Also known as “Shit! I Hit my Head Again Life!”. While the Wee Rover was getting her ‘heart transplant’, we rented a U-Haul van to give Van Life a try.
Pros:
My head is now bigger from hitting it so many times and Darrin says it knocked some sense into me (wishful thinking on his part).
You can sleep inside…good for Grizz Country.
We didn’t have to set-up a tent
More people than usual gave us weird looks…and a wide berth
It would have been nice if it had rained, but it was hot and dry.
Cons:
It is hot and stuffy
See 1 under Pros
It is claustrophobic
Did I mention my head?
Caveats:
We didn’t have a raised roof van
We didn’t have our fridge (had to use a cooler which was awful, our fridge was well worth the money)
We didn’t have any windows for ventilation
Etc., etc., etc…..
So, in conclusion…I don’t think we will be switching to a van any time soon…at least a U-Haul low roof van (I think I still have a few bumps on my head), but maybe we will try one of those fancy Sprinter vans someday😁.
Not bad space for a Uhaul. The cage at the front did make me feel a bit like an inmate…probably doesn’t come standard in a Sprinter Van.For $20 a day it was a steal considering we could sleep inside and drive around…like a motel and rental car all in one.
So D’s bud Mike gets him into hammock camping several years before we hit the road. The reports were that hammock camping was comfortable, with the following caveat…you have to fiddle, adjust, level, refiddle, readjust, relevel, over and over! Then if everything came together, it was super!
This week, we camped at a major launch point for raft trips on the Rogue River. Coming from a canoe camping background our first thought was how much crap they were piling onto each raft. The 40 mile trip, for a single rafter, from what we observed, may require: (2) 5 gallon jerry cans of water, instead of a simple water filter, a 4 inch thick waterproof mattress, cot, tent, chair, bbq, a couple of coolers, and several bins of food and gear…well you get the idea (aka ‘everything but the kitchen sink’ as one rafter told us laughing)!
All of this is piled on the beach, then the real fun starts. It seems, from our observations, that everything from the pile, must, go into, and out of the raft at least 3 times before the raft is ready to launch! In, out, lashed down, unlashed, removed, replaced, lashed down.
The people who we spoke with who were “really, into rafting” would start the process the night before. They would get the raft all set up as noted above, then repeat it all over again in the morning. The key take away was, on a raft that could carry 4 to 6 people, a single person can bring as much as they could pile on. On a river without any portages, that may not be too bad…no weeks of canoeing on pb&j for this crowd! Perhaps they have the right idea!
We pulled into a threadbare forest service campground near a river. Our hope was of finding an out of the way place to camp for a few days where we could cool off in the water to beat the 90+ degree heat. One of the five sites was occupied with what looked like a deserted homeless encampment. Two tents were hanging open, clothes strewn about the ground, assorted items on the picnic table, etc…We grabbed a site to ponder what to do? Stay or go? Then we found the beach! We jumped in the cool clear river and decided to stay!
Later in the afternoon a stick figure emerged from a tent in the transient campsite. My first impression was a young Charles Manson! No kidding! “Doc”, our nickname for him, was looking to bum a cigarette. We gave him some water instead, after which, he then spent 20 minutes giving us the lowdown on everything. Doc had issues, somewhat of a hair trigger, but seemed harmless. A family pulled in to swim and a youngish woman emerged from the same tent. She made a beeline for the family looking for water. Like a bee to a flower the “Hermit” only came out of the tent when a new car came in to ask for water. “Tiny” at close to 300 pounds, the leader of the group, the “Cougher”, and the “Nice One”, who we think was the “Hermit’s” sister, returned from town later in the day in an old beater. Five of them in the two tents, living on the fringe, but harmless.
The next morning we went swimming. Doc and Tiny were jumping off the rocks into the pools. The Cougher is coughing, the Hermit is hiding in the tent, and the Nice One is floating on a tube chatting away. Around noon, and swim number 3, a couple of large Hispanic families arrive, about 25 total. They set up sun shades, barbecues, and tables for an afternoon at the beach. A fun group. We chatted, swam, and had a fun day.
The next morning was almost a repeat with the exception that the group that arrived with the sunshades and barbecues were primarily skinhead white guys, kids, and moms with American Flag bikinis, and all were dropping the f-bomb every other word. Same as the day before, we swam, chatted, shot the bull about how nice it was there. Then we start to notice the tattoos…white power, swastikas, a few tear drops (from our understanding showing that they had killed a person). Everything was fine and we had another nice day, if a bit unsettling.
Another repeat the next day, except it was broad spectrum family day.
We also had a wide array of campers come and go from young teenage couples to a 12 year old overnight birthday party to a Macaw named Quiggley and a nice family from Utah.
What remained constant was how nice a spot it was to cool down in the beautiful river at the most interesting beach (and campground) yet.
The beach! The water was cool and crystal clear. Great for the 90+ heat.You can see the remnants of last year’s forest fire. This area was completely closed off last summer.The Black-tailed Deer are very friendly. This one is trying to see what the Stellar Jays found so interesting on the table.
The drive in should have been our first clue.The afternoon of day 2…not too bad.The afternoon of day 3. I’m starting to sense a pattern.We thought day 4 was going to take down our tent and tarps. The hail was giant marble size and came down with a fury. I am happy to report we survived with no damage!
While running the 100 miler, and other long distance running events, I had a recurring issue in the event and while training known as “The Wall”. It is when the body switches from burning glycogen from the liver for fuel to burning fat. That transition happens at about 18 miles into a run. I would, like clockwork, start whining, complain that I didn’t think I would make it, have to quit, etc…then, a mile or so further, it would pass and I would continue on for another 8.2, 30, or 80 miles depending on the run’s distance. The point is that it would happen every run at 18 miles like clock work. It is in the genes.
The 5 o’clock shadow, M and I, have surmised is in the genes as well. While living outside for an extended period of time, away from artificial lights, we have discussed a fleeting period, at the beginning of twilight, we have taken the call the 5 o’clock shadow. It is a time where the soul experiences moments of general unease, the heebeegeebies, or subtle waves of minor panic as the day shifts to night. The only thing we have come up with is a genetic evolutionary left over. Quick! Get inside! It’s getting dark! Something’s going to get you! And then it passes as suddenly as it came.
Only the Shadow knows.Life before fire? Run for the cave!!
From a distance, the heart carved into the tree makes me first think of young love. A pair of starry eyed teenagers pledging their love for all time under their favorite tree, something right out of a 1950’s movie, ahhhh…
And then close up, I feel anger that someone would hurt a tree by carving into its skin. How could someone be so thoughtless and inflict such pain on another living being…
And ultimately I am sad that the tree, or any other being, has to endure something so painful that isn’t their choice, something that causes them to continually weep…
A gentlemen we met a few weeks ago commented that we make a ‘nice camp’. This got us thinking of the difference between camping and making camp. It is a small difference, but a very important one to us since we pretty much live outside. In order to “live on the road”, we need to make the places we camp our home and so far our system/set-up works. As long as we have a small flat’ish spot, we are good to go. If it is buggy, we put up the screen room; if it is windy, we put up a few green panels; if it is cold, we put up all the green panels and the woodstove; and if it is raining or too sunny, we have the awnings …I guess we do make a ‘nice camp’ and that makes it possible for us to visit all these cool little out-of-the-way spots (we are currently camping 7 miles up in the Elkhorn Mountains next to a freezing cold stream below the remaining snowpack).
The screen room attached to the back awning gives us lots of hang-out room away from the little biters..New England version of the Beverly Hill Billies. All the awnings up and a green panel for extra shade.The 3 season room attached to the back awning with the woodstove going. Toasty warm!
And were completely humbled Hundreds of thousands of people Desperate, hopeful, unprepared, running away, running towards, ever westward 2,000 miles 6 months 10 to 20 miles walked every day Snow, rain, hail, scorching sun, wind Plains, rivers, mountains, plateaus Mud, dust, ruts, rocks Rattlesnakes, buffalo, antelope, bears Cholera Indians 20% died…in some areas a grave every 80 yards Dead and abandoned animals all along the way
These are the people of the Westward Migration, the Oregon Trail, the California settlement, and eventually the gold fever
Today, we visited the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center outside Baker City, Oregon. We actually walked a small section of the trail. It is mind blowing what they endure and conquered for a piece of land to call their own.
6 months, your family and all your possessions inside 1 tiny wagon. Many possessions thought to be essential were abandoned along the way as the hardships of daily life on the trail became a reality. Miles to go. Parts of the trail are still visible and walkable today.The Oregon Trail Interpretive Center is a well thought out and informative museum.Oh my who do we have here?Ever westward.
We are sitting in a beautiful meadow at 6,000ft wild camping. Yesterday, we had our down jackets on as a liner for our wool overcoats with spitting snow. This solstice evening it’s warm, the fire is going, and dinner is cooking. We put some Credence Clearwater Revival on as we wait for dinner. No sooner than the mellow tunes drift quietly over the campsite and we are visited by a mama mule deer. She strolls right into the edge of our camp, stands there for a couple of minutes watching us and listening to CCR! Then she turns and strolls back into the forest. We heard the echo of…Credence! I Love Credence!
We also hit the mother lode of pine pitch fire starter! We spent a little time this afternoon gathering oozing pitch from the Ponderosa Pine covering our little meadow. We then cooked it down into a soup can ready for our next years worth of campfires!
