Mike Tyson (former world heavyweight boxing champion)
I’ll be the first to admit my winter getaways aren’t all that exciting. But this is what I do know. It’s better than bundling up, hunkering inside, shoveling the white stuff or worse slipping on ice.
This winter I thought I had a viable game plan to sidestep my season of discontent. Unfortunately this go-around Mother Nature connected with a left jab to my mouth.
Here was my itinerary:
I spent December in an Old Town Snobsdale, AZ rental. Purpose? To hike in sunny and 60 plus degree weather, read Kindle books at poolside followed by Happy Hour and dinner.
What actually transpired:
Sanctuary One (my Toyota Tundra and camper) had an electronic seizure which ended up costing me $2,300 to repair. A financial OUCH!
Left knee arthritis got a whole lot worse resulting in two doctor visits plus two injections. Hiking in the nearby regional parks took a back seat to strolling on the Snobsdale bike paths.
I booked a consultation at the pricey Mayo Clinic about manly personal matters. An informative visit with no health resolutions.
Read all about it: https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2023/12/health-is-our-greatest-wealth.html
All in all, a subpar Snobsdale visit.
At the start of the New Year, I drove to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument to camp for three weeks.
Before I left Snobsdale, I checked the Weather Channel’s January forecast. The meteorologists predicted a cooler than average month in the Southwest.
It was.
In the time I was there, I broke an inside-the-camper low temperature record. 33 degrees. I flicked the furnace on most days. I hiked in the warmest part of the short days with the aid of poles and two injections.
More than 50% of the time it was cooler, breezier and cloudier than normal. My last days there were essentially sun-free and wet. It got so bad, I left a day early and was actually looking forward to spending two nights in a Yuma, AZ hotel. Yes, that’s desperate and bad, but not rock bottom. Yet.
By this time, I rated my energy level about 40-50%, my Mojo low with a side order of Meh.
This malaise even affected my reading habits. I’d get through about two/thirds of a book only to lose interest and start another Kindle download. It’s a good thing Kindle didn’t penalize me for incompletions.
BUT! On my lackluster feeling days, I managed to drive along Trump’s Wall to pen this asylum seekers post. Please read this Sambini investigative report:
BTW it poured enough in Yuma to create a parking lot sized Lake Superior.
After restocking my IPA, coffee and oh yeah food supplies, I then set off for Anza-Borrego State Park in California. It was a lovely almost week of camping and hiking until it wasn’t. Another El Niño driven surge of clammy watery weather was heading toward the Southwest and me.
The Weather Channel eggheads predicted a wet February in the Southwest.
It was the first weeks for sure.
So…I departed from Anza-Borrego to urban camp in Palm Springs to the tune of a $100/night campsite. Yes, it rained there too, and was chilly as well. BUT! I did get the chance to have an enthusiastic Happy Hour with those Endless Honeymooners from Fort Collins, Steve and Ginny.
I left the next morning after restocking once again for an anticipated 2-3 week campout in the largest National Park in the Lower 48. AKA Death Valley.
Between atmospheric river events, I managed to spend a day and night in Joshua Tree National Park. This was by far the bestest day of my entire winter getaway. I actually felt quite happy and content. (Probably because I was offline!)
Don’t get me wrong, I had other good days, but this one was stand alone outstanding.
After a peaceful night’s rest, I blasted out at to beat the next round of downpour’s and possible road closures. Destination: The Metroplex town of Shoshone, CA (population 18). This two-three block long village balances on the eastern edge of Death Valley National Park. It’s also the winter getaway destination to another pair of Endless Honeymooners, John and Sue.
After reconnecting with the happy couple, the rains and road closures began. For two Noah’s Ark nights I loitered in their palatial yet cozy 35 foot RV, complete with lounge chairs and a couch. Best of all (besides the companionship) was the working furnace.
Desperate times calls for desperate measures. After 48 hours of knee aching damp and chill, I decided to retreat to a dry, warm and roomier hotel room in Las Vegas. (AKA my least favorite city, which to me symbolizes all that is wrong with American. The materialism, get-rich quick schemes, debauchery and sleaziest of all, another Trump Tower Casino.)
It was there where I decided to stand by to see what Mother Nature wreaked upon Death Valley NP’s infrastructure. The following morning while feasting? on a Holiday Inn Express breakfast of powdered scrambled eggs and a bland toasted bagel with cream cheese, I checked the Weather Channel forecast for the Park. It wasn’t joy, joy, happy, happy. California Highway 190 which bisects Death Valley was flooded. The Weather Channel then flung salt at the open wound. Each and every campground I was going to visit required water wings.
You’d think by now I would have had enough, but NOOOO! Apparently, I’m a glutton for mental anguish. When I checked road conditions back to Durango most were under winter storm warnings, I decided to go full circle. I booked another VRBO in Snobsdale to ride out another week of winter.
Looking back, my kosher Spider-Man senses were whispering “This might be another VRBO scam.” There was no reviews of the property, nor host profile or contact information. Surely, this wouldn’t be the second VRBO scam I fell for in a little over a year.
It was. And don’t call me Shirley.
Check out the silverware draw and linen closet. Excessively Minimalistic even for me.
Read about the scam of December 2023.
At this moment Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler song started spinning in my brain. “You have to know when to hold em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run.”
The next morning, I called my credit card company to stop payment and began the long drive back to Durango.
En route I did a lot of thinking back to conversations with myself. They went like this, “Self! Why are you camping in winter? It hasn’t been working out in the past few years. You don’t have to do this. You have money. Buy airline tickets to other places!”
So that’s what I’ll be doing in my next season of discontent. I’ll leave Sanctuary One behind to spend time and money in Costa Rica? Cuba? Belize? Panama? Or Africa?
Here’s my final tale of winter woe.
When I was camping in Anza-Borrego State Park, a holding-hands senior couple moseying by got my attention while I was sunning myself and reading. The woman asked politely, “would you mind showing us your camper? We’re thinking of buying another kind of RV.”
“Not a problem. Come on over and I’ll give you the nickel tour. This won’t take long.”
I talked up Sanctuary One on its many attributes. I enthused about its efficient refrigerator, solar charged batteries, adequate storage space, 20 gallon water reservoir, kitchen sink, two burner stove, furnace, lights, comfy bed and “dining room” table. I told them stories of camping at 12,000 feet or in canyon country, where its 4x4 capabilities are utilized. Like a proud parent I showed them photos to prove my point.
“Wow! You sound like a commercial for Four Wheel Campers. Do you have any complaints?”
“Yeah. I’m alone.”
And that in a nutshell is what exasperates all the jabs, hooks and roundhouse punches life pitches at me on occasion. I have no one to commiserate with or to score a reassuring hug when
things are a bit off.
Stay well.
I’m looking forward to canyon season.
Cheers!
Jeff
