There will be no Luck for us this year. Luckenbach that is, Texas. But the year is only half over so at the risk of shoulding all over myself, I guess I should clarify.
We didn’t make our annual pilgrimage to Luck earlier this year. We were nearly in Texas when we had to high-tail it back to Humboldt for our friend’s unexpected memorial. Since we missed out on the cold Shiner, good people and great music, I thought I’d reminisce by sharing this playlist of live music videos from past trips.
A stop at Luckenbach General Store is highly recommended for any full-timer who enjoys authentic American singer songwriter music in an authentic Old West bar, or anyone just wants to see what Waylon and Willie were singing about.
Overnight boondocking is available in the field if no big acts are on the bill. Just don’t get stuck. But if you do, grab another Shiner and realize there’s no better place to be stuck. Can you tell I miss Texas? With any luck we’ll get back to Luck by the year’s end when we head back South again for the winter.
With that said, I’m lovin’ our Colorado mountain summer! And while I wouldn’t necessarily call it “luck” we are very fortunate to be here. With the perfect climate, majestic views, fresh mountain air and occasional moose sighting, what more could we ask for? Except for maybe a couple nights at Hondo’s old hangout.
And with that said, what do you feel fortunate for? And where have you seen some of the best Music Americana in your travels? South by Southwest doesn’t count, that’s a given. Our visit to the Floyd Country Store ranks up there for us.
When you’re in a spot for a while, those little annoyances you didn’t see upon your arrival tend to make their debut. But not here, not for us.
Sure, there’s the pine beetle epidemic that’s killed quite a few magnificent trees, but we can’t control what the beetles do (thank you, climate change), only try our best to shoo them off with pheromones and natural tree fertilizers.
Sometimes this place does cost more than if we were still fulltime RVers. And while I don’t like the financial burdens of having a piece of the American Dream, I keep reminding myself that ultimately our little place will serve us even better than it does now.
Property values actually increased this year up here, which was a shock. Still, we felt incredibly fortunate to have been in that boat, even if our taxes went up.
Where to Next?
If we stayed here during winter, I think my complaint list would grow.
But we’ll still fly south in winter for the forseeable future. Just as we start to get fat, happy and settled into routines, it’ll be time to go test our wits out there in the world and live spontaneously once again.
We love Red Feather Lakes. And although it’s nice to have a beautiful place to stay for a while, the adventure of the road tripping lifestyle will always beckon.
After four years on the road and nearly 70,000 miles logged on the Dodge, there are a few places that have remained near and dear to us, the kind of place we want to go back to again and again. Vickers Ranch is one of them.
And now that the ranch cabins are for sale, there’s a lot more people who are going to discover the magic of this 100-year old Lake City legacy.
Recently I talked to Larry and Paul Vickers about the family’s exciting new Vickers Horse River Ranch Property that gives the public a chance to own one of their hand-crafted, historic log cabins.
In this 15-minute intervew we talk with Larry and Paul Vickers, whose family helped establish Lake City during the peak mining years of the late 1800s.
Jim and I worked at their ranch during 2008 when we thought we wanted to buy a small resort.
Then we realized: What, are we nuts?!
Now that we know the realities of the resort life, we can say we’re definitely not cut out for this kind of gig. The work was the hardest we have ever done but the family’s kindness and generosity made it all worthwhile.
Our adventures at the ranch were chronicled in blogs post such as:
We’ll hopefully be heading back to the ranch in a few weeks to get our share of hay buckin’, cowboy coffee and manual labor, so stay tuned for more Vickers Ranch workamping adventures.
Meanwhile, if you or someone you know would like to be a guest on our Blog Talk Radio show, drop us a line!
As a full-time road tripper, do people you meet on the road ever say to you “Gee, you travel all the time? What, didja win the lotto?”
What do you say to them?
I hesitate to tell people how Jim and I live because most assume that we’re loaded (with money, that is). Which we are not. Ok, it’s all relative, but still.
We manage to do what we do because we keep our expenses extremely low and stay debt free. Our wallets are thin but our spirits are not.
Of course explaining this to a stranger takes more than a 15-second spiel, so I usually just say “we’re snowbirds.”
One of the ways we can do what we do and still eek out a living is through our Internet connections and by scouring the countryside for freebie spots like this one in Utah.
But before braving the Colorado cold, we stopped near Moab to soak up some sun and camp for a few more days.
Spring has sprung here and we wanted to see more. We also haven’t experienced any warm weather whatsoever since last summer, so I was hoping for high temperatures.
Some fellow road trippers told us about this pretty spot, which I’ve since added to the Escapees Day’s End Directory. (go buy a copy to find out where it is!).
These free spots are widely available to wintertime road trippers in Southwestern deserts. Winter brings many more options for finding solitude on the road.
It’s rare that I actually feel like I’m getting something for my tax dollars, but when we camp on free public land like this, I love knowing that my tax dollars paid for it.
I never thought I would feel any sense of exhilaration over the death of an individual, but I surprised myself with my reaction when Jim screamed “They got Bin Laden!”
“GOOD!” I said. Yes, I was happy that they killed him. Ecstatic that this horrible human being was wiped off the face of the earth. Now it’s really time for the collective “We” to move forward toward better days ahead. Is that so wrong?
When you have the ability to create a new, temporary home somewhere, why not dive into a book about the area? Learning a little about your location will always reveal surprising, colorful stories, even in the most seemingly boring places. You’ll end up with a stronger connection to your surroundings than a two second Kodak moment.
Whoever left this at the Slabs Library had no idea how much it would rock my world. Thank you!
Amazon.com Review: Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire, the noted author’s most enduring nonfiction work, is an account of Abbey’s seasons as a ranger at Arches National Park outside Moab, Utah.
Abbey reflects on the nature of the Colorado Plateau desert, on the condition of our remaining wilderness, and on the future of a civilization that cannot reconcile itself to living in the natural world. He also recounts adventures with scorpions and snakes, obstinate tourists and entrenched bureaucrats, and, most powerful of all, with his own mortality. Abbey’s account of getting stranded in a rock pool down a side branch of the Grand Canyon is at once hilarious and terrifying.
Road trippers, wanderers and hobos have much in common with Abbey, one of the America’s first radical environmentalists. Anyone who breaks from convention and searches for a different path in life will find validation in their “odd” life choices when reading his work.
“My God! I’m thinking, what incredible shit we put up with most of our lives — the domestic routine (same old wife every night), the stupid and useless and degrading jobs. . . the foul, diseased and hideious cities and towns we live in, the constant petty tyranny of automatic washers and automobiles and TV machines and telephones –! ah Christ! I’m thinking, at the same time that I’m waving goodby to that hollering idiot on the shore, what intolerable garbage and what utterly useless crap we bury ourselves in day by day, while patiently enduring at the same time the creeping strangulation of the clean white collar and the rich but modest four-in-hand garrote!).
. . . That‘s what the first taste of the wild does to a man, after having been too long penned up in the city. No wonder the Authorities are so anxious to smother the wilderness under asphalt and reservoirs.“
This week Jim and I are in Moab, camped around dozens of off-roader jeepers, bikers and dune buggiers who tear up the landscape while leaving swirling contrails of testosterone behind.
As I watch them whiz by on wheels, I can’t help but think of one of my favorite passages:
“What can I tell them? Sealed in their metallic shells like molluscs on wheels, how can I pry the people free? The auto as tin can, the park ranger as opener. Look here, I want to say, for godsake folks get out of them there machines, take off those fucking sunglasses and unpeel both eyeballs, look around; throw away those goddamned idiotic cameras! For chrissake folks what is this life if full of care we have no time to stand and stare? eh?
. . . Yes sir, yes madam, I entreat you, get out of those motorized wheelchairs, get off your foam rubber backsides, stand up straight like men! like women! like human beings! and walk — walk — WALK upon our sweet and blessed land!”
Jim and I love Utah’s landscapes, but we’ve always been slightly freaked out by the Mormon culture that dominates every town we’ve been through. Ever since we rode here on our motorcycles a million years ago and a grocery store clerk snidely called long-haired Jim “Ma’am”, we’ve been more than a little critical of the creepy, stepford-like attitudes we’ve encountered among a lot (but not all) people.
Krakauer’s book sheds loads of light on Mormonism’s growth, their dominance of Utah’s politics and people and how many tiny sects have spun off and created even freakier fundamentalist movements.
From Publishers Weekly: Using as a focal point the chilling story of offshoot Mormon fundamentalist brothers Dan and Ron Lafferty, who in 1984 brutally butchered their sister-in-law and 15-month-old niece in the name of a divine revelation, Krakauer explores what he sees as the nature of radical Mormon sects with Svengali-like leaders.
Using mostly secondary historical texts and some contemporary primary sources, Krakauer compellingly details the history of the Mormon church from its early 19th-century creation by Joseph Smith (whom Krakauer describes as a convicted con man) to its violent journey from upstate New York to the Midwest and finally Utah, where, after the 1890 renunciation of the church’s holy doctrine sanctioning multiple marriages, it transformed itself into one of the world’s fastest-growing religions.
My take is that essentially, there’s no difference between a charismatic religious zealot like Mormon founder Joseph Smith, and other self-proclaimed prophets who mass media portrays as unstable nutbags with criminal tendencies (remember David Koresh?). The only thing separating them was timing. Mormonism grew as fast as it did because there wasn’t much to compete with it back in the 1800s. However, I’m still not sure how that explains the numbers of modern followers it continues to attract.
Perhaps Edward Abbey knows:
“Whatever we cannot easily understand we call God; this saves much wear and tear on the brain tissues.”
Allow me to stray from the topic of snowbird RV wanderlust for a moment here once again to share some more of that open source enlightenment.
When shit happens – and it undoubtedly will – we must deal with it, that’s a fact. How we cope with emotionally difficult situations depends on how we choose to feel. Allow yourself to feel frustration, angst, embarrassment or whatever else ails you, and you’ll certainly be dealt a bad hand.
Choose to reframe outcomes in your favor, and you can be free of pain and stress. Easier said than done, right?
Right. I have always asked myself just that. How? Exactly how does one correct their own reaction when in the moment of distress? Mindfulness teacher and meditation guru Jon Kabat-Zinn suggests by befriending your breath and dancing with the acuality of the event. Other ennlightened individuals will suggest by being – with all your heart and soul – in that very present moment, for that is when you have the choice to better your environment. Believe it, and this is easier done than said.
Immersing yourself in the present moment feels fantastic, and comes naturally when remaining calm in a peaceful environment. Simply being becomes much more difficult when spontaneity brings misfortune and distress. So again, how does one follow through after making the choice to feel good while the fan is praying shit everywhere? Just flip a switch in the brain? Yes. Turn off the fan.
My good friend NLP Dave explained an understanding of his that may help. I’ve been mulling over his allowance theory since our walk along the Eureka waterfront a few weeks back. From what I gathered – or if I recall correctly – negativity is a basically the resistance of positive thinking. The opposite of that resistance would be allowance. So, one must accept outcomes at face value and allow the silver lining of even the darkest clouds to shine through.
“Above every dark cloud, the sun is always shining bright. Except at night.”
— me
Recent events and resulting anguish provided the opportunity for putting this precept to the test. After putting a major gouge in the side of our truck while attempting to fit in a tight spot where I had easily parked just days before, with fellow campers waiting to pull by, I wasn’t exactly feeling quite chipper or acting very calm.
Quick coincidental digression: I recently read an article about EFT which Dave showed me can be a powerful self therapeutic tool. Practicing a quick touch sequence while focussing to let go of the pain, anger, embarrassment and distress I was feeling allowed me to clear my mind enough to accept what happened, and realize that how I was acting was making me feel so shitty. Being in the present at that time meant understanding the damage was done, and how I fealt about it was up to me.
I allowed myself to welcome a positive vibe about our new spot – in the campground that is, not on our fender.
As much as we shouldn’t compare – nor should on ourselves – the whole scene could have been much worse. The scrape is purely cosmetic, any damage to the trailer would have likely been functional. We finally had a nice wide open good level spot, with a more beautiful view of the river and cliffs. Satellite connectivity was quick and cell phone reception was better. We now had plenty of water, produce and provisions. We ran all our necessary errands and had a spot available at the small riverside campground before the busy Easter weekend.
There is a moral or two to this story. There is a great free campground about 9 miles outside Green River on Hastings road. If headed before a busy weekend fill the fridge at the market in town and top off with water at the truck stop. That way you won’t have to park again after rushing to town. Pay attention and never feel rushed when parking your rig. Just because you fit easily in a tight spot before, don’t assume fitting again will be just as easy. Always have your navigator keep on eye on the trailer and the truck.
And if you happen add another battle scar to your trailer or tow vehicle, understand that freaking out won’t fix it. In fact, it only makes matters worse.
Life Is Give And Take
You see, I have always looked at life like this. It’s all about give and take. Life, that is. It’s about giving what you’re willing to lose to get whatever it is you want to take. Unfortunately, sometimes it takes being put to the test to find that perfect spot.And you must be willing to pay the price for living life to the fullest and loving every minute of it.
In other words – if you’ll pardon my French one more time – sometimes ya just gotta say shit without letting it hit the fan. Because if you let it build up, life gets pretty stinky.
Epilogue: In nealry four years on the road we are fortunate and grateful to have experienced no major catastrophe. Perhaps positively dealing with the number of smaller mishaps that do occur will ensure we never do. After all, it is these dark moments that remind us to slow down and allow those silver linings to shine through.
It was over two years ago now that I first pondered publishing a post titled, “I Could Die A Happy Man.” Now that may sound morbid to most, but I meant it in only the most positive sense, and still do.
My reasoning at the time was that we had enjoyed a wonderful life with Jerry on the road, where he taught us – among many other enlightening lessons – that every day is a great day, no matter what life throws your way. I was recently reminded of this by a comment on some satellite radio show about coping with difficulties. It went something like this…
“You always have a choice. Even if your only choice is how you react to the situation, you still have a choice.”
So true. I choose to be happy. It sounds simple enough, but it can be harder than you might think, especially when life throws you a curveball. Or worse, beans you high and hard.
With the anniversary of Kris’ death coming up, and doctors suddenly telling another dear friend cancer is killing him, I thought it high time to share how I do it. Be happy that is. Consider it a bit of open source enlightenment.
Ever since we hit the road with our three legged dog after his cancer diagnosis and amputation, I have been privately working on this personal mantra…
“I am available to more good than I have ever experienced, imagined or known ever before in my entire life. So I open myself to all the wonderful gifts the universe has to shower upon me. And I am grateful for living a happy healthy life free of pain and discomfort, thriving in tune with the cosmic dance. I know the universe is conspiring on my behalf, so I free myself of guilt and blame and think kind thoughts, speak kind words, and act kind deeds toward myself others and the environment. Should I experience stress or pain, I choose to let it go knowing that I am completely free without it, because I am most happy and comfortable enjoying every moment to the fullest choosing to live life in the ever present now.”
It’s an ever-evolving work in progress but that’s what makes it work so well. I repeat it most often when out for my morning runs. Another friend, Dave Berman, found it enlightening enough to use a variation we agreed upon when he launched his Manifest Positivity blog. You can ask Dave how the differences he suggested I incorporate make the mantra more effective, he’s the certified NLP practitioner.
But I am a creature of habit, and I believe this is working for me. Call it mumbo jumbo if you will, but a little good juju can go along way if you ask me. So I recommend anyone seeking a little more happiness from life develop a mantra of their own. Below are a few resources that led to me developing mine.
The Secret – The law of attraction is no secret after all, and anyone who has read or seen this will recognize the first few words of my mantra.
Pronoia by Rob Brezsny – Never read it, but a few of the things I tell myself I learned from Dave, who swears by its teachings about how how the whole world is conspiring to shower you with blessings.
Am I Being Kind by Michael J. Chase – I still owe Dave a public thank you, and book review for this quick read about how asking one simple question can change your life, and your world.
Excuses Begone! by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer – Didn’t read this one either but did take plenty of notes during Dr. Dyer’s seminar of the same name on PBS about how to change lifelong, self-defeating thinking habits.
Industrial tourism has a place in the American landscape. These sites are like train wrecks and natural disasters; you just can’t help but look twice at the horrific results.
Some of them make great attractions, while others make you want to turn your head and weep.
We’re here in Bisbee, ground zero of Arizona’s copper, silver and gold mining boom of the late 19th century.
This town once prospered because of man’s awesome ability to cut open the earth and extract riches.
Bisbee was a company town complete with housing, schools and stores for employees who took on this dangerous work to feed their families for a pittance of a salary.
Bisbee Today
There was once incredible wealth here and today many of the oldest buildings still stand.
Bisbee’s narrow streets and twisted pathways lead to houses stacked on top of eachother, perched alongside the steep hills this town was built on.
Funky thrift stores housed in historic buildings and cafes built into mountainsides give it a dusty Southwestern flair that’s attracted tons of creatives.
Soon after the artists arrived, however, so did the art buyers, which meant that real estate prices went sky-high and proprietors figured out how valuable those antiques in their junk stores really were. There are few real deals to be found here.
That’s alright though. Some of the “come here’s” progressive attitudes have really improved this community. There’s recycling on every corner and a true appreciation for public art, not just the kind that hangs over a wealthy person’s mantle.
Relics of Bisbee’s past blend with modern artistic touches that make it an interesting place to amble along on a Saturday afternoon.
While it’s somewhat out of your way to get here unless you’re going to the Mexican border, trust me when I say it’s worth a visit.
There’s a lot to be said for staying in one location, if only for a month or so.
After just a couple of weeks at our current gig, caretaking a vacant property in Southern Arizona, we’ve already settled in nicely and created daily routines that revolve around working, playing, eating and resting.
These routines are much like those of a stick-house dweller’s, except that we don’t see anyone else all week until we leave the property to go grocery shopping.
It’s just us and the wind most days. Oh, and the nasty javalenas.
Caretaking 101
The assignment is easy and our bosses are great people. They’re not asking much from us, so we have plenty of time to catch up on our own work and bringing home the bacon. We love it.
They’ve known the property owners here for a while and were caretaking a neighboring property, but just left.
The weather’s almost been nice enough to work and eat al fresco, but it just turned ugly and we hope this is only temporary.
Still, even during the brisk 50 degree evenings we’re seeing incredible sunsets, like this one. I’ve made a pledge to see every one while we’re here. Most of them look something like this (and no, I didn’t Photoshop this image).
Meanwhile, our Wyatt loves the freedom to roam the fenced property like a dirty ol’ ranch dawg. He’s made a new friend too.
That nasty javalena drives Wyatt insane (moreso than usual) whenever he makes an appearance at sunset. Gregory provides hours of entertainment for all of us.
Water, Water….everywhere?
I was surprised to see that even the smallest properties around here have irrigation running out to landscaping, chicken coops, you name it.
After all, we come from Colorado, where it’s illegal to wash our truck, or water our outdoor plants with our own well water. Water is so precious to Coloradoans, because no water comes into the state, but it all leaves and heads south . . . eventually ending up right here, in the big ol’ Rio Grande dustbowl along the border.
Once that precious resource gets here, people get to water their plants with the very same water that I’m not allowed to use in my backyard, where it originally comes from.
I have to buy water from our property association if I want to use it for outdoor purposes. But Arizonans don’t. Huh?
I like griping about it. Jim says I’m just mad because I can’t use water like this on our property without getting busted. You bet I would, if I could get away with it.
Off the Grid, Away from the Rules
But here in Southern Arizona, just shy of the border, it’s no-man’s land. People who live here are free to do what they want. From the funky handbuilt houses to the backyard shooting ranges, in a lot of ways the Wild West lives on.
And why not?
If you’re rugged enough to make a home for yourself here, I guess you deserve to make your own rules. It’s not exactly the most hospitable environment and most people aren’t cut out for it. I know I’m not.
Someone’s gotta do it though, right?
There are some great sights nearby, like the artsy old mining town of Bisbee, which we plan on exploring more during our stay.
Until then, we’re putting our noses to the grindstone, working away to make a buck on that great hamster wheel of life. We put in some long hours most days, but at least we’ve got a spectacular view out of our office window.
Enough of all that healthy food talk. Here’s to another one of the best burgers in the country!
We first frequented the Ice-Burg Drive-in when visiting Walla Walla, WA with Jerry over a dozen years ago. And before you ask, yes I spelled that right – Ice Burg as in burgers, get it?
Before I go digressing again, suffice it to say that Ice-Burg serves one of the best burgers, and many of the best shakes I have ever enjoyed – both in terms of flavor and atmosphere. And by atmosphere, I do mean the atmosphere because the only seating at Ice-Burg is a round picnic table outside the small joint with dual drive-up windows. A true burger drive-in if there ever was one.
Without a website* – at least that I can find – to research the history of the Ice-Burg Drive-in, I can tell you that it has been around a really, really long time. Plenty of web reviews for Ice-Burg hamburgers reflect on the nostalgia of the place being around in the fifties and sixties. But it was my dad who originally told us to eat there, and he left for West Point some time in the forties! (He also liked to use exclamation points.)
Ice-Burg Drive-In
616 W Birch St
Walla Walla, WA 99362
(509) 529-1793
Sadly, I am at a loss for any data I was hoping to find comparing dates of operation of Walla Walla’s Ice-Burg Drive-In to the original McDonalds or In and Out locations. So let’s just say, it’s been around longer than both. If I am wrong, screwm! (Another favorite saying of Dad’s.) The burgers, fries and shakes at Ice-Burg are still better, by far.
To enjoy the full Ice-Burg experience get there just before the dinner rush, call that dusk. Park down the street and stroll through the quaint Walla Walla neighborhood. Order a cheeseburger, fries and shake at the walk up window and sit at the picnic table. You’ll have your meal in time to watch the cars line up, out the driveway, down the alley, and out of sight.
The burgers are pure unadulterated goodness – flavorful beef cooked just right, with crisp Iceburg lettuce, fresh tomato and onion on a white bun. The fries are crisp and lightly salted. And the shakes, well, there is only one issue with those. With many fruit flavors, coffee, caramel, and other specialties to choose from, you may have a tough time deciding which one to get. Whatever your preference – I like chocolate – be sure to get a spoon. My dad loved milk shakes and malteds, but I always thought it was weird how he never used a straw. Now I know why.
This is not your trendy $9.00 gourmet burger trying to make up for flavor with a big seeded bun, Pasilla peppers and guacamole. I sincerely doubt the Ice-Burg menu has changed much over the years. Although yes, now you can get a veggie burger! The only thing I will never understand is how people will wait in line at the neighboring Jack in the Box drive-in, with such an honest home town burger across the street.
So, where was your best burger? (Home cooked doesn’t don’t count!)
*Don’t be fooled by the IceBERG website link on GoogleMaps. How dare they hijack the listing for such a small town American icon!
What do you say to them?
One of the ways we can do what we do and still eek out a living is through 
Spring has sprung here and we wanted to see more. We also haven’t experienced any warm weather whatsoever since last summer, so I was hoping for high temperatures.
It’s rare that I actually feel like I’m getting something for my tax dollars, but when we camp on free public land like this, I love knowing that my tax dollars paid for it.
“GOOD!” I said. Yes, I was happy that they killed him. Ecstatic that this horrible human being was wiped off the face of the earth. Now it’s really time for the collective “We” to move forward toward better days ahead. Is that so wrong?
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