live. work. dream.

Going seasonal certainly has put the trip into roadtrip. After a couple quick months in our new mountain home, it was exciting to get back on the road, but it’s kinda weird to have settled right back down here at The Desert Rose while René is doing her time at Amazon. We are nowhere warm yet, so I wouldn’t say we quite qualify for true snowbird status yet. Leaving the house behind, however, officially signifies Phase II of our journey.

So, we have a new Maps page to commemorate the occasion. All our original travel maps from Phase I are still available to show where we’ve been. And now you can see with a quick glance at our new full-time RVer visited states map.

I’m just happy I didn’t have to manually design this map. While my search for a WordPress visited states map widget for RVers ended with me wondering if I’m the only out there who thinks such a plugin would be really cool, I did come across a couple websites for automatically generating colorful RVer maps of visited states ready for use on any website!

I used this visited states map generator to make the map above. Here is another RVer map maker that includes Canada and Mexico. Those Geeks On Tour folks even have an RV map making tutorial video showing how to use the latter on rv.net. Making the map was simple, the hardest part was figuring out where we’ve been. But that’s where those early maps proved helpful.

So, 36 states down, only 14 to go – though I’m not sure how we’re getting the rig to Hawaii. Aside from leaving the mainland, and navigating a few congested New England states, we can now say we have been just about everywhere, except the middle. Well, that’s what this whole phase II thing is all about, or perhaps Phases III and IV. Now that we have a home base, what’s the hurry?

It’s a good thing we left our summer home when we did, because we had obviously become complacent about life on the road. But I think after all that we went through in our first two days traveling again, we’re back in the game.

We left Red Feather on Saturday, after a light snowfall that seemed like Mother Nature’s final warning to get out before it was too late (and no, Balloon Boy couldn’t have helped us either). As soon as ascended the 10,000+ foot Rockies heading West, the sky turned dark, then snow, sleet and wind followed. Strike One.

Ignore Native Hitchhikers at Your Own Risk

We hit the Utah state line at dusk, looking for place to boondock. But the welcome center was quite unwelcoming, with it’s ban on overnight camping, so we jumped back on I-70 to find another spot. We had forgotten to fuel up then, but freeway signs said a gas station was ahead, so we weren’t concerned. We exited to fuel up, but when we got to the station, our jaws dropped. The pumps were closed. Permanently. Strike Two.

Our Dodge’s Distance to Empty readout said we had 110 miles left on the tank. The next fuel was 65 miles away. In 2 years and 35,000 miles of fulltiming, the only other time we pushed the envelope like that was in Texas, and we made it. So we kept driving, holding our breath and trying not to panic. As we got back on I-70, we drove past a hitchhiking Native American, who gave us a long look as Jim muttered “Sorrrrrrrry guy.”

We were confident we could make it to the next station. But what we didn’t count on, was the heavy crosswinds that made our fuel economy drop faster than we expected. Before we knew it, our DTE readout just kept flashing the words “FUEL LOW…FUEL LOW…FUEL LOW”

That’s when we knew we were in trouble. The old Native had put a hex on us. Strike Three.

The engine shut down on the side of I-70, less than one mile from another visitor center and four miles from the next gas station. We rolled to a stop and I did my best not to panic (staying calm is not one of my best attributes). Jim grabbed our two cans of gasoline for our generator. Being a good environmentalist, he didn’t want to just dump it, so he thought he would give away the gas to someone at the visitor’s center then bribe another driver to refill them with diesel. He rode off into the night on his bike.

Down and Out but Not Alone

While he was gone, I stayed in the rig with Wyatt, who was doing a good job panicking for the two of us. As I looked out the back window, hoping to see a cop stop (do they even help stranded travelers anymore?), I spotted a car slowly moving toward us in the emergency lane.

The car’s hazards were flashing, then it came to a stop behind us. At that point, two scenarios are going through my mind; either he’s a psychopath who saw Jim leave and has plans to kill me, or he’s stranded too. But what were the chances that on this 100 mile stretch of highway, another traveler would break down behind us?

The chances were excellent that day.

The guy got out and went over to the rig, but kept walking. Being a lone female on the road, I wasn’t about to get out and talk to him, and figured he might catch up with Jim. I thought to myself how nice it was to have a vehicle as a crash barrier behind us.

Minutes later, Jim returned with a kind stranger from Arkansas, who was driving a Mercedes Diesel. I got out of the trailer, assured that the other stranded traveler wasn’t going to kill me with Jim and the other guy around. I asked him what happened. Apparently he ran out of gas too. As we stood outside commiserating, I did my best to ignore Wyatt Ray, who was inside, panicking and tearing at the screen door.

The Arkansasan was nice enough to come to the rig so Jim could siphon more than the 3 gallons our cans would hold. But siphoning wasn’t working. Apparently the geniuses at Mercedes have put anti-theft devices in the car’s tanks. Another strike! The stranger wished us well, and left.

Jim headed back to the visitor’s center, where a generous trucker let Jim fill up his cans. When Jim returned with diesel, he remembered: we still had a gallon of gas in our generator. By 8pm with enough fuel to get our fellow traveler started, and diesel for us, we all headed to the filling station, less than four miles away.

The stranger turned out to be a decent guy, who had a great old dog with him. I think the universe sent him our way, because if it wasn’t for him and his dog being there to lighten the mood, Jim and I might have killed each other.

Thing Couldn’t Get Worse, Right?

We said our goodbyes, and minutes later found a truck stop with a restaurant. Poor Wyatt, he was in a complete state of panic now. This is his first real road trip experience, and he was losing it.

We fed and tried to calm him, then crated him in his RV-friendly soft-sided crate. Off we went to grab a bite to eat, but with each tick of the clock, I keep hearing the warnings I got from other dog people, who said that collapsible crates won’t hold a panicked dog inside.

With food in my belly and feeling much better, on our way back to the rig, I fell into a ditch.

A wet, mucky ditch. Yep. No joke. And that’s when I lost it. I cried and whined as I walked back with my foot soaked in what I hoped was just mud.

We approached the trailer, and could hear Wyatt moving around. As Jim opened the door he was greeted by a hideous stench, and copious amounts of runny dog poo all over the floor.

Poor Wyatt, he escaped from his crate, and was so upset, his butt exploded everywhere!

Then, I really lost it. Flipped out. Cried, Threw a tantrum. Made Jim take Wyatt away for a very long time while I wet down the rugs with our outdoor shower. The trucker next to us got dinner and a show.

With the rugs outside and Wyatt tucked in for the night, Jim and I crashed hard. Late at night we heard Wyatt whining at one point, but opted to see if he would whine a little louder, figuring if he really had to go . . .

He never whined again that night. Instead, he just crapped all over the rig. Again.

Such a lovely way to wake up the next day, our second day on the road.

Keep Smiling, Keep Driving

We survived, and after all that, I think that we did pretty good. We’re still talking to each other, and I resisted the temptation to ditch Wyatt in Green River, Utah (haha, just kidding!).

Things could’ve been so much worse. In 12 years of marriage, we’ve never tried harder not to fight or bicker. And through this ordeal, we think we did pretty good. In the middle of it all, we just had to accept that no amount of screaming was going to fix the “crappy situation” we had gotten ourselves into.

Keeping a sense of humor is definitely key to living on the road, which brings with it a life of uncertainty, and oftentimes, mis-adventure.

You know all those appliance manuals that came with you RV? Dig them out from under the bed and read them, at least once a year. It will remind you of certain things you need to maintain to keep your rig in prime operating condition.

Take for instance the water heater. It has an easily accessible anode rod that should be replaced at least annually. All RV water heaters are protected by this magnesium or aluminum anode to prolong the life of the tank by absorbing the corrosive action of hot water. Basically, it will corrode before the tank does. And if it corrodes entirely, it can no longer do its job.

This is just one of those little things we forgot all about. And we are not alone. But it is also one of the most simple items on the honey-do list of any RVer. Just make sure the hot water has been turned off for a while or you may get scalded, and that your hose is disconnected so the system is not pressurized.

Then release any pressure in the water heater tank by pulling its relief valve. Now get yourself a deep socket – the rod in our Suburban water heater has 1 1/16″ head – and loosen the threaded anode rod at the bottom of the water heater. (Yes, from outside your rig.) Let all the water drain and flush out any debris with a hose. this took me a while because we had accumulated quite a bit of debris as you can see by how our old anode looked.

Replacement anode rods can be found at any RV parts counter or service center. To prevent leakage, apply teflon tape to the threads before screwing in the new anode. Make sure it is screwed in straight and secure, fill the tank, run a faucet to allow any trapped air to escape, turn on the heater, and you’re set for another few months. Or at least until you remember you forgot all about the water heater anode again.

In Colorado, it’s easy to find biodiesel distributors in major cities along the Front Range. We recently fueled up in Fort Collins, and were pleased to find that the cost of biodiesel was more reasonable than ever. It was about nine cents higher per gallon than regular diesel, but not as bad as the last time we went looking for it.

But my joy at the cheap price quickly disappeared a few days later, when I read the latest news about the biodiesel industry’s assault on the rain forest and orangutans. As oil prices rise, the industry is  accelerating rain forest destruction, just to grow the palm trees needed to produce this alternative to oil. Manufactured biodiesel is now as morally corrupt as anything big oil manufactures, if not worse.

I used to be a real believer in biodiesel. But these recent relevations are just so depressing. From now on, we’ll only be purchasing biodiesel if it’s made from 100 percent waste oil, or we’re making it ourselves.

I’m embarrassed to say that like most Americans, Jim and I have done relatively little foreign travel. We’ve been to Spain, Canada and Mexico, and that’s it. But while we do aspire to be globe hoppers, until we feel like we’ve uncovered enough of the best places in this gigantic country of ours, we’ll stick to the highways and byways of America.

Even after two years of living on the road, Jamie Jensen’s book Road Trip USA: Cross Country Adventures on America’s Two Lane Highways has been helping us uncover countless hidden gems along the way. With our limited bookshelf space in the rig, this is one book that we’ll never let go of.

See What’s Really Out There

The newest edition of Road Trip USA has just been released, along with two pocket guides – Road Trip USA Pacific Coast Highway Guide and Road Trip USA Route 66 Guide. If you’re like us, and drive the blue highways instead interstates, while seeking local Mom and Pop cafes and sticking it to Starbucks, you need these books.

Jamie Jensen’s books suggest 11 distinct road trips bisecting the U.S. From north to south, or east to west, the classic routes include The Pacific Coast Highway, Route 66, the Great River Road, and the Appalachian Trail. Detailed maps and clear directions to plenty of points of interest provide for unlimited day trips and side excursions. You’ll also find accurate contact information for lodging, car rental companies, state tourism boards, and road condition numbers.

The best part of Jamie’s books are their emphasis on finding the quirkier, offbeat attractions and towns across America. While there’s enough useful information about major cities and attractions to give you a head start on your research, Road Trip Nation will help you plan more unusual itineraries.

Plan Your Next Offbeat Adventure

The Atomic Tourist, for instance, might select a route from the Trinity Test Site in New Mexico, to the Titan Missile Museum in San Xavier, AZ, to Arco, Idaho, home of the remains of the Experimental Breeder Reactor Number One.

Music lovers will enjoy discovering blues festivals in the south, and cowboy gatherings in the West.

Teetotalling travelers can find their way from the wineries of Westfield, NY to Napa, CA, to the world’s biggest six pack in Lacrosse, WI. They’ll also learn to steer clear of Shamrock Texas on St. Patrick’s Day, even though they could kiss an actual piece of the Blarney Stone in that town’s Elmore Park. Why stay away? Because Shamrock is a dry town.

Road Trip USA identifies attractions one might easily otherwise miss, like the birthplace (and burial site) of On the Road author Jack Kerouac, just 20 miles off highway 2 in Lowell, MA. And how else would you know where the geographical center of North America is? (the answer: Rugby, ND). You’ll discover things like just how many places in the U.S. claim to be the home of Paul Bunyan. Statues of the Lumberjack giant can be found from Maine to Minnesota to our old stomping grounds of Northern California.

It’s also a useful tool that teaches you how to properly pronounce town names before you arrive and look like a tourist. Learn how Sequim, WA is really annunciated (“Skwim”), or Cairo, IL (Ki-Ro).

The only problem with Road Trip USA is that there is so much information, if you forget to consult it before planning your itinerary, you could miss important landmarks like we have. For instance, we passed by the World Largest Frying Pan in Long Beach, WA, and in that same trip, drove right through Curt Cobain’s hometown of Abereen, WA (may he rest in peace!) without even knowing it until later when flipping through the book.

Try Jamie’s Handy Pocket Guides for Short Trips

Road Trip USA’s Pacific Coast Highway Guide and the Road Trip USA Route 66 Guide are a neat addition to Jamie’s encyclopedia of quirky attractions. They’re jam packed with useful information, and you won’t have to lug around the biblical-sized Road Trip USA book if you’re just traveling within those geographic areas.

As West Coast natives, we’ve frequented a lot of his selections in the Pacific Coast Highway Guide, and have to say that his descriptions are accurate, truthful and unbiased.

We wish we had these books when we lived on the West Coast, as Jamie reveals stuff about places we’ve been to but were oblivious to some local finds, like the Olympic Game Farm in Washington. We thought it was a repulsive canned hunt farm, but it turns out to be a home to retired Hollywood animal actors!

The Route 66 Guide is also handy for anyone traveling near that famous route. You don’t have to follow it exactly, as Jamie offers lots of tips and ideas for attractions that are within a reasonable distance of the original highway. We especially enjoyed how he lists local indie radio stations for drivers to listen to, which can give you a taste of local flavor far better than any syndicated radio station can.

So turn off that satellite radio, drive off the interstates and onto the blue highways, and go find the real spirit of America, because believe it or not, it is alive and well. You just have to look harder these days to find it. But first, pick up your copy of Road Trip USA today.

Stay tuned for a guest post from Jamie, about ways you can save money on the road while traveling . . .

Almost a year to the date we were in Luckenbach last year with Jerry, we returned to boondock in the same field in April. Remembering the fun Jerry had romping in their field and hanging out at the bar was bittersweet, but the kind folks, cold beer and incredible music of Luckenbach helped to soothe our aching hearts just a little.

How comforting it was to see that some things stay the same. Musican/bartender Danny Terry was still there, and Tuesday night, master fiddler and guitar player Levi Darr and friends jammed at the pickin’ circle.

Poor Levi wasn’t so lucky that night. During a break he got served by the local sheriff for something, but without hesitation he returned to the pickin’ circle, looked at the audience with a cute smirk on his face, and lit the place on fire! Nothing like suffering to make creativity blossom.

We had only planned to stay there four nights (despite the latest increase from $10 to $15 a night to camp in their field…ouch!), but Friday night after the big dance, those big Texas skies opened up. By Saturday morning, there were lightning shows, golfball sized hail, and three inches of water on the field surrounding our trailer.

Later that day, I got the truck stuck in wet, soggy mud while leaving to go shopping, and that’s when we realized we weren’t going anywhere for at least another day.

While there are far worse places to be stuck in, we were running out of waste water tank space, and after five days at the bar, the accumulation of smoke in our hair and our increasingly swollen beer bellies was getting old.

Thankfully, on Saturday afternoon, the sun came out and dried the field. On Sunday, Jim was able to carefully navigate the trailer back onto the road.

Another lesson learned in Texas: If the skies open up and you’re parked off pavement, move!

Here’s a five-song playlist of the great bands we saw.

Forget what the Department of Homeland Security says. Not all border crossings are identical. Each point of entry seems to have its own quirks about what proves you’re a citizen.

In Douglas Arizona, we sashayed into Mexico on foot. The crossing was free, and we showed our California driver’s licenses as proof of nationality.

In Del Rio, Texas, crossing over on foot wasn’t so easy.

First, we had to walk a mile out of the way because of the stupid border fence construction. Then, we were forced to pay seventy five cents per person, just to walk across a mile long bridge over the Rio Grande, and into Mexico. Upon our return, we had to pay again, then show our birth certificates and driver’s licenses to the border patrol. Good thing we took ‘em, because there was no indication that they were required on the U.S. side when we went into Mexico. After June 1st, supposedly everyone will need a passport.

During our long walk over the bridge into Mexico, an old Mexican man was walking in front of us, carrying grocery bags. A guy in a pickup pulled over to offer him a ride into town. It took us a second to realize that he was also offering us a ride. The old guy got in, but we said “No gracias.” This was one of those situations in which we really wanted to believe in the best of humanity, but just couldn’t bring ourselves to take him up on the offer, with all of the borderlands violence we’ve heard about.

Was crossing over for the day worth it? Not really. We could’ve had the same experience in the nearest Texas ghetto. And like my Dad says, border towns aren’t the real Mexico. They’re so geared toward tourists that any trace of authenticity is gone.

Well, not everything. You’ll still find potholed streets, dirty air, crumbling sidewalks and hooker bars. But keep in mind that if you go, you’re going to get harassed beyond belief by aggressive storekeepers who are obviously hurting because of the U.S. recession.

As far as the reported threats of violence in border towns, we never once felt like we were in any danger, but then again, we didn’t venture too far out of the fake touristy areas, or take rides with strangers.

We are quickly approaching our two year anniversary of being on the road, and we have no intention of stopping. We’ll keep traveling and working seasonally around the country, but we’d still like to park occasionally on our own piece of land.

Our plan is to buy a small parcel in Colorado, and another one somewhere in Texas. Still, we’re keeping our options open as far as locations go. On our way to Texas, we stopped in three towns I’ve heard a lot of good things about.

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One of the great things about meeting people online is you tend to immediately share something in common. Friendships are started based on a shared interest, whether it’s dogs, RVing, or whatever.

We met Joel and Ross online in 2006, when Jerry was diagnosed with cancer. Their Great Dane Moose was on the same path, and throughout the next two years, we became friends. Joel and Ross sounded like such nice people, and gave us an open invitation to stop by and visit them in Paso Robles, near San Luis Obispo, CA. “Be careful what you ask for,” we warned them, and showed up after leaving L.A.

What a fun surprise it was to learn we had other things in common besides our heroic dogs. Joel and Ross live on five rural acres, in a solar-powered house, and even drive an electric car. They have many animals, and a great little garden too. Their compound resembles what Jim and I envision for ourselves someday. Here’s a clip of Joel giving a tour of his gopher-proof greenhouse:

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.

Made famous by its appearance in the movie “Into the Wild,” Slab City wasn’t on our radar until our friend Skinny Chef asked if we wanted to meet her there. Then coincidentally, I found this blog entry, by a young RVing couple we met back in South Carolina;

“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.

What Slab City Is:

• 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.