So long for now

All too soon, our road trip in the Southwest has ended, and my wife and I have returned to Washington state for a work obligation. It was a fabulous trip; thanks for letting me share some of our experiences with you.

We plan to go full-time soon, and I hope to revive Wanderlust then. So long for now.

Gerry Bruder

Camp host supreme

In our travels, we occasionally come across a memorial an RVer erected to a deceased pet. This one is in a primitive-camping area off Route S22 at the edge of Anza-Borrego Desert State Park in southern California. Apparently no pet is actually buried here; a fellow boondocker told me that Regis, a dog, is interred elsewhere, but that the owner put up the marker because he and Regis often camped in the area.

Camp host supreme. That inscription really fits the RV dog. Just as a human camp host is on hand in a conspicuous site to greet newcomers, a dog is right at the door of an RV when the owners return, welcoming them with wagging tail and grinning face. Just as a human host looks after the campground, a dog guards the RV. It chases off four-legged trespassers and barks to warn of approaching two-legged ones. And just as a human host is a VIP in the campground, a dog has special status in an RV: which member of an RV do you think gets the most cuddling and coddling?

Our own camp host supreme, Woody, a west highland terrier, is 14. When the time comes, my wife and I will put up a memorial for him, too.

Laughing Bird

The knock on the door came about an hour after my wife and I had drawn the shades for the night. Standing outside in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park in southern California were a lost couple. They had returned from a hike after dark and were having trouble finding their motorhome in the widely dispersed boondocking area. A faint window light had drawn them to our trailer.

I invited them to climb into our tow truck. While we were driving around looking for their Beaver Patriot, they introduced themselves. Tupelo and Janey Kenyon are musicians who perform as the duo "Laughing Bird." They sing and play a variety of instruments in a contemporary folk genre and have performed at hundreds of RV gatherings, including Quartzsite.

Soon, the motorhome appeared in the headlights. In gratitude they gave me three of their CDs. I returned in the morning to visit and learned that Tupelo and Janey have relied on RVs for travel between gigs for 28 years. One was a converted 1961 Air Force bus, which they knicknamed "Unc," for unconventional nifty contraption. They were living in Alaska then, and each year when winter approached, they drove Unc down the Alcan (Alaska) Highway to the lower 48 states for performances there.

In 1993 Tupelo and Janey downsized to a 19-foot Toyota Class C motorhome--they named it "Toolie"--for an 18-month tour in Mexico and Central America. "Often we'd just show up at some establishment and say, 'Hey, would you like some music?'" Janey says. "We'd play for free the first time, and if they liked us they'd pay us to come back." One such venture in Belize led to a six-week engagement at the bungalow of movie director, producer and screenwriter Francis Ford Coppola. At a scuba-diving resort on Roatan Island off Honduras, the Kenyons received free scuba lessons and use of equipment in exchange for performances.

A couple of years ago, deciding to upgrade for more room to carry their gear, they bought the current motorhome. In "Bailey" they drive 10,000 to 15,000 miles a year to about 50 gigs. "We never get tired of the driving," Tupelo says. "We love this lifestyle."

By now my wife and I have had a chance to listen to the CDs, and we agree that these folks are great! Tupelo and Janey love life and each other, and their personalities really come forth in their music. You can take a look at their performance schedule at www.laughingbirdmusic.com.

Use a checklist

Twice in the last 10 days I've noticed an RV leaving a campground area with its adjustable solar panels still in the raised position. Such carelessness risks loss of the panels from wind pressure and vibration. A raised panel that rips off when other traffic is near could cause an accident.

In the past I've also seen RVs driving down the road with the TV antenna deployed, with cargo, water and power access door unsecured, with the fuel cap off, and with vents and windows open.

You can avoid departure oversights like these by using a checklist, just as pilots do. The most effective checklist is a printed one, which minimizes the chance of forgetting an item. Pre-printed checklists are available, but since RVs vary greatly in size and complexity, it's best to create your own, geared to your particular equipment and configuration. Many RVers use checklists for both inside and outside. An inside list might include switches to turn off, such as inverter, water pump and water heater, and items to stow, like plants and the water kettle. The outside list is for access doors, hitching gear, power cord, water hose, etc.

Because much of the roof is out of view from the ground, you should climb the ladder and visually check things there: vents, antenna and, of course, adjustable solar panels.

A mental checklist also works, as long as you use a consistent, systematic routine.

Even after completing a checklist, it's wise to take a last look around. That way, you might catch something amiss that the checklist doesn't address--an open garbage bag in the truck bed, for instance.

Complacency and eagerness to get under way often cause people to neglect checklists. That's why airplanes crash and RVs leave the camping area with the solar panels raised.

Lunchtime visitor

I was sitting on a rock eating lunch in Hellhole Canyon, part of Anza-Borrego Desert State Park in California, when I looked around and discovered I was being watched from a lofty perch. This bighorn sheep was so close I didn't have to use full zoom on my digital camera. The animal cooperated just long enough for a photo, then turned and bounded off.

Earlier on the same hike, near the trailhead, I came upon the sign in the bottom photo, warning about.... Whatever the danger was, that portion of the sign was missing. You can't pick out the words in the photo, but a previous hiker had used a pen to write in one possibility: "Paparazzi in the bushes."

Hellhole Canyon is one of about 30 hikes listed in the Anza-Borrego brochure available at the visitor's center. Boondockers in the park can head off on a makeshift hike in just about any direction from their campsite.

Open boondocking

We had never been to Anza-Borrego Desert State Park in southern California, and it had a pleasant surprise for us when we arrived: free, unlimited boondocking within the park. Anza-Borrego is the only state park in California, and perhaps in the nation, to offer that privilege. For those who prefer them, developed campgrounds and RV parks are available, too.

Apparently the open boondocking policy is not widely publicized, because we noticed relatively few RVs taking advantage of it as we drove around to sightsee. The staff in the visitor's center gave us tips on the most popular places in the park to boondock. Watch out for the sand; we had to use four-wheel drive a couple of times as we checked out potential camping spots. More opportunities for boondocking lie on the BLM land adjacent to the park.

Anza-Borrego is the largest state park in California, a beautiful area with 600,000 acres of desert and mountains. The open boondocking is an invitation that says, "we're RV-friendly; linger and explore!"

Down to the sea

One day my wife and I were camping in the desert miles from surface water, and our windows looked out on saguaro and cholla cactus. The next day our trailer was on a beach just yards from lapping salt water, and we were watching gulls and pelicans. Such is the magic of a home on wheels. The water was the Salton Sea in southern California. Our original destination, after we left the desert in Arizona, had been Joshua Tree National Monument.

But a cold snap was gripping the Southwest, and the campgrounds in Joshua Tree lie at 3,000 feet or higher. As we refueled at a service station on Interstate 10, shivering in a biting north wind, we started wondering if it might be wiser to go downhill rather than up.

The next exit was the turn-off to Joshua Tree. We took the exit but headed south instead of north and found a lovely, quiet beach by the Salton Sea. There, we were 227 feet below sea level. And 10 degrees warmer than on the interstate. After the weather moderates, we'll head up to Joshua Tree.

Or maybe not. As RVers, we get to change our minds as often as we like.