Two years ago the Slab City Lizard Tree Library met a terrible fate. As I wrote in 2010, the library’s long-suffering caretaker had a melt-down and disassembled all of the quirky fixtures that would make anyone want to lounge within it’s walls. I was there the day Ron snapped.

“I’m sick of picking up after people and their dog shit!” Ron told me. “I’ve had it! If they want to trash this place they can have it!”

He ripped out the Library’s famed InterNut connection, which consisted of a manual typewriter and stuffed mouse. The lounge chairs placed underneath the canopy of a shade tree and the peaceful bottle fountain were gone.

To scare away any visitors, Ron had taken down the road sign too.

That was a sad day for anyone who had experienced what a special place the library was in its heyday.

Last year the library was obviously still in use, but rapidly becoming dilapidated. This year I feared what it would look like, so I avoided returning to the devastating scene . . . until last week.

I walked up to see that sadly, it’s still slowly deteriorating. Without someone to look after things, the ceiling is caving in and the dust is deep on the cobwebbed shelves.

The Slab City Lizard Tree Library is a sad ghost of what it used to be. While it does appear that some folks are using care to keep things as neat as possible, and a few like me are still donating books, the library is no longer a place you want to hang out. It’s actually a little creepy now.

Meawhile, Ron continues living next door in his RV-without-wheels, holding his permanent yard sale.

According to a long-time Slabber, he has no plans to leave and hand over the librarian duties to someone who cares.

It’s a sad time for literacy in Slab City USA.

It’s official: the media has run out of “recession victim” angles.

Time Magazine’s half-assed reporting about the Slabs gave us a good laugh today, just in time for happy hour.

Need a good chuckle? Here it is:

Slab City, Here We Come: Living Life Off the Grid in California’s Badlands

One would think that Time could afford to hire a reporter capable of uncovering a different angle, or talking to people who haven’t been interviewed several times over by NPR or CBS.

If you want some laughter therapy, read the full story here. But if your Time is more valuable, here are the hilarious highlights:

“a squatters’ camp deep in the badlands of California’s poorest county, where the road ends”

“dropouts and fugitives of all stripes”

“recession refugees”

“a former drug addict turned born-again Christian”

“tribes have emerged”

“soul-searching Gypsy Kids who arrive by train with little more than the ragged clothes on their back”

“the rowdy bikers who pass through, or the meth-addled loners on the outer edges inclined to greet a trespasser with a gunshot”

“disappearances, mysterious drownings in the mud baths, the man who showed up in camp with his finger apparently bitten off”

“The border patrol keeps a visible presence, searching for illegal immigrants that ply the region.”

Yeah, that pretty much sums up most of us, like Jim and I, or our super friendly, squeaky clean neighbors, the Bayfield Bunch, or the Canadian politician who was here last week.

Can you say “Sensationalism”? Remember kids, The Media Lies.

Which can be a good thing, I guess.

Long live the Slabs!

With thanks to Rhodester, who shared this on my Facebook page today.

OK, I’ll admit it.

I’m a sweaty guy.

I tend to perspire more than adequately during my morning runs (especially when we’re hanging out in the desert, like now) but apparently I do not have Hyperhidrosis – neither Axilary, nor Palmar, and I am happy to report no signs of Erythrophobia!

While Rene may disagree, I feel I also have my Bromhidrosis under control.

When you’re working out it hot weather, please remember to rehydrate, especially if you sweat excessively.

And if you do, understand the facts and get yourself on the path to stop Hyperhydrosis by learning the basics. This infographic will help. Click the image to view it at full size.

Via: Bye Bye Excessive Armpit Sweat

Sometimes you meet the nicest lurkers in the most interesting places. Take Slab City, for example.

Saturday afternoon we packed up from our quiet little spot in Borrego Springs and headed east to our favorite free wacky camping destination, Slab City USA.

Slab City Goes Upscale

OK maybe it’s just me, but it seems that the Slabs have gone upscale. There seems to be a real sense of ownership and pride around here that we’ve never seen before.

Trash piles are getting cleaned up, “No dumping” signs have sprung up, people are putting more artwork around the community, and a new Slab City Calendar of Events sign welcomes visitors. You no longer have to be in the know to find out what’s happening every day.

This Lurker Walks Into a Camp . . .

Yesterday I walked outside our rig and a stranger on an ATV pulls up, turns off his motor and says “You must be Rene.”

Huh?

“You don’t know me but I’ve been following your blog for a long time, since you first started.”

Whoooah.

I asked him his name, but didn’t know it. And there’s no reason I should have: in the five years since Jim and I started writing about our travels, he’s never once commented or contacted us. But he’s been a loyal reader and he could recall nearly everything we’ve been through on the road.

“You’re a lurker!” I said to him. But he didn’t like that term, he said it sounded too creepy. I’m not sure what to call him, other than a really jolly, adventurous, respected Canadian politico who’s now living his own road trip dream.

Although his wife isn’t thrilled about this place, I reassured him that despite the cleaned up appearance, the Slabs is still a great, safe dry camping spot, especially when you’re surrounded by dozens of other Canadian snowbirds here off Canal Road, in what we call “Canada Camp.”

A Lilliputlian Universe

What a thrill to know our blog actually has a reader! We never know if anyone’s paying attention to what we’re writing (even our family members usually don’t know what we’re up to because most of them don’t follow us!).

To meet a total stranger who’s been loyally reading our blog for years, really made our day.

Mr. “I”m-Not-a-Lurker” doesn’t have his own blog, otherwise I’d reveal his identity. I guess we’ll have to convince him to start his own RV Blog.

The Interwebs have shrunk our world so much. Now, only three degrees separates each and every one of us. And in the full-time traveler’s universe, it’s turned our world into that of Lilliputlian proportions.

Go ahead, give it a try. Smile.

Feeling upset? You may be surprised at just how good a smile will make you feel.

You might even be more surprised how contagious it is. In fact clinical studies have proven that smiling improves relaxation.

But smile at the wrong people, and they’ll wonder what you’re up to. I feel for these folks.

Going for an early morning run through industrial areas of Los Angeles, I would make it a point to smile and greet everyone I encountered. The majority of these people would just look at me funny. Some would scowl, others would grunt, and oftentimes someone would literally be quite startled. But every time, the eyes would quickly be divereted, if any eye contact was made at all. And while I did get a few responses en español, it wasn’t a language barrier thing. Take for instance the one older Asian gentleman walking briskly who replied with a big grin and resounding, albeit thickly accented, Good Morning!

More recently, as I was running along Mission Bay in San Diego, many people out for their morning stroll would reply with a smile or at least a nod. But still, the majority would still appear a bit taken aback.

Is it big city shitty life that makes one so jaded? I believe it has more to do with lifestyle. Take the old Asian guy. He was healthy, happy, and he knew it. The hungover lookin’ gangsta type at a bus stop appeared to be none of the above.

I realized something after comparing these runs over the past few weeks. Those who were up early and walking or riding bikes because they needed to be were not very happy campers. Those out enjoying the morning air because they wanted to be seemed much happier.

Where in this wonderful world of ours have you been where you noticed people to be exceptionally happy? Or rude for that matter?

I would have to say everyone we’ve ever met at Vickers Ranch has always worn a smile. And Luckenbach must be one of the happiest places in the universe. It is the center after all, according to Hondo.