There’s something about dry camping in the desert for a few weeks that really makes one appreciate the lesser things in life … like soaking in a big muddy spring with naked strangers, sharing some hooch under the stars, or showering in a culvert.
It also makes one realize how we take for granted what most consider the the basic necessities of life … plumbing – and hot water, at that – electricity, refrigeration, shelter and transportation.
One look around the slabs and it’s obvious that many come to Slab City because they want to, while others end up here because they must.
Perhaps there is no where else to go for the scruffy genius. Are the weary travelers here in a tent with their three legged dog for fun? Does the young graduate couple camp here with theirs because it’s free?
That’s one good reason we spent nearly three weeks at Slab City. Same goes for a good number of Canadians, Fokkers, full-time RVers, weekenders, and resident transients who call Niland, CA home for at least a while. There’s no amenities, no facilities, and there’s not much of anything in town, unless you’re looking for a vast selection of fortified wines.
But what does one really need to maintain his or her standard of living? That all depends on where your comfort level lies in relationship to your surroundings.
To some, Slab City has it all: hot springs, live music, good people and a community shower. To others it’s a great place to visit – decent weather and social clubs, with fuel, a laundromat and store nearby.
To those who might disagree, I suggest you at least give it a try. After all its perfectly safe, with 24-hour security from the border patrol, a U.S. Navy bombing range to the east and Calipatria State Prison to the west. And you can’t beat the price!
I give credit to anyone makes a go of it on the slabs. First impressions can be deceiving. If you give it time, Slab City might just grow on you. Just not literally, one hopes.
Among RVers, no other camping area evokes such intense reactions as Slab City. People either love it, or hate it. There is no gray area among this 640 acre dismantled military base near the Salton Sea.
“The movie depicts Slab City as this really cool RV hippie community, where people of all ages hang out – peace, love, happiness, rock and roll, and all that. Well yesterday, we drove two hours to Slab City and nothing could be further from the truth.
Slab City is an RV slum, pure and simple. It’s actually really sad – people living in tents and abandon vehicles. There were even remnants of burned down RVs strewn all over the place. It’s amazing to think that people actually live this way in the US – and it’s only 80 miles from swanky Palm Springs.”
This intrigued me. Liz is a nice person and I like her a lot, but the two of us are quite different. I’m crunchy granola and like to keep things simple, while she’s a high flyin’ New Yorker who’s into manicures,and the glamourous life. Once I saw what she thought of Slab City, I figured if she hated it, I’d probably love it.
I was right.
Slab City: The Last Free Place
Do come here with an open mind if you plan to visit. Many people we know would be completely offended by the post-apocalyptic look of the place.
To come here requires someone who is willing to look beyond the surface, to scratch a little deeper at a situation to learn the real story.
Free camping. It’s a spot of abandoned, state-owned land where hundreds of travelers from all over the world come to stay for free, some permanently, others just to ride out winter. Call us squatters, if you will, since nobody has “official” permission to be here.
Serious Boondocking. There are no facilities whatsoever: no electricity, water, or trash. Nothing. The closest dump station is 8 miles away.
Kinda trashy, in places. Yes, there is some garbage and abandoned RVs around. The state doesn’t care about this spot, and the closest city refuses to clean it up since residents don’t pay to be here. It’s up to campers to be responsible for taking trash to town, and like any neighborhood, some people are better about this than others.
Very Social. There is much to do and see here, including social clubs, a couple of concert stages, a library, an 18 hole golf course, a church, hot springs, and more. We’ve been to two potlucks, and seem to be doing something every night of the week. We’ve never been so active in one location before.
What Slab City Isn’t:
Lawless. Contrary to how the media portrays it, I don’t feel in any more in danger here than I do in most cities. Sure, there are some sketchy looking characters, but if you keep away from them, they’ll most likely keep away from you. The county sheriff makes regular runs through here, and Border Patrol is constantly driving through.
Depressing. There is more creativity here than any tidy suburban neighborhood I’ve been to. Residents have contributed many hours of labor to build free amenities like the golf course (with free equipment!), concert stages, church, or the public shower down near the springs. I’m impressed that people would do so much with so little, in such an unforgiving desert environment. Now if they could only get it together to do something about the trash . . .
Mainstream. It’s as if someone took a sampling of every kind of ethnicity, personality type and mental disorder, and shipped them here. There are international travelers, old folks, musicians, fulltime Rvers, wandering travelers and offroad enthusiasts, all camped out in the same area as drifters, people struggling with addictions, mental illness and/or homelessness. Everyone seems to get along, following a live and let live attitude.
The desert scenery outside Slab City is beautiful, surrounded by a rugged mountain range. On most days, you can look east to the Chocolate Mountains, about 2 miles away, and watch the US Navy spend your tax dollars by practicing bombing runs and playing war games in the air. We took two hour bike rides without seeing another soul.
The other day, Jim went to see Solar Mike, about our solar system. Mike asked Jim “How long are you staying?” Jim replied with “oh, a week or two.” Mike looked at Jim with a knowing look and chuckled… “Yeah, right.”
I think he could tell just by looking at us. The Slab City lifestyle is agreeing with us, and we’re going to find it hard to break camp this week.
I simply despise blog posts that begin, “My it’s been a while since I blogged.” But when you’re workamping on a ranch full-time, there’s little time for blogging. So we’ve got a lot of catching up to do now that we’re on the road again. At least I do.
Please stay tuned for belated dispatches from our time at Vickers Ranch. In the meantime here’s a little sampling, in a slideshow …
Find us a boondocking spot in beautiful country in the middle of nowhere, and we’re all over it. When we started looking for a summer workamping gig, we wanted a job in remote, mountain location. There were a couple of forest service jobs we could’ve taken, but we ended up here at Vickers because 1) it paid more, and 2) it offered us the chance to see if we’re resort owner material.
But the one thing we didn’t really consider, were the foodie sacrifices we’d have to make to live and work in a really remote mountain town with a year-round population of 500 people.
When we first left on this trip, our friend Ranger Mike told us horror stories about how often generators would get ripped off at the parks where he worked.
This would truly be a horror for us indeed, because I love my little Honda. I don’t love using it, but whenever I have to, I love it. You see, the Honda EU200i lives up to its “Super Quiet” branding.
And that’s a good thing when you’re in a campground with others and not boondocking way out in the woods by yourself.
The Fruita Campground in Capitol Reef National Park is beautiful. It is nestled among an oasis of fruit trees in the midst of desolate wilderness with trails like the Frying Pan Loop and Cohab Canyon. It has lots of shade, great views of the bluff, clean restrooms with flush toilets, and plenty of grass for a dessert. It does not have hookups.
Having tent camped here long ago, I think they should keep all us obnoxious RVer types in the second loop and keep the first loop for tenters. The second loop has bigger sites anyway. But it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference to reduce noise, considering some of the generators out there.
When we finally had to run our Honda after a couple days in the shade, I started it up and stepped inside. To my amazement, we could hear the generator a few sites away over ours right outside the window. Like I said, I love our little Honda.
That’s why we keep it locked up – not out of camper paranoia, but out of love. Oh, and the fact that it is expensive, small, and very lightweight. A long Kryptonite lock connected to a front jack through the handle works well when its in use. And we use a Lasso Security Cable to secure it to our hitch while stored in our truck bed.
That way we can rest easy at night and go on long hikes – like this one to spot where I proposed to Rene 12 years ago – without any worry …
With our solar set-up and power conservation habits, our little Honda 2000 suits us just fine. But another great thing about it is, if we ever need more power we can just get a second one and use the optional Honda EU2000i 30 Amp RV Parallel Kit to link the two together. This is still cheaper than a 4000 watt generator!
Nearly a year ago now – way back in Deadwood, SD – I wrote about how the view is always different from our kitchen table. Another view that always changes for us is out our Bathroom window.
Being a skylight, the view is usually of the sky. Light during the day, but sometimes we see stars at night. Until it fogs up.
Nevertheless, I am always reminded that this adventure is still fun and exciting whenever I look up and see new trees. Or the best yet, this view of the bluff above our site at the 4J+1+1 Campground in Ouray, CO.
Considering the millennia it took to form Capitol Reef, not much has changed in Cohab Canyon over the past dozen years.
But we sure have.
Looking at the canyon, I recognize the old rock formations. Looking at the young tent campers nearby, I realize we would have bagged on all these big RVs and us old “campers” running our noisy generators.
“The difference between whether you can make it happen or whether you can’t is not how many obstacles you have, it is how badly do you want to do something totally life-changing—totally for yourself.
We will give you the tools to change your dream into reality, but the implementation is yours to enjoy.”
— Phil and Carol White, authors of “Live Your Road Trip Dream”
I bought the book because I wanted to figure out how we could take some time off without going broke, and Road Trip Dream succeeded in helping us do just that. With the release of its second edition, the Whites’ book is as vital as ever when it comes to considering every critical aspect of how to plan, execute and live your own road trip dream. Don’t even think of embarking on a journey without reading and following the advice laid out by these two seasoned road trippers.
It always works out for the best. I keep reminding René (and myself) of that whenever we’ve been driving along time in search of the perfect place to boondock, and the day is getting long.
Recently, while visiting El Morro National Monument, we kept searching for an inconspicuous place to pull over for the night. Good thing we didn’t find one.
I have always loved the mountains. And I’ve always thought I would love to live in the mountains. After having gone directly from boondocking at Three Rivers Campground in the shadows of Sierra Blanca overlooking New Mexico’s Tularosa Valley to the smog-filled traffic jam that is Los Angeles, I can say without a doubt that mountains are a definite requirement for the next place I live. Read the rest of this entry »
There’s something about dry camping in the desert for a few weeks that really makes one appreciate the lesser things in life … like soaking in a big muddy spring with naked strangers, sharing some hooch under the stars, or showering in a culvert.
That’s one good reason we spent nearly three weeks at Slab City. Same goes for a good number of Canadians, Fokkers, full-time RVers, weekenders, and resident transients who call Niland, CA home for at least a while. There’s no amenities, no facilities, and there’s not much of anything in town, unless you’re looking for a vast selection of fortified wines.
To some, Slab City has it all: hot springs, live music, good people and a community shower. To others it’s a great place to visit – decent weather and social clubs, with fuel, a laundromat and store nearby.
“The difference between whether you can make it happen or whether you can’t is not how many obstacles you have, it is how badly do you want to do something totally life-changing—totally for yourself.
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