Both Burt and I saw this guy step out of the car and thought, “There he is!” But he had a droopy right eye instead of a droopy left eye. At least we’re paying attention. You gotta believe in it if you want to make it happen. Burt took the opportunity to role play with the guy and yelled out, “Are you doing any quail hunting?” and they were off. He had great things to say about our planned destination, Parker Canyon Lake. He was sad to inform us that motors weren’t allowed on the lake and Burt cheerily informed him that we didn’t have a motor for our boat. And now we are off.
We swung in to Phoenix for a quick visit with Burt’s sister Jill and her family. We caught up on what was happening with them, watched a video about a new business venture they are all involved in and then headed south. Here’s a link to the company they are involved with. It’s not a venture we’re interested in, but we wish them well.
We (again) failed to stop at dusk when we had the chance. Ten minutes later we were mired in bumper to bumper traffic when road construction reduced the lanes from three to one. Well past dark I saw a Cracker Barrel sign and we decided to see if the rumors of free parking were true. The rumor mill was correct. We paid homage by enjoying an incredibly mediocre dinner in the restaurant. Next time I’ll buy a candy bar at the general store.
I caught up with my friend Sue this evening and she recommended we stop in to see the Sonoran Desert Museum. She also suggested we visit her friend Michael Haykin until I joked that we hadn’t been properly introduced and therefore it would be impossible for us to meet. Sue had just read Pride and Predjudice and I had just read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. If you’ve read either book you’ll understand our jokes about Victorian social etiquette. In reality we would love to pop in on Michael Haykin almost as much as we want to find Jim Harrison. Mr. Haykin creates lovely paintings. Sue and Jay own several of his pieces. We’ll wait until next time to meet Michael, but Mr. Haykin if you are reading this, we are playing down at the Portal Peak Lodge next week.
So where does that leave us dear readers? Camp when you have the chance. Buy great art. Mind your manners.
We’ll be the Portal Peak Lodge Friday and Saturday night, the 15th and 16th. Swing on by if you’re in the area. Burt set it up with a cold call. He saw an ad for the lodge and cafe in a travel magazine. We are very excited the owners decided to host us. Portal is in the very southeast corner of Arizona. The town sits at the base of the Chiricahua Mountains and wilderness area. The area has great birding. It is one of the few places in the US where you might see the beautiful Trogan.
The last couple of days we’ve been riding on loose, undulating gravel roads and even venturing off road in the very insensitive desert landscape around Quartzsite. I haven’t ridden much in over a decade. Burt bought me one of those throw back granny bicycles this past June for my birthday. After I broke my sesamoid it was time to give up running. I broke my sesamoid surfing. We both love saying that word…sesamoid. Too bad I had to break it to find out what it was. I digress.
Out here in the dessert I’ve been having a little too much fun and I guess I went a little overboard yesterday. My neck and shoulders are very irritated, despite the full shocks and nearly upright seating. On the other hand, I am rocking out tearing it up on all kinds off loose and crazy trails. All that pent-up frustration from giving up trail running. I didn’t even wear a helmet because I thought I would be such a baby that I wouldn’t dare leave the flat and smooth. With my new found enthusiasm, I promise to wear my helmet. It is a longway to the ground on these comfy bikes.
We ditched Quartzsite early this morning and planned to stay at Buckeye County Recreation area. We heard there was free parking. It was only 100 miles away and would put us in easy distance of our Saturday date in Phoenix. We arrived at the campground around 11:00 AM. Most importantly, no cell service. Not really, but it is a factor. The place was just odd. I suspect homeland security dollars finance it. At the entrance was a large scale outdoor firing range. Just a little further in was a law enforcement training academy. Who knows why they tacked on a park? Maybe to make it more palatable to the locals? The Clash song starts to play in our heads: Should I stay or Should I go now?
We found a flat spot and decided to stay. We had smoked salmon salad with capers and cukes for lunch. Then I pointed to a nearby ridge and said, “Let’s walk up and along that.” Elvis and Burt agreed. While we were up there some people came out and started target practicing in a nearby gully with their hand guns. They were safe about it, but it was against the rules and there was a firing range just a half mile away. We enjoyed the walk, but the air was smoggy, the guns noisy and the area was barren, even for the desert.
We got back to the trailer at 2:00 and decided to bail. I remembered the Painted Rocks campground from a few years back. I went camping for a couple of days while Burt flew to California to drive his Mom to Prescott. So we hit the road and got here by 3 and are pleased we changed our minds. It’s a lovely spot and the petroglyphs are mind blowing. There are about 800 individual carvings in this one location. We walked for another hour. Can you see why we are tired? Here are some pictures:
Ouch! The server stopped working last night and I got behind on my updates. Thanks to whomever is behind the scenes looking after these things. It is late afternoon in Quartzsite, AZ. Photos from our Slab City gig came in. Thanks, Lisa. Burt is singing I’m an Old Cowhand in the one to the left.
Quartzite is beautiful country, but the endless commerce scene is unappetizing. We are out on the fringes off of Dome Rock Road. We climbed Dome Rock yesterday. It was a mighty steep scramble up loose scree. I didn’t know I still had it in me. My very fat and lazy rat wanted on top of the dome worse than anything in recent memory. Elvis also achieved his first summit. He gamely navigated loose debris and cacti so he could be by our sides.
This morning we did the usual breakfast, fussing about, and music before a 2 hour mountain bike ride. I on-line chatted with a musical pal, Michael Willing, while trying (in vain) to fix the web page. Michael asked if we wanted to play a dance in Froid, MT this next year. As we have no plans to get to Montana in the next year, Burt and I decided it would take a minimum of $10,000 to get us to reroute. The rate we travel it’s 3 months of driving to get there. It’s safe to say nobody is going to pay us that much money to play music anytime soon.
We enjoyed a leisurely reading break around noon. You can see Burt working on Jim Harrison’s memoir. If you’re
lurking out there Jim, we are headed your way and hope you can accommodate us for a few days quail hunting.
Soon we headed out to take in the market at Quartzsite. What a bunch of crap. There is a massive rock show, swap meets, doodads, buffalo jerky, fry bread, seconds of laundry soap, used DVDs and not a darned thing anyone living in a trailer needs to haul around. OOOO I take that back. We bought a new coffee pot. Ours leaked. We are leaving tomorrow. The plan is Buckeye State Recreation Area. More free camping and easy access to Phoenix where we’ll meet Burt’s sister and her off-spring.
Think good thoughts about our clutch.
First off, thanks for the great advice Todd!! As soon as we get to a real town we will follow up with a larger purveyor of transmissions than the Brawley lube and wash joint.
Our mechanic Miguel got the clutch into passable shape. While he worked we grocery shopped, mailed some stuff and hit the local Alzheimer’s Day Care to play a few tunes. Those of you that know me know that my mother is afflicted by the disease. The Brawley Adult Day Care was just about across the street from the guy who was working on the truck so we headed in and provided entertainment. Mom still enjoys it when we play music for her. Sadly for us we were only able to play for about 20 minutes before everyone headed home for the day. Most of our audience were neither in their right minds nor spoke English, but the loved us anyway. Or maybe that’s why they did.
The clutch was repaired, but Miguel could not get the air bled properly so it was still soft. We headed into the wilds at 3:00. We camped on BLM land just off a highway. On our evening walk I discovered the lovely head gear you see me wearing to the left. We presume it flew away from the hordes of holiday off-roaders that rallied in the nearby sand dunes. We hit the hay early.
This morning we made it to a free BLM camping area just outside of Quartzsite, AZ. Just as we got sideways to back in to a spot the clutch failed. Good Grief. No forward or back. At least we were at the end of the road. We set up camp where we lay. Some funny looks and shrugged shoulders. It’s hard to get too upset when you have no schedule and aren’t stuck on the road. I looked up repair joints on the Internet and then we decided to pay our nearest neighbors a visit. They are about 50 yards away. Despite the distance, there is no privacy. We are after all in the desert. Since they were here ahead of us they constitute locals in our mind and might now more than we do.
I mistook the mistress of the house for a very large man, but luckily I didn’t open my mouth before she greeted us with a distinctly feminine voice. Burt made the introductions and said we were from Montana. She was from New Hampshire. Burt asked if she knew of any reliable repair shops in the area and in typical yankee fashion she tersely said there were repair shops in “town.” Burt prodded a bit asking, “Have you used any of them?” No. Awkward pause…Then more taciturnly, “What kind of a problem is it?” Burt explained the clutch issue. Then she said with kindness, “Well my friend in Blythe (10 miles away) used to repair transmissions, but he’s retired. You could call him, he might help you out. What kind of truck is it?” “A Dodge.” “Well he used to work for Dodge.” She gives us the number and Burt calls the retired, Dodge transmission repairman. John advised us on how to bleed the air. He doesn’t think we have a serious problem. I spent the next 20 minutes slowly depressing the clutch while Burt unhooked the trailer. Not 3 minutes in there was noticeable improvement. John reassured us that the problem most likely was the air in the line and the repair should be good. Everyone asks, “Is the clutch slipping?” and no, thank god, it is not. I guess if the clutch is slipping you’ve got a real problem. The truck has been disengaged and driven away from the trailer. We might be out of the woods for a few more miles.
I am grateful we weren’t towed back to Slab City yesterday to wait for parts and repair. We might never have made it back on the road. Both of us realize our 9 year old vehicle May require a new clutch sooner rather than later.
We finally left Slab City at 8:45 this morning. We made it to the dump station where we exchanged black water for clean and made our way towards Quartzsite. Only a few niles down the road we stopped at an auto parts store to get a new tail light. Happily, once we opened the tail light assembly the light worked. It must of been a lose connection. Not so happily, when we started back up the clutch completely failed. Back in the store Burt got a recommendation for two nearby mechanics. But how to get there? We walked to one and he suggested we check the fluid level and come back if it wasn’t the problem. As we stood on the road with the hood up a guy came out of the store and asked if we needed help. He seems very knowledgeable but we feel kind of like sitting ducks. He works at the lube shop across the street from the auto parts place, easy to drive to but not recommended. Burt is putting them through the paces to describe exactly what they think is going on and how much it will cost to repair. The good news it sounds like they know exactly what is wrong, bad news is they aren’t sure if they can get the part and how much the part will cost.
We planned to leave Slab City Saturday but got bogged down with general grooming and lying about. Burt looks spruced up in a new hair cut and neck shave. Looks like a good thing we were overcome by inertia. The breakdown on a Sunday morning would have been annoying. Now its just one of those things we expected to have to deal with.
The crowd wasn’t as big as New Years and there were more people waiting their turn to play but our fans were there so we took the stage again with a new bandmate. We met Andrew this morning. He dropped by and asked if he could jam with us. Of course we said yes. He went and retrieved a crappy mandolin and sat down. I was working on the fiddle. After one tune he asked if he could play my fiddle. Ahhhhh….he was classically trained and has turned his back on the dots and making his way into less structured music. He had such a great ear we had him play with us tonight and it was a complete success. I was transported by his work on Dance Me to the End of Love and forgot what the hell I was supposed to be doing. He’s only 18 and sat in on 16 Tons, These Boots Were Made for Walking, and I’m an Old Cowhand. He had not heard of any of them before taking the stage. Earlier in the day we played Autumn Leaves and Black Orpheus with him. They were killer but not appropriate for a set at the Range.
While we were waiting our turn to take the stage we watched some of the locals duke it out over who played with whom and when. Our drummer from the other night threw a beer bottle from his drum set when John (another tone-deaf octogenarian) turned on his drum machine. The bottle exploded at our feet. I leaned over to Burt and asked, “Do you think he read my comments about his drumming on our blog?” Everything calmed down quickly, but we are heading out tomorrow. We plan to make it to Quartzite, a more upscale version of The Slabs.
Check out our friend Kristin’s site: www.demonikaandthedarklings.com. She and her friend were some of our fans. The page is cool and creepy. They took a bunch of photos and we hope to have them here soon.
Burt’s normal footfall is more teeth rattling than the quakes we’ve been noticing. Here’s a link to a graph of the ones in the area in the last few days. The trailer is a cozy place to ride the tremors. I like it. I started feeling them a couple days ago and finally mentioned it to Burt (who hadn’t noticed) when I heard there was a big quake just south of the border. Then last night we were lying in bed and a gentle rocking started that we noticed only because we were at rest. Fun. The Nash is like a boat riding the earth’s waves.
Here are some random pics from the last couple of days in Slab City.
Last night we walked under the huge moon enjoying the desert air lush with the scent of creosote bush.
If you are unfamiliar with the creosote bush but are familiar with railroad ties, that might not sound appealing. Indeed the bush has a lovely aroma. I find it more soothing than sage, Burt’s favorite. I would like a creosote bush perfume or candle. So we walked in the bright moonlight and marveled at how much we like this place.
It is a bit of a wasteland and some squatters are living in squalid conditions. There are refuse piles here and there and some clumps of vegetation teem with litter. On the other hand there is the wide open sky and surrounding vistas of mountains in every direction. There is a culture of found art and many homes are pleasing to the eye despite being made from trash. This morning we rode our bikes for two hours with Elvis trotting alongside.
A mile or so out of “town” there were several apiaries. Burt, the former apiarist cautioned me that many hives are Africanized in this are so we didn’t get to close. It was cool zipping through the bee traffic as they made their ways from
hive to irrigation canal to collect water. We went to the library (open 24/7) and I picked up two new books: Luncheonette and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I can’t wait to read Jane Austen with ZOMBIES. From there we went to the pet cemetery. There were sweet memorials to folk’s traveling companions. I can’t tell you how much more important Elvis and Mimi feel to us out here on the road. It is a pleasure to look after them and make sure they have what they need to be comfortable. I guess if they are happy then we are happy.
Yesterday Right before we went to Salvation Mountain we toured to beautifully painted concrete water tanks. They secular versions of the God is Love theme. One mural depicts all kinds of dinosaurs and monsters with an anti-war theme. The other mural depicts sex acts in every imaginable position. I was surprised to see it was all heterosexual, but there were some hilarious depictions of inter-species copulation.
We befriended our first full timer, Gene Goff, yesterday. Gene is in his late 60s and has been on the road for over 20 years. He’s lived on disability and Social Security. He lost most of his left hand in an as yet undisclosed manner. He has the conical base of his thumb and the palm heel. The combination was surprisingly dexterous. Anyway, Gene was full of helpful advice and gave us a ton of pamphlets on where to camp free in Texas and Arizona. One is about public hunting lands in Texas. Burt has already found a place with no limit on feral hogs and a limit of 25 on frogs. Free camping and all the food we can eat. Gene wants our trailer if we give up the road. We want to pick his brain if we get in a tight spot. His number is in our book under R for RVers.
Here’s a bunch of pictures. Happy 2010, Everyone!!!