Land of O'Keefe

We are at the Corps of Engineers campground at Abiquiu Lake (map), off US-84.

While we were really enjoying our stay in the Carson forest at higher elevations, we'd pretty much run out of fresh food. We wanted to spend at least a night in the red rock country, and so we thought we'd use our last day's rations somewhere around here. We broke camp in the early afternoon, and headed south.

US-84 heads downgrade rather rapidly along this section, and while that was easy on our diesel supply, the temperatures increased with every mile we drove. By the time we reached Echo Amphitheater it was well into the 90s. There is a small Forest Service campground there, with tables, fire rings, trash barrels, and rest rooms for $10 per night. A lovely spot in the red rock, but with temperatures still rising, we wanted power to run the air conditioners. As a side note, the folks at the Chama visitor center had told us camping was no longer allowed here -- wrong.

We did walk the paved trail to the "amphitheater" itself, a concave formation in the sandstone that lives up to its name. While the day use area was quite busy, with perhaps half a dozen vehicles coming through in the fifteen minutes or so that we were there, the camping area was empty. I should note that the Forest Service charges a day use fee to see the formation (our annual pass waives this), although stopping just to use the rest room is free.

A few miles further south is the turnoff for Ghost Ranch, which we skipped principally on account of their pet policy. This is where readers Kate and Terry are hosting, and the red rock formations form a magnificent backdrop to the area. We continued south to the lake, where we knew we would find power.

As it turns out, only two electric sites were available when we arrived; the camp hosts told us the place had been jam-packed over the weekend, making our decision Saturday to wait it out a good one. $14 bought us 50 amps of power and a water spigot, along with the usual CoE amenities (picnic table, ramada, fire ring, BBQ grill, and the trademark CoE lantern hanger). They also have restrooms with hot showers. With 50-amps were were able to put a good soak onto the batteries even while running our full complement of air conditioners, which were needed right up until bed time, when we were able to open up the windows.

With temperatures in the high 90s, I was looking forward to perhaps jumping in the lake, but it is not really accessible here from the campground (although there is something of a trail from the tent-only loop, a scramble down the bluff to the lake some 100' below). I rode the scooter over to the day use area, which is quite some distance, and there is easy access to the water there. Unfortunately, on a hot Sunday afternoon, it seemed like half the population of the Santa Fe region is here at the lake cooling off -- there were several dozen boat trailers, and well over a hundred cars scattered around the day use area. It did not seem like a pleasant way to swim.

I also rode over the dam and back, then down the downstream face on a series of switchbacks to access the Chama river downstream. Here, too, was a day use picnic area with river access, but, again, it was chock full of families on their Sunday outing, including one family gathering that looked to be well over fifty people. I gave up on swimming yesterday, and decided that, if I still felt like it today, we'd take Odyssey over to the day use area after checking out of the campground at noon.

We had figured to have canned rations or maybe pasta for dinner, but after we got the dish up I discovered that there is a small hotel with a café another seven miles down the road in Abiquiu, and so we rode down there two-up for a nice dinner. No liquor license, though, so we had to suffer without our customary glass of red wine. Part of the inn is given to an art gallery and gift shop -- you can't spend any time in this area at all without tripping over art, and particularly Georgia O'Keefe tributes.

Today we will continue south along the Chama, right back through Abiquiu, and then west a bit to Los Alamos, where we will likely stay at the Elks lodge, with the Juniper campground in Bandelier National Monument as a backup option.

While we were in the cooler elevations of the forest, I spent a good part of our three days there getting projects knocked off my list. On Saturday I decided to tackle the rear leveler actuator, which crapped out nearly a year ago, reducing our front-to-back leveling travel by half and thus limiting us to less tilty sites for that time. Fixing the actuator is a fairly large project that I always dread (I've repaired this particular leveler four times now), and I've been waiting for the combination of relative privacy, temperate weather, and a whole day with no agenda to tackle it.

What is involved is to chock the wheels, fold up the mud flap, then shinny in between the drive wheels and the tag wheel on the curb side. Any time I am under the bus with my legs sticking out between the wheels I am nervous, with my heart and breathing rates up; the need for relative privacy has to do with a somewhat (but only a little bit) irrational fear that someone is going to run over my legs driving past us.

Once underneath, I then need to reach a bolt that is three feet above the ground, with not one but two wrenches. So I end up doing abdominal crunches for part of the work, and propping myself up by my head against the brake cylinder for the rest. During part of the process, air starts coming out of the suspension bags, adding to the anxiety. And, of course, this area is one of the dirtiest parts of the bus, with grease and oil slung off the propeller shaft combined with road grime kicked up by the drive wheels.

At some point I slithered back out from under the wheels with the cantankerous linear actuator in my hands, and brought it inside to work on the single broken wire that occasioned this whole repair. Louise remarked that the grime speckling my face and sprinkled in my hair made me look vaguely like a Māori warrior, and she insisted on snapping a photo.



Somewhere in the middle of this I conked the middle of my back on a sharp part of the bus, and between being sore from that, and having done more abdominal crunches in the span of an hour than I normally do all year, I am one sore puppy today -- more so even than yesterday. It hurts when I stand up, and when I sit down. I am hoping that, by tomorrow, I will be in good enough shape to actually walk around Los Alamos a bit.

Ahhh... boondocking in the cool forest

We are parked in a clearing off a dirt road in the Carson National Forest (map), half a mile or so from US-84, just south of Cebolla. Again, we are at the green arrow, not the red balloon -- I'm still annoyed with Google for changing their map format. Darned free services -- you can't complain to anyone about them.

Yesterday we had a nice scenic drive through the northwestern strip of the Carson, followed by the Jicarilla Apache Nation (at whose casino, down on 550 east of Counselors, we once stayed), across the continental divide, and into Chama, where we stopped at the visitor center.

Chama is the western terminus of the Cumbres & Toltec narrow-gauge, steam-powered scenic railroad, and we got some information about it at the visitor center. I'd heard about this trip before, and we decided to make the drive a mile north into town to check it out. We inquired about parlor car seats for today's trip, and, had they been available, we would likely have spent two nights at the RV park in town so we could enjoy a ride over to Antonito, Colorado (with return by bus). Unfortunately, the parlor car was sold out, and we did not relish a four hour ride in an open coach, so we decided to skip it. The train from Antonito pulled in just as we walked out of the historic station, so we at least got to see it. We high-tailed it out of the parking lot before the train unloaded -- the train was full, and we could see getting stuck there until the lot emptied out.

After driving through the touristy little downtown (the train is the only thing keeping Chama alive -- all the businesses we saw on the outskirts were boarded up), and stopping for supplies at the lone grocery store, we continued south through Tierra Amarilla to here. Our guides showed several stopping options further south, but this seemed to be our highest elevation opportunity, at 7,700'. Between the elevation and the partial tree cover, it has been relatively cool since we arrived, topping out in the mid-80s.

This is a great spot. Clearly well used, with three or four fire rings scattered around, and someone even built a privy of sorts a couple hundred feet from here. Yet there is only a modest amount of trash, and only a dozen or so vehicles have passed on the dirt road since we arrived. We are well back from the road, obscured by trees, so we have a great deal of privacy. It would make a great group site, as well, with room for maybe half a dozen rigs scattered around. To our north is a view out over the agricultural valley below.

There is an abundance of firewood here, and I grilled lamb last night and steak tonight over an open fire. Other than some lingering projects around the bus, we've had a relaxing day, and we will be here at least two nights. Tomorrow we will decide if we want to move on, or spend a third night in this lovely spot.

This morning we had a visit from reader Kate of Cholula Red fame. They are camp hosting at Ghost Ranch, about 20 miles south of here, and when she saw we were in the neighborhood, inquired about getting together. No pets allowed at Ghost Ranch, though, so I suggested she come up here. We had a nice visit.

From here, whenever we decide to leave, we will continue south toward Santa Fe. We might stop somewhere in between -- there is a Corps of Engineers site at Abiquiu Lake, and several more Forest Service opportunities on either side of it.

Passing gas on BLM land

We are parked on a large turn-out for a natural gas wellhead, off a dirt road on BLM land just west of the Carson National Forest (map). This spot has been used by campers before -- there is a stone fire ring about 150' from the wellhead.

While having a wellhead, condensate separator and tanks, and containment berm more or less in our campsite (where we catch the occasional whiff of sweet condensate vapor) is less than ideal, this is otherwise a perfect spot. We are on a hilltop with a 270° panoramic view of the forest and the valley below for Gobernador Wash. 100' from camp is a rock outcropping from which we can see the whole valley, with US-64 running through it. Other than the road, and half a dozen distant wellheads painted forest green, there are no visible signs of civilization. It was incredibly quiet last night, with only bright moonlight dispelling complete darkness, and the occasional sound of gas from, I think, a relief valve someplace.

The only traffic on this road has been a handful of trucks belonging to the pipeline and wellhead service folks, and this morning a tanker came by this very site to collect the separated water. We've seen fleets of these trucks all through the valley -- I'm guessing this is a very wet reservoir, and they need to collect condensate and water frequently. The entire region is rich in gas -- we remember seeing wellheads and condensate tanks from Angel Peak, and the only thing Stewart & Stevenson in Farmington was working on, besides our bus, was a selection of giant Waukesha natural-gas engines used to run field compressors (the engines run off their own well or pipeline gas).

Notwithstanding the giant tank of inflammable hydrocarbons 50 yards away, we made a small campfire last night, and cooked our steak on some of the juniper that is in abundance here. We mostly sat outside during the daylight -- here at 6,500' the outside temperature was very pleasant, perhaps 80° or so, while the relentless sun on the bus made it somewhat uncomfortable to be inside. After the sun went down, and outside temperatures dropped into the 60's, it was easy to keep things cool just with the fans.

It has been a pleasant stay, but we are ready to move on. We are grateful to ConocoPhillips and their service companies for putting a road here, without which we would have no access to this beautiful spot. Natural gas extraction, at least, is a resource usage with minimal impact on either the scenery or the recreational opportunities on public land.

Yesterday was an early morning for us, rolling back into the shop at 7am. At least we had turned in rather early Tuesday night, after a tasty dinner at Bernardone's Italian restaurant a short walk from Wal-Mart -- an order-at-the-counter affair with a nice dining room, a selection of wines, and attentive service from owner Mario Bernardone and his staff. A great recommendation from our mechanic, Micky, at S&S.

Speaking of whom, once on the lifts he quickly found our transmission fluid to be leaking from the speedometer sensor, and only a few minutes and a new O-ring was required. He then spent the next hour or so sitting on that very transmission, through the hatch under the bed, to fit a new gasket behind the air compressor. We found nary a drop of oil in the wet tank, and so decided to simply replace the gasket without changing compressors.

S&S billed us for a little over three hours, plus the gaskets. The exhaust clamp was a take-off from a used engine they had in the shop, so they didn't bill us for it. We were out of there by 10:30 or so, only $350 poorer, which is, I think, the least I have ever spent at a Detroit distributor. It was a much more causal and relaxed place than their cousins down in Albuquerque, and next time we need service in New Mexico, we will keep them in mind.

Thus obviating the need to continue to Albuquerque, we opted to continue east on US-64 rather than turn south on US-550. We will take this all the way to Tierra Amarilla, where US-84 will take us into Santa Fe.

Repairs in Farmington

Quick update tonight -- we have a very early morning tomorrow. We are at the Wal-Mart in Farmington, NM (map).

Let me start by saying that when we were in Salt Lake, I had planned out a route that would take us in to Santa Fe, staying in the higher elevations to keep cool, yet moving us ever closer to I-40 in the event we get called to a disaster by the Red Cross. However, we've had an oil leak for the last few weeks that has been getting progressively worse, leaving perhaps a teaspoon of oil every place we park. Additionally, I have been feeling like we are lower on power, making more black smoke, and running hotter than normal on the grades, all symptoms we have seen before, and they've never led to anything good.

We remembered that the last low-power, black-smoke, high-temperature incident got resolved at Stewart & Stevenson in Albuquerque, and, though it meant staying in hotter weather at relatively lower elevations, we have been making our way to Albuquerque instead of Santa Fe. That also keeps us off some of the really big Rocky Mountain grades until we have this figured out.

When we left Sleeping Ute RV Park this morning, we had our sights set on a nice boondocking spot we remembered from our last trek through the New Mexico badlands, at a high enough elevation to escape some of the heat. The route brought us south out of Colorado and the Ute reservation on US-491 (formerly 666), making a left at Shiprock in the Navajo Nation onto US-64, which brought us here to Farmington. We intended to continue east to Bloomfield, where we would have turned south onto familiar US-550.

When we arrived here in Farmington, signs directed trucks off US-64 onto a bypass, which we elected to take, and no sooner had we turned then we saw a familiar sign -- Stewart & Stevenson. I had forgotten they had a Farmington branch, but we remembered that Albuquerque was incredibly busy (they had first refused to see us any sooner than a week the last time we were there, and we had to pull strings to get in) and rather impersonal -- this much smaller branch looked more inviting, and so we pulled in.

After explaining the situation to the lead mechanic, they were able to pull us right in to a bay. I pointed out some soot that I had been noticing on the exhaust blankets, and it did not take them long to track down an exhaust leak between the manifold and the turbo -- this would certainly account for low power, black smoke, and higher temperatures. An hour and one clamp later, that was taken care of. The oil leak was another matter.

As I feared, it was coming from someplace above the right front of the engine, which is where the air compressor and power steering pump live. To access those, I had to open the hatch under the bed. Once in there, they determined that oil was seeping out around a shared gasket for those two items. A discussion ensued about possibly replacing the air compressor with a rebuilt, as long as we had to pull it to change the gasket, and we will make a decision on this tomorrow.

Unfortunately, we also discovered that some of what we are leaking, actually more so than engine oil, is transmission fluid. To track that down, we will have to be up on the lifts, and we ran out of day (seeing as we rolled in close to 3:00 to begin with).

So tomorrow we are due back at the shop, just a quarter mile from here, at 0700, whereupon we will go up on the lifts to have a look at the tranny, as well as draining the wet tank to see if there is any oil blowing in there from the compressor. I'm figuring to be there all day, and we'll be there again Thursday if we decide to replace the compressor, or if parts are needed for the transmission.

Let Sleeping Utes lie

Photo by alexandralee

We are at the Ute Mountain Casino RV park (map), off 491 south of Cortez, Colorado and in the shadow of Sleeping Ute Mountain.

It was a very short drive here from our nice digs on the Dolores, only an hour. But we needed to dump and fill, and do laundry, and this place fit the bill for all of that, plus we got 50 amps of power for $23, which was handy to run the A/C's since it was 95° when we arrived. We also have access to the pool, sauna (why bother when it's 95° out?) and hot tub.

I would have spent yesterday afternoon in the pool, but instead I spent it outside working on the bay door. Just about the last thing I did before we left Bradfield yesterday, during my walk-around inspection, was to try to put the BBQ tongs away -- they live in the BBQ, in the "wet" bay, but I had brought them in after dinner to wash them. When I went to open the door, three of the four latches released, but the fourth wouldn't budge. It was already check-out time (2pm), so I threw the tongs back inside, pushed on the door till the other three latches latched, and we headed out.

I'll spare you all the gory details, but suffice it to say that bay door latches fail occasionally because one of the critical parts is a small plastic clip that holds a steel operating rod into a steel operating lever. Those parts are now 25+ years old, and so they are brittle and occasionally break. I can not get new ones. When they break, I have to do unnatural acts to get the rod to stay mated to the lever. But the real problem is that access to all of this is from the inside of the door, so first you need to find a way to get to the errant lever to release the latch. On a passenger bus, you's just open the bay door on the other side and crawl through, but on Odyssey, this bay is full of built-in water tanks, so getting to the lever was a 2+ hour challenge.

Now that the bay door is fixed, the laundry is done, the water tanks are full, and the batteries are charged, we have just two tasks left. This morning's project is to defrost the fridge, while we still have our power hookup. After the 11am checkout, we will use the dump station, and be on our way, continuing south on 491 on our way, generally, towards Albuquerque. If I'm quick with the heat gun, I might even get a few minutes in the pool before checkout.

This was a pleasant enough stop, and the price was right. The casino and RV park seem to be staffed completely by tribe members, which is something we like to see. However, apparently customer service is not a long-standing Ute cultural value -- the RV park clerk seemed put out when we walked up to buy a space, annoyed we were interrupting her TV show. When we asked for a different space, she rolled her eyes and stomped through the process. In the restaurant, we waited several minutes while the hostess blithely chatted with the cashier about nothing, failing to notice us standing there. The waitress was uncommunicative, and dinner took a looong time to arrive. At least the food was decent and inexpensive, and portions were generous on menu items -- there is also a buffet option. It's a dry res, though, so no wine with dinner.

The horsey set

We are at the Bradfield Recreation Site campground, on the Dolores River (map), east of Cahone, Colorado. At an elevation of 6,500', it is remarkably cool here in the riparian zone, a marked contrast from the arid desert at 4,900' that we left mid-day yesterday.

There are a couple dozen sites here with picnic tables and fire rings. There are also a handful of vault toilets, and water is available from hand-pumps scattered around. The fee is only $8, and it looks to be only very lightly used. We made our check out to the BLM, who manages recreation along this stretch of the Dolores, but apparently the Forest Service once claimed this campground, and has a better write-up (we are at the edge of the San Juan National Forest). The Bradfields were ranchers who lived on this land at the turn of last century -- remains of their homestead can be seen across the river, and the remains of a horse-powered hay hoist are a short walk from our site.

We chose the single site furthest from the rest of the campground, with direct river access. The upside was that it was a short walk to the river yesterday afternoon for a refreshing swim, where by "refreshing" I mean colder than the Colorado. Still I was able to get in all the way in a section that was perhaps 4' deep, just upstream of the riffle across from our site where it is possible to walk across the river in just ankle-deep water.

We were also able to put our chairs in the water there and enjoy a pleasant glass of wine with our feet in the river. The only sound we heard last night was the water running over the rocks, and there are no lights here.

The downside to this spot is that the river access here is also for day use, and both yesterday and today a number of pickups have come by to collect tubers from the river, who likely put in upstream at the Bradfield bridge. Also, there are equestrian trails across the river, and the horse outfitters park across from us, unload the animals, and cross the river at the aforementioned riffle. Great to watch, but one annoying bunch rolled in this morning and took over our picnic table, even parking a car in our site. The outfitters said nothing to their charges -- I had to go out and ask the offender to move his car.



Yes, that's our picnic table.

Now that we've had a full day at this elevation to cool down, we feel ready to move on south, where we know it will only get hotter. We'll roll through Cortez on our way to the Ute Mountain reservation, where there is a casino with RV hookups -- we need to dump and fill, and I expect the power will come in handy to run the A/C's. They also have a laundry, of which we have need.

Independence (from crowds) Day

We are parked at the Creek Pasture primitive BLM campground along Indian Creek, just outside the Needles district of Canyonlands National Park (map).

This area consists of about ten unnumbered sites, with stone fire rings and picnic tables, and one site even has a BBQ grill. There is no water, no trash collection, no rest room, and no fee. There are also no other campers -- we are the only ones here, other than the song dogs and the lizards. There is evidence of cattle, as well, but we have seen none thus far. It is very much like dispersed camping, just with picnic tables added.

This morning we decided to move along from our cozy digs at Goose Island, across the river from Arches, mostly because we were done with the park, done with Moab, and the forecast said it would climb into the upper 90s today, getting hotter still in the next couple of days. We figured to be somewhere close to or in Cortez, Colorado this evening where the forecast only called for 86° or so.

So we emptied the hot tub, stowed the scooters and chairs, and generally got Odyssey ready to roll by just after the noon check-out time. By then it was at least 90°, and I was pretty heated up from working outside packing up the tub and loading the gear, and the river started to look very inviting. Knowing that the place generally has not filled up or even gotten very busy until sometime after 6pm each night, I figured an extra half hour for a swim would not be an imposition. I stuck close to the bank -- the current gets faster than I can swim just a few feet out -- but fortunately the bottom drops off rapidly and I was able to get fully immersed without being swept away.

We were on the road by just after 1:00, rolling casually through downtown Moab and south on 191. In between scenic vistas and bites of lunch, Louise pored over our extensive collection of guide books looking for overnight options in the middle of a holiday weekend, with the Cortez Elks lodge being our fall-back option.

It's a steady climb south out of Moab, from around 4,200' to over 6,000', and pushing a 24-ton bus up 5%-7% grades in the summer heat is hard work, and slow going. One need keep an eye on the coolant temperature the whole time, downshifting to keep the fan speeds up, and generally slowing down into the 40-mph range for the hard parts. The reward, though, was a several-degree drop in outside temperatures, back into the 80s, as we got further up.

And so it was that, as we spotted the sign for the turnoff to this part of Canyonlands, that we decided to pull off the highway and see what our options might be along the entrance road (not wanting to risk Squaw Flat Campground, inside the park, being full). Had we really thought about it earlier, we might have looked up the BLM options ahead of time on the Internet, but we really were just not thinking along those lines. Fortunately, there was a paper sign in the information kiosk at the turn-off, indicating several options on the way to the park:



There was also a separate display discussing Newspaper Rock, about half way to the park, which indicated that some free primitive camping was available there. We decided to head down 211 towards the park, in the hopes that one of these might be the perfect spot to wait out the holiday weekend.



One of the other consequences of not having thought this through ahead of time is that we soon realized we were giving up a good deal of our hard-won elevation gain as we headed west, prompting us to wonder if we wouldn't end up right back down in the heat at the ~4,000' level, only to have to chug back up the same grade when we were done. Fortunately, we were still up at 5,400' when we pulled in to the parking area for the Newspaper Rock. The road had been empty, as was the parking lot for the petroglyphs, which gave us hope that we would find a nice site at this elevation, and without having to drive another dozen or two miles towards the National Park.

Those hopes were dashed when I walked the quarter mile further down the road to what looked like the camping turn-off. The road was blocked by sandstone boulders, and a small sign was posted saying the area was closed due to flash-flooding in 2003 and ongoing flooding risk and riparian restoration. Harumph -- if they were going to close this all off, the least they could have done would have been to update the sign back at the turn-off from 191. I blame inter-agency coordination, or lack thereof -- the rock is a state park, but the camping area was BLM, and it is this latter agency that mandated the closure.

While we were still in the parking area, I used my handy DeLorme Topo USA program to check the elevation profile of the rest of the route -- it would descend back down to 4,900' before ending up at the NPS campground back at 5,200'. We did drive very slowly for the next mile, in the futile hope that there might be a site or two on the other side of the roadway from the river, but no dice (and, of course, I had not yet seen the notice I linked above). In for a penny, in for a pound, and, having come this far, we decided to press on, all the way to the park if need be.

We did turn off at Bridger Jack Mesa, which was a closer stop as well as a higher elevation, to see how bad it might be -- the posted Park Service flyer said it was "high-clearance 2wd," but our Benchmark atlas showed it as normal clearance, and it looked well-graded to us. Besides, the flyer also said it would be a right turn off 211, yet it was actually a left, and we also know the NPS is ultra-conservative about such things -- witness the untruthfully low campground length "limits" and the anxiety-signage on some of their paved roads.

The road was actually in great shape, but, true to the flyer, it crosses a running creek. Notwithstanding our impressive puddle-jumping track record, we decided it was not worth the risk without knowing what we'd find two miles in. We managed to get turned back around, and continued on, landing here, at what happens to be the lowest spot (4,800') on the whole route. Go figure. We later learned that there were plenty of available sites at Squaw Flat, up at 5,200', but we are just as happy to be here all alone, and as a bonus we don't have to haul 24 tons back up, then down the extra 400' and 15 miles. Plus, it's free, whereas the NPS wants $15 per night for dry camping -- although they have great rest rooms (which we, of course, don't need).

After we got settled in and on-line, and pulled the scooters out, we had an early dinner and then headed up to the park to catch the formations in late-afternoon sunlight, often the best time for viewing. Unfortunately, as we arrived at the park, dark clouds and rain started moving in from the west, depriving us of the very light we hoped for as well as getting us a bit wet in the process.



Nevertheless, we rode all the paved roads in this section of the park, including around the campground loops. Once again we found that Odyssey would have no trouble with perhaps 80% of the camp sites, despite a nominal 28' limit. Even on this holiday weekend, the campground was only about half full, which speaks volumes about how remote this park really is.



At one point, we chose to sit under a big rock to avoid the rain.

The weather cleared up completely just as we were leaving, so we at least got to see some of the more easterly formations nicely illuminated. On our way out we took the small turn-off for the "Needles Outpost," a private campground/store/gas station just outside the park boundary, which claimed to serve food as well. When we rolled up at 7:30ish, the place was closed, and, frankly, I couldn't tell if that was for the day, for the season, or forever (well, OK, we saw merchandise through the window, so they're probably open sometime, but with no hours posted, we couldn't tell when). We're glad we did not roll up there hoping for dinner.

We hope you all had a wonderful Fourth -- ours was dark and quiet, not a firework in sight or earshot. And as we rest here peacefully tonight on America's public lands, we can reflect on how blessed we are to live in this place of freedom and, yes, Independence.

Arches by Scooter

We are at the Goose Island BLM campground (map), along the Colorado River about four miles from Moab and Arches National Park.

We left the Willow Flat campground in Canyonlands yesterday morning, and stopped at the Mesa Arch trailhead on our way out of the park, taking the half-mile loop to this impressive formation. I even walked across it, which is surprising given my acrophobia and the several-hundred foot dropoff on either side.



It was less than an hour's drive to Arches National Park, where, unsurprisingly, the sign at the entrance said the campground was full. We inquired anyway, eliciting a snippy response from the ranger about the campground being full year-round. Given that nearly half the spaces are unreservable first-come, first-served only, it's not really an unreasonable question. A more helpful response might have been to let us know by what time of the morning the unreservable spaces are normally sold.

It was early afternoon, and after poking around the visitor center, we debated leaving Odyssey in the parking lot there, which had several large spaces for buses and RVs, and seeing what we could of the park in the afternoon on the scooters. It was fairly warm by then, in the 90s, and since the forecast had said it would be cooler today, we opted instead to find a spot to park, and return in the morning. In hindsight, we should have stayed, because it was mostly overcast yesterday, whereas today turned out to be brutally sunny.

Nevertheless, we proceeded here to Goose Island, the first BLM campground along 128, just four miles from the park. I was a little surprised it was not full -- when we pulled in around 2-ish, several prime riverfront sites were still available. We got parked, paid for two nights at $12 each, and decided to set up the hot tub, given the unlimited supply of river water.

It takes a couple of hours to inflate the tub, set up the river pump, and fill it with water, depending on "lift." The Colorado lives up to its name here, a muddy reddish-brown and full of suspended particulates -- I had to wade into the river more than once to clean off the intake screen, and the water in the tub is still so brown you can't see the bottom. Also, I think the fresh 10-micron filter I put in the hot tub pump is already fairly clogged.

So it was that at nearly 5pm we were still outside "setting up camp," which was just about to include staking down our patio mat, which spans the gap between the front door and the tub. That's when the temperature dropped from ~95 right down into the 80s, the sky grew dark, and several 30-40mph gusts of wind blew through the campground. Our chairs blew over, and only the two of us jumping on it kept the mat from blowing away, although the dog managed to get rolled up in it like one of those cocktail wieners. Also, a whole pile of fine gritty dust blew into everything we owned, including my eyes containing hard contact lenses. Louise finished stuffing the mat into the cockpit while I went upstairs to pry my eyes back open and get the contacts out.

No sooner did I have them out then I heard Louise scream from a dozen yards away. The word was simply "NO!" but the scream told me something very big was wrong -- the kind of tone that's used when, say, the awning is ripping off the side of the coach, or the cat gets run over. So I jammed my glasses on and ran outside to find her bolting through the campground upriver.

It turned out that the tent from the site next to ours, whose owner/occupants were out someplace for the afternoon, had been caught by the wind and sent 50 yards upstream and into the river. It immediately began floating downstream in the very fast current here, and promptly snagged on some old tamarisk roots jutting into the river -- unreachable from solid ground ashore.

I was still in my swimsuit and flip-flops from having to wade into the river earlier, and so I climbed out onto a protruding but sawed-off section of tamarisk trunk (all the tamarisks were chopped down here, or killed by introduced beetles, in the last couple of years, part of a program to abate non-native species in the area), where I was able to get my hand on it. Unfortunately, it had already started to sink and was heavy from being water-logged, as well as still snagged on some protruding roots, and I could barely heft it up -- yet it was clear to me that if I let go, the swift river would take it in short order. I was just beginning to make progress when the tamarisk I was standing upon gave way and I started plunging toward the river.

Louise was able to grab me within the first foot or two of my fall, as I released the tent and lunged off the stump for shore, but the tent (and the tamarisk) went into the river and were quickly swept away by the current.

We ran downstream to our own site, where I waded in again and watched carefully as the tent came within feet of my position, sinking the whole time. It went under completely just as I grabbed for it, and I ended up neck-deep in water (still in my shirt) trying to snag it, but it was too late -- with no way to see under the muddy water, the channel deep, and the current swift, there was nothing to be done. At least it was still warm enough out that I hardly noticed the 68° water (as measured by our tub thermometer while we were filling it), but when I finally climbed back out I realized I had a pretty good scrape up my leg from when the stump let go.

All we could do was leave a note for the poor folks, and we also put one of our orange cones in their site, which now looked vacant. They rolled in about an hour later and we chatted -- they decided to drive to Moab and buy another tent. Fortunately, they said the tent was empty. I had feared that perhaps sleeping bags or some personal items might have been inside.

The storm blew over quickly, and we took the scooters out and rode off to town for dinner, at Buck's. We left the chairs folded and the patio mat stowed, in case it got blustery again. I picked up my cone when we got back, and someone in a class-C nearly stole their space, prompting me to put it right back. They did finally show back up with a new tent just after sunset.

We also ended up being the Goose Island Hardware Store yesterday, as the Kiwi couple across from us asked for an axe to cut up some kindling (no axe, but I lent them the chain saw), and the French guys three sites down borrowed my engineer hammer during the storm to stake their tent down, along with some other hapless campers'.



This morning, we slathered up with sunscreen and headed back to the park on the scooters. We managed to cover all the paved roads, including the loop through Tantalus' campground, located, appropriately, at the Devil's Garden. I would say Odyssey would easily fit in over half the sites, 30' limit notwithstanding. We did a couple of short walks to scenic overlooks as well, but this is not the weather for serious hiking in the park, and we opted instead to view most of the formations from a respectable distance with our hefty binoculars.



I figure we did around 60 miles to, from, and around the park, and, added to the 25+ we did in Canyonlands, we nearly coasted back into Moab on fumes. We ended up nursing our little one-gallon tanks along for the last 15 miles in the park, somewhat to the annoyance of some of the 10-parks-in-7-days crowd occasionally stuck behind us.

We plan another dinner in town this evening, and a departure sometime mid-day tomorrow, south on 191. Although the current weather is tempting us to look into raft trips on the Colorado, which might extend us a day here if there is even any availability on this holiday weekend.

Absolutely breathtaking

We are at the Willow Flat NPS campground at Island in the Sky, Canyonlands National Park, Utah (map). And I will note here that Google changed the way these maps work a couple weeks ago -- we are at the green arrow, not the red balloon. I liked them better the old way.

The Island in the Sky region is quite aptly named. We are at 6,000' or so, with a 1,000'+ drop-off all around us. Just a couple hundred yards from our campsite is an overlook from which we can see all the way down to the Green River (which is actually brown, just as it was back in the eponymous town), as well as a vast swath of canyon and miles and miles of the White Rim.

Several features are accessible from the dozen or so miles of paved road, and yesterday evening we took the scooters out and rode to Upheaval Dome, apparently a meteoric impact crater at the western end of the "island" and accessible via a steep ¼ mile trail. We also rode out the other direction to Grand View with a panoramic view of canyons in all directions except back towards the entrance road. The late afternoon light brought many features into an interesting relief, unfortunately, our little point-and-shoot camera just can not do justice to these sorts of panoramas. In fact, we had to use our 7x30 binoculars to peer into some of the vast distances.

We perhaps came just a day too soon, as it was close to 90° when we arrived, whereas today is overcast and cooler after some showers last night. Between the high ambient temperatures and the engine bay being very hot from the long climb, the generator would not stay running and we had to get by with just one air conditioner running from the batteries until everything had cooled down considerably.

Later today we will head back down the hill and to Arches National Park, where it was insufferably hot yesterday, but is somewhat cooler today and expected to be cooler still tomorrow. We are hoping for a camp site at Desert View, but that might be tricky considering one must first select and pay for the site at the entrance station, some 18 miles from the campground, and there is nominally a 30' limit.

The limit here at Willow Flat is actually 28', but the space we are in is easily twice as long as Odyssey, and there are at least two other spaces here that would have fit us. Here, however, it was a matter first of choosing a site, then paying for it at an iron ranger. We had also checked with a (human) ranger back at the visitor center, who told us we were welcome to try and that he thought there were a few spaces where we'd fit (in contrast, say, to the folks at Mather in the Grand Canyon, or the ones at Organ Pipe). We are hoping the rangers at Arches will be similarly helpful, and that the campground is not already sold out due to the holiday weekend.

There are only 12 spaces here at Willow Flat, and our backup plan was Horse Thief campground on BLM land off the entrance road, which was completely empty when we checked it out on the way in. Similarly, our backup plan for tonight is the Elks lodge in Moab.

Back on the road

We are at the A/OK RV park in Green River, Utah (map).

You might notice that AOK is KOA backwards, and, indeed, this park was once a KOA, with the unmistakable A-frame office architecture and the standard KOA pool, which here has been turned into a koi pond with murky water, vaguely reminiscent of a scene from Y tu mamá también.



This is an odd choice for us, and the park is not even listed in any of our directories. It is more or less across the street from Green River State Park, which was our intended destination. While the state park is very lovely, it was 96° when we arrived yesterday at 5pm or so, and they have no hookups. Faced with paying $16 for the night, yet still having to run the generator for five or six hours to keep the air conditioning on, we opted instead to cross the street and get a 30-amp hookup for $20.

There is also a newer KOA in town, along with one or two other commercial parks, with rates probably closer to $40. This place was fine -- it's a bit off the main road (likely one of the reasons KOA abandoned it), and we were one of only three transient rigs here last night. There are also perhaps half a dozen long-term rentals, in a park designed for a hundred or so spaces. It was quiet and dark, a stark contrast from the KOA in Salt Lake, which was full to capacity every night, with lots of traffic at all hours, a childrens' park atmosphere ever-present at the pool, and enough street lighting to force us to close the windows if we wanted it dark enough to sleep.

Speaking of which, we left that KOA yesterday at the noon check-out time. Our conference ended Sunday evening, and we had planned to leave Monday, but when we learned that good friends from the SF bay area would be passing through and staying downtown Monday, we extended by one night so we could meet them for dinner, thus "bracketing" our Salt Lake stay with visits from friends.

The Salt Lake KOA gave us that final night gratis, after I complained about my experience in the pool on Wednesday. At the risk of turning your stomach, let's just say that someone defecated in the pool and somehow I ended up in the water before the pool got cleaned and shock-treated (although, IMO, they really should have drained it completely to disinfect it). Suffice it to say I went directly to the shower to, umm, disinfect in a scene reminiscent of Silkwood (apparently my day for movie metaphors). We opted to skip any further use of the pool for the remainder of our stay -- a shame, really, in 90+ temperatures.


Photo by Groovnick

We go on the on-call list with the Red Cross for hurricane season today, and so we decided to start moving generally southeast, sending us further into the oven. We opted to come down US-6 and perhaps spend a little time in Canyonlands and/or Arches national parks, which is the direction we will head in a few minutes. It's going to push 100° today, so I foresee some generator time this afternoon.

Fuzzy Friday: Ladders Optional

On Fridays I write about our pets

The ladder may be optional, but apparently the complaining is mandatory.

Going down to the River of Jordan

Time for just a very quick update here...

We are at the Salt Lake City KOA (map), a quick scooter ride from the Salt Palace Convention Center, and theoretically right on the Jordan (although I haven't seen it). Long time readers know that we detest KOA, and when I have more time, I will post why this one is no exception (in the meantime -- if you come here, stay out of the pool). However, this is literally the closest legal RV parking to the convention center, and so we just had to suck it up for the duration. At least we have 50 amps of power, which has been handy in the 90+ temperatures here to run the air conditioning.

Wednesday evening, shortly after we got registered for our conference, we had a visit from Ara and Spirit, who actually stayed until Thursday morning, only the second time ever that we've had an adult sleep on our guest bed. Spirit and Opal managed to work things out after several tempestuous moments, finally enjoying a peaceful coexistence as members of the exclusive dogs-with-goggles (and helmets) club.

I'm afraid that's all I have time for -- we are seriously overbooked while we are here. It did not help the schedule that last night's farewell party for outgoing President Bill Sinkford included a surprise (to him as well as us) appearance by The Persuasions -- I was out way later than I planned; they may be old, but they've still got it.