State Park. I’m not totally opposed to campground living; I just don’t really like it when I don’t need it.

I went to Valley of Fire State Park and enjoyed two nights plugged in at one of their campgrounds. Surely being plugged for more than 40 hours straight would fix the battery issues. But I had my doubts. I’d dry boondocking — that’s camping with no hookups — one more night before I tried to get the batteries replaced.

So I spent the night at Stewart Point on Lake Mead. I had a great campsite and I would have loved to spend more than one night there. But it was the same story in the morning — freezing cold with no battery power. I didn’t even bother running the generator. I made my coffee in a travel mug, loaded up my pups, and left the campground right around dawn.


Boondocking at Stewart Point. I could have stayed here a week if it weren’t for the power problems.

Tracking Down the Problem

That was Thursday.

I already had reservations at Willow Beach campground on the Colorado River for Sunday and Monday night. I changed them to that night. If I couldn’t fix the power problem, I’d need a power hookup again. I was tired of freezing my ass off in bed and very tired of seeing my pups shivering, even with their coats on, as they tried to sleep. I was starting to wonder whether I should just give up and go home. I was seriously sick and tired of dealing with the problem.

I headed in to Henderson, NV where there was a Camping World. Camping World is a chain of RV sales and service places that are usually quite large and well-stocked. I had already called them the day before to see if they could replace my batteries while I waited. I was not going to deal with a place that made an appointment two weeks from Tuesday.

Long story short: because the Interstate brand batteries were less than a year old, they were covered under warranty. But because Camping World didn’t sell that exact model, they wouldn’t swap them. I wound up going to the Interstate location in Las Vegas. All this time, I’m trying to get the folks who sold me the battery to email me a copy of the receipt as proof of purchase.

One of the Interstate techs came out and tested the batteries. By this time, the drive plus the sun had fully charged them. The first battery tested good. I started thinking about how I’d track down the power issue if the problem wasn’t the batteries. But the second battery tested bad. And the guy found the date code on the battery that proved its age so I didn’t need a receipt after all.

There was some trouble with how I was going to swap them. They didn’t do installations on RV batteries — just car batteries. And they wouldn’t give me the new battery unless I left the old one. And then they also were trying to sell me the replacement or even a replacement for the one that wasn’t bad. They gave me the number of a mobile installer — likely someone they get kickback from — but I also called Camping World. Camping World wanted $149 plus tax to swap the batteries.

Once again, I found myself saying, “F*ck that. I’ll do it myself.”


It’s the battery on the left that needed replacement. One terminal had just one fat cable while the other had two fat cables and three skinny cables. It was difficult getting them all back in place, but I managed.

I dug out my junky $49 Harbor Freight toolkit, which lives at the bottom of one of my outside storage compartments. I took a photo of the mass of wires I’d have to disconnect and then reconnect on the battery terminals. I disconnected the wires on the bad battery. And then I got the Interstate tech to take the bad battery out of the cabinet and lift the replacement battery up into its place. (I don’t think I could have lifted them myself; I tipped him $5.)

I got to work with a couple of wrenches and fastened all the wires where they needed to be. No sparks, no flames. I went inside my camper to look at various things that would indicate success or failure. The solar charge controller was registering properly, the fridge was on, the stereo’s clock was lit up. It all looked good.

I put everything away and left.

The Test

I had a celebratory lunch in Boulder City. It was more of a reward for dealing with everything I’d dealt with. Then my pups and I took a bike ride on the Historic Railroad Trail that starts at the Lake Mead Visitor Center and goes all the way to Hoover Dam. I put the bike and my pups’ trailer away and we headed down to Willow Beach.


Here I am, parked at a nice level site with a full hookup at Willow Beach. It’s a nice enough campground, but I think the price is outrageous. It’s half price for 65+ with the right paperwork so I have something to look forward to — in five years.

I considered not plugging in so I could test the system right then and there. But I was paying $57 for that campsite for one night and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to use every single one of its features. So I enjoyed 30 amp power and “city” water and dumped the RVs tanks. I also had a good shower and did a load of laundry before leaving on Friday morning.

I’d decided that I’d test the system at Kingman Wash, a camping area about 3 miles from pavement on Lake Mead. I didn’t want to get any farther away from the Las Vegas area; if the problem wasn’t resolved, I’d need it troubleshooted and I stood a much better chance at finding an experienced RV repair person in a metro area than 100 miles south in some podunk town.

I drove down there, found an excellent camping area with just one other camper, parked on a high point overlooking the beach, pulled out my generator, and set it up. If I was going to need it, I wanted it all ready for me. I discovered that because the site was down in a canyon, I’d only have direct sunlight for about 6-1/2 hours a day — I was in shadows by 3 PM. But the batteries were charged when I went to bed.


I’m parked nearly dead center in this photo. Most of the vehicles by the water were for a SCUBA certification class that showed up during the day on Saturday and Sunday. You can see the afternoon shadow creeping toward my rig.

I left the heat off. It was warmer there than it had been at previous sites. In the morning, I still had 12.5v on the solar controller. I fired up the heat. And some lights. Everything worked fine.

The second night was the same.

For the third night, I got a little daring. I put the heat on before I went to bed. Again, set low to keep the chill out. It cycled on and off as needed all night. In the morning, I still had more than 12v of power.

I didn’t need to run my generator at all.

The problem was resolved.

Current Status

It’s Tuesday morning and I’m boondocking at Six Mile Cove on Lake Mohave. I set my generator up again before going to bed last night and left the heat on overnight. Power levels were fine in the morning, but it’s overcast today and I wanted to charge my laptop and a few other things so I ran the generator for about two hours. Now I’m just finishing up this blog post before a lunch break. This afternoon I’ll edit more video.


It’s a crappy day at Lake Mohave but it’s quiet and private, especially since my neighbors just “went into town” for a tire for their RV. (The closest town that might have a tire is Boulder City, which is about 90 minutes from here.)

The camping area is large, right on the lake, has garbage receptacles and pit toilets. It’s just me and a couple in a big fifth wheel toy hauler. Yesterday, I helped them get their rig out of the sand where it was stuck. They invited me to join them at their campfire and I did. My cell signal is weak, but I seem able to get online enough. I’ll spend another night here and then head over to the campground at Cottonwood Cove where I can get a full hookup while some more weather moves through. By that time, I’ll need to dump my tanks, top off my fresh water tank, and maybe buy some propane.

After that, back to boondocking. It’s the kind of RVing I like most — and you really can’t beat the price.