There is no place to go but everywhere, so just keep on rollin' under the stars-Jack Keurac. Traveling the USA with The Chiweenie Brothers
Hello! Welcome to my blog. I am a full-time traveler, retired from a lifetime of different occupations, traveling the country with my two little dogs, Fries and Charlie B; The Chiweenie Brothers. You never know where you might find us, but if you do stop by and say hi . . . If you can get past the two best watch dogs in the universe! Happy Trails!
I am finally getting to see the old mining town of Oatman, AZ and the famous wild herd of tame donkeys. That’s an oxymoron, but the donks are technically wild, but have declared Oatman part of their territory and wander freely around town taking hay cubes from enthralled visitors, crowding around cars, some are even bold enough to enter a business or two.
I have followed the Oatman Burros FaceBook page for quite a while and it’s a great way to follow what these adorable animals are up to. Or what sneaky, evil persons do.
The young donkey abandoned by his mother last year was adopted and cared for by a young couple who live in Oatman. Walter has since become the Mayor of the town, has his own book and occasionally comes to town for book signings.
On the other side of the coin, a couple of gals came in one night and donkey-napped the young and adored Tinkerbell—Read the last two sentences on the above sign. Those two are facing federal charges. Thankfully Tink was found, unharmed, and brought back to Oatman. She had some tough times from the herd (burros are territorial), but eventually became part of the group that Bureau of Land Management auctioned off to vetted homes. Happily, she ended up back in Oatman with her adoptive family.
My trip to Oatman will always be a highlight for me. This little old mining town is authentic and charming and the donkeys that freely roam the streets capturing hearts are the icing on the cake. They are actually the biggest draw I think, but don’t let that sway you from coming to town. Even without the burros this town is a place to see. And their souvenirs weren’t priced outrageously either.
Write title? I have no idea how to get rid of this, but it is a view from last night’s campsite. The new WordPress editor is hateful.
Baby Hank is the current draw in the Oatman donkey herd. His mom, Annabelle, wanted to make sure I meant no harm when I wanted to cuddle him and she nipped me on the arm. Not hard, but I think she wanted to make sure I wasn’t one of those donkeynappers who took her Tinkerbell last year.
When the day was over I wanted to say goodbye to this cutie and make friends with Annabelle. She pulled the bag I was carrying my new Oatman hoodie in out of my hand and started chewing on it. I got it back from her with a bit of tug-o-war. I think she was smiling when I prevailed.
Wondering what is on Baby Hank’s forehead? It is a sticker that says STOP, do not feed the babies anything. They don’t want any of the donkeys to be fed carrots, apples, any human food actually. The sugar in apples, carrots, ect., can cause health issues for these guys. Even hay cubes are forbidden for the young Hank as I found out the hard way. Got a good scolding from the fans of the Oatman Burros’ FB page. He was eating them in front of a store, so I thought …
Oatman is still on my Bucket List. I didn’t mark it off because I will be going back! Thanks for coming along. Hugs, Shawna.
P.S. The Chiweenie Brothers were sad they didn’t get to see the donkeys, but the donkeys don’t like dogs and the town asks that you leave them in your vehicle. There have been a few stompings and it can get ugly.
Current Read: The Willows in Winter by William Horwood. Excellent sequel to Kenneth Grahame’s Wind in the Willows.
December 17, 2020. I spent a couple of days reorganizing and re-doing the inside of MissAdventure. The bed platform needed a bit of tweeking, and I had bought a couple of cabinets from a lady down the street from me and needed to install them. Now that we are not living full time in the van I am going for a more cute and stylish look rather than stuffing everything I own into every nook and cranny I could find. It will be nice to have items with a permanent place and out of sight!
My first dental appointment is Friday, but we leave in the early afternoon Thursday because no trip to Yuma is complete without time spent at the Bark Park and I want to make sure The Chiweenie Brothers have a great time. I get in a lot of walking, and an afternoon’s worth of running, hiking (in every sense of the doggie version of ‘hiking’) and sniffing for the boys leave all three of us worn completely out.
We spend the night in Wally’s parking lot only to wake up and find a flyer on the windshield stating they no longer allow overnights in their lot. Alrighty then. We head out onto I-8 West toward San Diego, and in just 8 short miles we take exit 166 and head south to the border and my dental appointment with Dr. Dennis Cochran, DDS, whose goal is the become the best dentist in Mexico. She’s on her way to being that in my opinion.
She preps my mouth for the ‘installation’ of two zirconia crowns on the implants I had put in a couple of years ago, takes impressions and I’m set free until tomorrow. Our adventure part of the trip begins.
I looked up a couple of places I wanted to see this trip and first up and just a few exits from the one I take to get to Los Algadones is Old Plank Road off Gray’s Well. This is a small preserved section of the wooden plank road built to connect the lower section of Southern California to Arizona. Built in 1915 the east-west route over the Algodones Dunes provided the last link of the commercial route between San Diego and Yuma.
Constructed of huge, thick, wooden planks linked together with metal strips and big bolts, it is a testament to man’s ingenuity of doing what needs to be done to go where he needs to go. I cannot even fathom the work that went into this endeavor nor the muscle used to keep the planks free of blowing sand.
Not wanting to press my luck with trying another night at Wally, the boys and I locate a LTVA (Long Term Visitor Area) off Sidewinder Road and ask the host if there is a section where one could park just for the night. He says no, not in this one, but if I go back to the Chevron Station just this side of the freeway and take the service road for 3 miles there is a 14 day stay free area right after the pavement ends.
This service road may be paved but it’s the roughest damn thing ever. Slowly we drive, slowly we get there rolling forward a few feet, BUMP, and then another few feet and the back wheels BUMP, and so it goes for three long miles, but we finally arrive and shockingly nothing inside MissAdventure has been jarred out of place or fallen over. We are rewarded with a nice spot to park for the night with no neighbors within 1/4 mile.
After a good night’s sleep we are up early and head back to Yuma on the 8 and I head into Walmart to purchase a new battery for my solar setup in the van and get a few groceries. A quick stop at the ATM to pull funds for my crowns and we head back to Mexico for my 10:00 a.m. appointment.
The second half of the crowning appointment didn’t go quite as planned. Due to a power outage my zirconia crowns are not ready and I sit in the reception area for four hours. They must have noticed me getting a bit worried when it got to be 1:00 p.m. and I kept looking at my watch wondering if I would get back into the US before they closed the border at 3:00. Poor doggies still in the van all this time.
The receptionist, Margot, a VERY young lady, asks if I want to go see the new office they are moving into next year. I jump at the chance to get my mind off the border crossing and my boys being stuck in the van all this time. We walk out to the sidewalk between two vendors where her scooter is parked and she tells me to wait, she will go get the car.
Margot makes it back in jig time in a beautiful what-looks-like- brand-new white four door Chevy. Is this Dr. Dennis’ car? Yes, she says. I hop in and we buzz along back toward the crossing and she makes a right turn and up the hill we go getting a few looks from some pedestrians as she whizzes by leaving a hair’s breadth of space between them and the side of the vehicle. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding when she pulls in and parks in front of Dr. Dennis’ new place.
It’s big. It’s beautiful. The interior has some Spanish style roundtop windowless cutouts in walls between some of the rooms, and there is room left for her to expand her business. In my opinion no one deserves it more than this young hard working dentist that wants to become the best dentist in Mexico. From one chair to two, and with this move two chairs and a dental surgeon she will rent to. She’s smart as well as deserving.
Part of the interior walls are painted this gorgeous shade of green, one of my favorite colors. The perfect shade. That, of course, has no bearing on my love of her new building. 🙂 We wave goodbye to the young man swiping what looks like spackle onto a section of the entry and get into the car.
Young Margot starts the car and begins to back up. I glance behind us just as a woman begins to step behind the car. I yell stop and Margot slams on the brake. The pedestrian glares and Margot laughs and says she glad she didn’t hit her. Oh yeah, me too!! I’m grateful she didn’t hit any cars either, I think to myself.
Margot says when she was hired Dr. Dennis (and this is pronounced like our female Denise) asked her if she could drive. Margot told her yes, and that she had a license. Welllll. Margot confides in me that she just said that so she would get hired, that she doesn’t have a license. You told her the truth, though, right Margot? She laughs and says yes, after she was hired. Oh dear Lord. 🙂
When we get back to the office I am whisked into a chair and the crowns are screwed onto the posts and cemented around the bottom or whatever it is they do. I won’t be able to eat for an hour. Lordy, it’s been a good eight hours since I have eaten, but I still have enough padding to get me by I am sure despite what my stomach is telling me.
There is a line today to get back across the border, as there always is when you stay in Mexico past noon, and that gobbles up a good half hour. People are desperate in this Covid pandemic and the usual vendors who ply the line headed back across to the USA seem especially desperate. Selling everything from masks to yard ornaments to ironwood statues these merchants have a different look in their eyes this year.
One young woman with two little girls sits on the low rock wall playing an accordion. She looks tired and sad. As I get closer I see a quiet desperation in her lovely eyes and I give her a dollar. The look she gives me and the quiet ‘gracias’ in thanks breaks my heart. It’s a dollar; her gratitude and her eyes tell me it might as well have been a hundred as far as she was concerned.
Spending more time waiting for my dental work to be finished than I planned on, I forego the other places I wanted to explore and will save them for next time, but I do stop to get these photos of the All American Canal.
The All-American Canal is an 80-mile long aqueduct, located in southeastern California. It conveys water from the Colorado River into the Imperial Valley and to nine cities. It is the Imperial Valley’s only water source, and replaced the Alamo Canal, which was located mostly in Mexico. The Imperial Dam, about 30 miles northeast of Yuma, Arizona on the Colorado River, diverts water into the All-American Canal, which runs to just west of Calexico, California before its last branch heads mostly north into the Imperial Valley. Five smaller canals branching off the All American Canal move water into the Imperial Valley. These canal systems irrigate up to 630,000 acres of crop land and have made possible a greatly increased crop yield in this area, originally one of the driest on earth. It is the largest irrigation canal in the world, carrying a maximum of 26,155 cubic feet per second. Agricultural runoff from the All American Canal drains into the Salton Sea.
The wait in line to cross the border, stopping for the photos of the canal and the short trip back to Yuma with some traffic eats up most of the Do-Not-Eat-For-An-Hour order I decide to stop at In and Out for a burger. The line is long and it takes about 40 minutes so I am good to go… I mean eat. A burger never tasted so good!! The Chiweenie Brothers enjoy an unsalted hamburger patty and we are on our way home.
Thanks for stopping by 2DogsTravel. We are hoping for more travel in the coming year. Praying all your hopes come to pass also. Hugs, Shawna
Books read since last post: Valentine by Elizabeth Wetmore. Very good read about a rape and the effects on the victim, the town and its citizens. *****
This Magnificent Dappled Sea by David Biro. The Holocaust, an Italian family, a Jewish family, a baby, a disease. Another good read. ****
The Ultimate Road Trip Guide by Christina Bogantz and Melissa Rios. Their trip to visit 47 state parks in two months. Some good info here. ****
November 13, 2020, will be the second of 2020’s two Friday the 13ths. This Friday the 13th comes exactly 39 weeks – that is, the number 3 multiplied by the number 13 – before the next Friday the 13th on August 13, 2021. Whee! Sharing is caring!
Scared of Friday the 13th? An irrational fear of this date is called friggatriskaidekaphobia (Frigga is the Norse goddess for whom Friday is named). Image via Kelli Marshall.
Friday, November 13, 2020, presents the second of two Friday the 13ths in 2020. Any calendar year has a minimum of one Friday the 13th, and a maximum of three Friday the 13ths. The last time we had only one Friday the 13th in a calendar year was in May 2016 and the next time won’t be until August 2021. Three Friday the 13ths last took place in 2015 (February, March, November), and will next happen in 2026 (February, March, November). This year, 2020, has two Friday the 13ths: March and November.
Not that we at EarthSky suffer from friggatriskaidekaphobia – an irrational fear of Friday the 13th – but, gosh darn, the Friday the 13th of November 2020 occurs exactly 39 (3 x 13) weeks before next year’s sole Friday the 13th on August 13, 2021.
And that’s after this year’s first Friday the 13th – March 13, 2020 – happened exactly 13 weeks after the previous Friday the 13th in December 2019.
Or we could look ahead to the year 2022. That year’s sole Friday the 13th on May 13, 2022, will come exactly 39 (3 x 13) weeks after the Friday the 13th on August 13, 2021.
Yikes, these few coincidences involving the number 13 are only the tip of the iceberg. We could cite many more …
Keep reading to investigate the intriguing mathematics behind Friday the 13th and the calendar.
Gioachino Rossini, a 19th century Italian composer.
Folklorists say there’s no written evidence that Friday the 13th was considered unlucky before the 19th century. The earliest known documented reference in English appears to be in Henry Sutherland Edwards’ 1869 biography of Rossini.
Are all these Friday the 13ths a super coincidence? Super unlucky? Neither. They’re just a quirk of our calendar.
Still, Friday has always gotten a bad rap. In the Middle Ages, people would not marry – or set out on a journey – on a Friday.
There are also some links between Christianity and an ill association with either Fridays or the number 13. Jesus was said to be crucified on a Friday. Seating 13 people at a table was seen as bad luck because Judas Iscariot, the disciple who betrayed Jesus, is said to have been the 13th guest at the Last Supper. Meanwhile, our word for Friday comes from Frigga, an ancient Scandinavian fertility and love goddess. Christians called Frigga a witch and Friday the witches’ Sabbath.
In modern times, the slasher-movie franchise Friday the 13th has helped keep friggatriskaidekaphobia alive. We have two Friday the 13ths in 2020 – in March and November – because 2020 is a leap year of 366 days that starts on a Wednesday. Whenever a leap year of 366 days starts on a Wednesday, it’s inevitable that the months of March and November will start on a Sunday. And any month starting on a Sunday will have a Friday the 13th.
The last time a leap year started on a Wednesday was 28 years ago, in the year 1992, and the next time will be 28 years from 2020, in the year 2048. The final leap year to begin on a Wednesday in the 21st century (2001 to 2100) will occur 28 years after 2048, in the year 2076.
In the 21st century (2001 to 2100), we have a total of three leap years starting on a Wednesday: 2020, 2048 and 2076.
In addition, when any common year of 365 days begins on a Thursday, there are three Friday the 13ths: February, March and November. This triple header last happened five years ago, in February, March and November of 2015, and will next happen six years from 2020, in the February, March and November of 2026.
In a common year of 365 days, the weekdays and calendar dates in February always match the first 28 days of March. So any common year sporting a Friday the 13th in February always features a Friday the 13th in March.
In any year, whether it be a leap year or a common year, the first 30 days of March always match all 30 days of November. So any year having a Friday the 13th in March will also have a Friday the 13th in November.
Some of you may wonder if there’s some formula that governs how this Friday the 13th drama repeats itself. The answer is yes!
These triple February-March-November Friday the 13th common years come exactly 6, 17 and 23 years after a March-November Friday the 13th leap year, which recurs in periods of 28 years for the rest of the 21st century (2001 to 2100). Hence:
1992 (March-November Friday the 13th leap year)
1992 + 6 = 1998 (February-March-November common year) 1992 + 17 = 2009 (February-March-November common year) 1992 + 23 = 2015 (February-March-November common year)
2020 (March-November Friday the 13th leap year)
2020 + 6 = 2026 (February-March-November common year) 2020 + 17 = 2037 (February-March-November common year) 2020 + 23 = 2043 (February-March-November common year)
2048 (March-November Friday the 13th leap year)
2048 + 6 = 2054 (February-March-November common year) 2048 + 17 = 2065 (February-March-November common year) 2048 + 23 = 2071 (February-March-November common year)
2076 (March-November Friday the 13th leap year)
2076 + 6 = 2082 (February-March-November common year) 2076 + 17 = 2093 (February-March-November common year) 2076 + 23 = 2099 (February-March-November common year)
As magical as all of this Friday the 13th calendar intrigue appears to be, it’s not supernatural. It’s entertaining number play, even if it may haunt our uncomprehending minds.
Bottom line: November 13, 2020, is the second of 2020’s two Friday the 13ths. This Friday the 13th comes exactly 39 weeks – that is, the number 3 multiplied by the number 13 – before the next Friday the 13th on August 13, 2021.
I hope you enjoyed this bit of Friday the 13th information. Don’t walk on any sidewalk cracks or under any ladders today!! Hugs, Shawna
RECENT READS: October being the spooky month I was heavy into Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Blake Crouch: The Institute, Odd Thomas, Recursion, The Outsider. Current read is Odd Thomas. It’s hard to put down, rich in detail and descriptive adjectives.
October 13 to October 16 . 2020 for most of us has been the year we’d like to forget. Covid, lockdowns, closures, and stay-at-home orders re-invented a lot of lives. Arizona, our new home base, experienced the hottest summer ever and broke many records. Right here in our little piece of this beautiful state saw almost a week of 120 degree plus temps; the rest were 110 plus. Oi vey.
Not being able to enter New Mexico to finish up our state parks pass and having some new plantings in the yard to keep alive we decided to just stay put. Until recently that is. The weather up until mid-October has stayed hotter than usual, but the higher elevations are beginning to cool down and plans were made with previous Interesting Person, Sylvia, to camp for a couple of days near Prescostt AZ.
White Spar is a medium-use USDA Forest Service campground and I have never not found a spot, but I didn’t take into account it is still 2020. The plan was to meet at White Spar. My Camping Buddy tells me she is leaving around 4:30 a.m. to beat the morning commute in Phoenix and will wait in the parking lot of the trail head and read and/or walk the campground while waiting for me. I rise early, too, but do not drive anymore before the landscape can be seen and tell her I will be leaving about 10 and see her about noon.
Feeling guilty (a bad habit of mine) that she will be waiting all that time cooling her heels I buy ice, load the groceries, and get the last minute things loaded up the night before and the Chiweenie Brothers and I are ready to roll at first light. I enjoy the two hour drive, and the boys are excited to be on the road. We’re in the Honda CRV instead of the van, trying out car camping, and they have a bird’s eye view of the road ahead as the mattress from the van just fits in the back of the Honda and brings them up high enough to see out the windshield. Happy little chiweenies!
The air gets cooler as we climb past Yarnell. Once we begin the second half of the climb, about 10 miles worth, the road is two-lane, narrow, and takes all my attention, but it’s a slow enough go to enjoy the cool morning air through the open driver’s window. Lovin’ it!!
I make note of the entrance to Wolf Creek Campground as we pass and cringe. It appears to have had a LOT of traffic recently; it’s fine powdered dust indicating a lot of use. That could be a backup if needed, but I surely do not want that dust sifting up under my back window that no longer closes all the way. A couple miles up the road we come to White Spar.
I park at the trail head—day use only—and leash up The Boys so they can relieve themselves then we walk the parking lot looking for Sylvia. She is not parked here. We walk it again to make sure; I don’t see her silver SUV.
Climbing back in the car we drive up into the campground. I have never seen it so full! We make a circuit looking for her SUV. She is not in any of the camp sites either, but maybe I just missed her. We drive around again. There are a couple of empty sites, none with level ground, and a few with only one day available. Hope nothing has happened to her.
Energy ebbing, as is normal these days after doing practically nothing, and thinking she must have had car trouble or something else happen I sign in and pay for one night and text her number. While waiting for an answer I pull out my chair, the sun oven to heat up some lunch, and get the Chiweenie Brothers staked out. No sense fiddling with the new camping items just for one night. No tent either (YEAH!!) as we will be sleeping in the car. Just a couple of adjustments to the mattress after my mad dash to Cali last spring to say goodbye to my sis and my sleeping set up is a cloud to sleep on.
I hear from Slyvia after texting to ask where she is and she wants to know who is texting her! WHAT??? She doesn’t recognize the phone number? I tell her who I am. She says she doesn’t have my new number and has been using the old number. I remind her that I gave her the new number and it’s in a previous text, just look up at our old messages from a couple days ago.
She now tells me that she drove to Williams. She wants me to drive to Williams. I have already paid for my site for one night and tell her no. Long story short, I suggest she meet me back here at White Spar in the morning if she doesn’t want to stay in Williams and we will go from here. She arrives bright and early and I am shocked at how frail she looks. She is pretty much shuffling, too, and that is concerning, but she wants to camp. I keep my concerns to myself.
Mingus Mountain is where we will meet and perhaps find a boondocking site as I know of several people who spend their summers there. High elevation, cooler air, lots of pine trees. My Camping Buddy wants me to lead the way. I punch the name into my GPS and off we go. I have my GPS set for best route and it takes us through some beautiful old homes on the outskirts of Prescott. Nice not to deal with a lot of traffic, but I come to a yellow light. Too close to slam on the brakes for fear of throwing the dogs into the front seat I buzz through the yellow and lose Sylvia in the process. She is behind a couple of cars and she hasn’t moved over into the left lane. I slow down as much as I dare, but she doesn’t see my left turn signal or can’t see it. I stay to the left on 89A (alternate) per GPS instructions. The Boys and I wait in the first spot big enough to pull over and park, but still no Sylvia. Onward. She is getting water is the next text. We talked about this, but guess she doesn’t trust me to find a store with water. 😉
A quick stop at Watson Lake overlook to take a couple of photos and let the dogs out for a leg raising, hoping she will catch up. Still no camp mate.
I find another spot past a roundabout and pull off, texting her to stay on 89A and take the second exit within the roundabout in order to stay on 89A.We are just past the roundabout. She texts that she is on Such-and-Such Road. It wasn’t 89A. I can wait no longer parked in the sun, and I text her that the roundabout I described and 89A (alternate) is the best I can do for directions, and I will meet her on Mingus Mountain. I don’t worry because I know she has been to Jerome so should be able to find it.
Somehow she pulls up just minutes from my arrival at the summit! I knew she could find it. The road to the boondocking sites is covered in the same fine dust as the road that went into Wolf Creek. People are camped everywhere it seems and who can blame them. Even home bodies need new scenery at times!! I explain my reluctance about those powdery dusty roads and it sifting into my back hatch and she mentions Cottonwood. Cottonwood is located down in the desert and I know there is no shade from what other people who have camped there have said, but she thinks it’s the only place we can get information so–OKAY! Head to Cottonwood!
The road down into the valley is another one of those two-lane, side-winder type roads of steep descent. I put the Honda in 2nd gear and crawl down the tarmac behind my Camp Buddy along with dozens of other vehicles of all types (I can smell the heated brakes of a pickup hauling a large travel trailer) the 12 miles or so it is to Jerome—can’t wait to see this town on the way back—and then on down into the little spot in the road, the name escapes me, between Jerome and Cottonwood.
Sylvia gets her info from the gas station where she pulls in and treats herself to an ice cream sandwich. I assure her I do not want one. With tongue in cheek I ask about shade in the Verde Valley of which there is none. I know this because I know people who have camped there and it’s okay for the winter months, but desert is desert. I think she just had boondocking on her mind and not as cold at night, but I can’t do without shade. After a brief rest, we head back up to Jerome and although the town is packed with the hoards needing to get out of their homes just as we want to do, we find a few places here and there to park to grab some photos. This little berg is literally perched on the hillside and Old Town Jerome would be a wonderful place to spend time some day. No Old Town photos, but did get a couple of the old copper pit and another section of the lower part.
Once back on top of Mingus Mountain we are fortunate to get sites at the Potato Patch Campground. Paying for two nights we settle into our respective spots. I have purchased a couple of new camping items and am eager to try them out. The dogs run line is put up and they are leashed to it, and I set out to put up the pop-up (sets up in 60 seconds!!) screen room. About ten minutes into it I am muttering to myself and spewing out a few expletives. Sixty seconds my ***** is just one of them. It doesn’t help that the instruction tag attached to this thing isn’t in English, but I do eventually look closer at the pictures. Oh. I have the dang thing upside down. Well shoot. Now to get it turned over (it is 10′ by 15′) without ruining the screening. I am here to tell you it CAN be done, but wasn’t easy. LOL. I then struggle with trying to figure out how the legs extend, but it is just a bit easier than figuring out it was upside down. I am too tired to be doing this, but I carry on. Eventually it is up, a bit dirty, but still intact and I get it over the cement table.
The new hammock has to be a lot easier than the screen room to put up, but I am whacked. My energy these days doesn’t last long, and as much as I am looking forward to a long lounge in that hammock it is going to have to wait until either later this evening or tomorrow. The dogs still need a walk. It is a short one, but it’s all I can do. We pass this relic and grab a shot of the old-time version of a camp table according to our government. How cool is this? I am thrilled something like this has survived.
Back at camp and not having proper extended walks for most of the summer due to excessive heat, I forgot how much energy the Chiweenie Brothers have pent up in those poor little bodies. While they do really really well with the bicycles cruising by and haven’t even barked at the little kids with their scooters whizzing by on the downhill road going by the campsite, The Boys go berserk when someone walks by with their dog; and there are a lot of dogs in the campground. I get beyond frustrated with them.
It is not only annoying, but disturbs the peacefulness and the relaxation I am looking for as I am sure the rest of those in the campground are also looking for. I do the best I can with keeping them quiet, but add in those who don’t have dogs, or don’t know dogs and walk up to them with their hands out toward them wanting to say hi . . . They mean well, but haven’t a clue. The Chiweenie Brothers are the best watch dogs ever, but like many they do not want to be reached for or touched by a stranger and especially not on their territory. This spot is their home and they act accordingly. I hate to do it, but out of frustration put their muzzles on. All three of us hate it! Much of the trip was already history before I resorted to this so they weren’t in them very long.
A group heads out for a hike
After the first night…Which is cool, but not as blessedly cool as White Spar had been…my Camp Buddy says she fell over the guy line on her tent and tells me she may have broken a bone alongside or under, I can’t remember which, her humerus but shows me her knee. She is nauseous, too, and asks if I will help her take down her camp. Of course, but I mention that I wish she had asked me earlier. She gives me an odd little smile. It’s later in the afternoon, but I begin taking down her tent which solidifies my reason for not using a tent of my own (UGH!! Hate ’em!!)), and after removing the contents which includes a box of books, two large tables and several side tables along with her bed which she will sleep on outside tonight, and various other things, she tells me where to put things in her vehicle; at least those that can go in now. Some have to wait until morning. And then the undelivered texts come through! Jeez. Ah, well, it is what it is.
In the morning there’s the rest of her stuff to pack. Another table, very heavy and the other folding tables that couldn’t be put in her vehicle yesterday, her bedding, many blankets, water, shovel, rake, ect. I finish getting her packed up and she is eventually ready to head out claiming she is okay as long as she is seated, and she heads for Phoenix.
I need to finish packing up my own camp and thankfully it doesn’t take long; there isn’t much as I took down the screen room and packed the camp stove, kitchen stuff, and food after packing most of Sylvia’s camp yesterday. That done, I heave a sigh of relief, get the dogs loaded, then plug Yarnell into my GPS heading out to 89A and then along a different route that branches off, seeing some new country.
New boondocking sites are noted along this road (Williamson) along with some granite dells, and just before dropping down into Skull Valley I spot smoke laying over the valley! OH NO!! Not another fire!!! As with California, Oregon, and Washington Arizona has had many wildfires this year. Human caused.
We gas up just north of Congress. I contemplate spending a night off Ghost Town Road in Congress, but it is too warm down here. I have stayed there before in years past and was fortunate to find a shade tree, but that can’t be guaranteed and I am too tired to deal so on we go. We head on through the desert taking Hwy 71 to 60 then catching I-10 and arrive home a bit before noon.
It’s very warm, supposedly the last day of the high 90s, and the casita needs cooling down, but the first order of business is getting The Boys into the back yard, then getting the cooler going. Energy expended from a nice-but-not-as-relaxing-as-expected camping trip deems unloading the car will have to wait.
I lie on my comfy bed under the cooler, the boys running in and out of the back door of our one room oasis checking their backyard for intruders. It feels good to be horizonal, the cool air flowing over me and getting my room down to a decent temperature. Before falling asleep I think about the next trip the Chiweenie Brothers and I will take. It is so much fun to plan, and there are lots of places in Arizona to explore now that the weather will cooling off soon and before the next wave of Covid potentially keeps us in lockdown again.
My last thought before drifting off for an hour’s nap is that surely November will bring the temps down into the 80s. The first week of October continued to break records with highs in the triple digits, and since then high to mid-90s has ruled. The weatherman tells us we are heading into lower temps and should get some wonderful relief next week, but I am not counting my chickens. Playing it by ear. Keeping from hoping too hard. This is, after all, the year 2020!
CURRENT and PREVIOUS READS: The Institute, Stephen King, The Outsider, Stephen King, Room 15, Charles Harris.
Potato Patch Campground. Forest Service. Electric sites in the first loop closest to the camp host is $18 per night, regular sites in lower loop, $14 per night half price with senior passes. Vault toilets, water, tables, firepits. Hiking trails of various lengths.
I met Ken when I sent out a plea for some mechanical advice on one of my Facebook RV Travel groups. Ken responded and graciously offered to come look, agreeing to meet me at the dog park. This was back in early February before COVID-19 disrupted life.
While he perused my problem we had a nice chat enjoying what passes for winter in the desert southwest; blue sky and warm sunshine on this day. He mentioned having lived in Florida which promptly made me think of the Kennedy Space Center, and I asked if he had ever seen the space shuttle launch. He told me he had seen almost all of them including the Challenger disaster back in 1984. Wow! I needed to know that story. I asked if I could interview him and he agreed.
Ken grew up in the eastern portion of Washington State, went to college there becoming a Communication Electronics Technician then joined the Navy in 1968 as Seaman Apprentice instead of Seaman Recruit due to his college education.
Once out of the Navy he took a bit of time off before going to work for the local Ford dealership working his way from his entry level job washing cars to doing warranty work. His boss offered to send him to mechanic school but instead choose to move with his new wife to Florida where her father lived. Packing everything they could stuff into their station wagon they drove cross country where they spent the next 20 years.
Ken worked as a television tech. It was at the back door of this business that he was able to step out and see every launch of the space shuttles and other rockets that were launched from the Kennedy Space Center, the former Cape Canaveral. He always knew when a launch was imminent as the TVs in the shop had every channel showing the launches, and it was always break time when the launches occurred *smile*.
On January 28, 1986 Ken told me he watched in awe, as he did with every launch, as Challenger rose into the sky. Awe changed to horror as the space shuttle, 73 seconds after liftoff and carrying seven including the first American female astronaut and the first black astronaut, broke apart right before his eyes. An O-ring associated with the right solid rocket booster failed causing the shuttle to break apart. He bows his head for a few seconds, but just before he does I see the sadness in his eyes. I remember that day and exactly where I was. Do you?
After his wife passed in 1994, Ken spent two more years in Florida then moved to Mississippi where an old buddy of his lived and he procured a job working for ServiceMaster. He tells me he likes the southern states and warm weather and decided that northern Mississippi would become his home.
Ken’s first home on wheels was a pop-up tent trailer. He had found this unit in 2008 and had been using it on weekends and holidays. It was selling for a price he wanted to pay, but it had a downside. He was in Mississippi and the pop-up was in Illinois. He wanted it bad enough that he took a 24 hour non-stop round trip to go pick it up, leaving early on a Saturday and was home on Sunday. Whew! Bet he loved hearing that alarm on Monday morning.
After a time, as many folks do, he felt he needed more room , and in 2010 he made the decision to move up, and he went from the pop-up to a 33′ motor home. He retired in 2012 and began to travel.
To fill in some time Ken tried camp hosting at a county park in Oregon. This is where you sign on for a specified amount of time to be the campground host signing people into the campground, cleaning restrooms, and other various and sundry jobs in return for your camping spot, hopefully with electric and water included.
The following year Ken decided to try the seasonal work that Amazon and the big chain stores like JC Penny offer during the holiday season from October through December, securing those gigs from a group called Camperforce (Amazon’s word for seasonal camping workers) and Workcamping (The word JC PENNEY uses to describe same). These big companies used to pay all camping fees in a nearby campground wherever they happen to be needing warehouse or other jobs filled and also paid a good hourly wage. Sometimes the job is extended to include the after Christmas return-it-I-don’t-like-it rush. He enjoys these jobs more than hosting and continues to seek these holiday working gigs even though the all-paid perks are disappearing.
By 2016 he decided to do more off-roading and sold the motor home and purchased a 33′ fifth wheel, the fiver being more amendable to rough roads in outlying areas.
When the seasonal work is finished Ken heads from wherever he happens to be to someplace warm (This year it was Quartzsite) for the rest of the winter and early spring before heading back home to Mississippi for the summer and fall.
Ken has been to 29 of the 50 states: All of the west, Midwest, and the south, the southern states being his favorites as he is not a fan of the cold.
While traveling he keeps busy looking to take in anything military and never passes up a museum. He also enjoys geocaching and has 1343 finds to his credit.
It was very nice meeting you Ken! Thanks for the mechanical info and telling me your story. Happy and safe travels!
People are often puzzled by this term. Mention a haboob to a non-Arizonian, and they give you a look like “say what?!? Our weatherman has a saying: “Pain before the rain”. It pretty much sums up the excessive heat and hot drying winds that sets us up for the start of monsoon season, Then there are the hopes and prayers Monsoon actually happens as it’s our major source of rainfall. On average we only get a whopping 6.4 inches for the entire year.
What exactly is a haboob?
An old interview with some new members of our football team gives some interesting insight. I imagine there is some form or another of this asked of each new player that joins the team, and those who don’t live in Arizona.
The newest Arizona Cardinals weigh in:
Playing football, or any sport for that matter, in Arizona comes with some uncommon factors that don’t typically come into play elsewhere in the country.
There’s an abundance of scorpions — just ask Tre Boston — rattlesnakes and the occasional haboob.
Arizona Cardinals center Evan Boehm took it upon himself to make sure the newest members of the team were properly informed as to what exactly a haboob is. For most of the players asked, a haboob is pretty much the closest thing to the world ending, and from the looks of it, there may be a need for a refresher course in the near future for a few of the players.
“It’s when it seems like the apocalypse is coming, but really it’s only rain and sand,” wide receiver Brice Butler said.
Rookie center Mason Cole reiterated the wideout’s words. “It looks like the world’s ending, but when you are in it, it’s kind of foggy, real windy, but besides that it looks like the world’s ending,” Cole said.
For offensive lineman Korey Cunningham, the term can’t be real. “You’re lying,” Cunningham said when asked what a haboob is. “Were they the things in the cafeteria?” After experiencing the weather events firsthand, the lineman still wasn’t sure what a haboob was until he started talking about the loud phone alerts he gets when a storm’s on the way. “I thought a hurricane was about to hit, but then I was like ‘we ain’t by no water,” Cunningham said. “So then I asked someone at the table and they said it was a haboob and I looked outside and I thought the world was about to end. With all the dust in the air and it starting to get dark outside it was kind of scaring me a little bit. But it’s just a dust storm that’s all it is.”
Out of all the players, offensive lineman Justin Pugh was the most knowledgeable and even used some cinematic inspiration to give his definition of the storms. “They’re like 70-mile long, five-mile high dust storms that come before the monsoons,” Pugh said. “I feel like I’m in that movie The Mummy when the face is coming out of [the dust storm].”
But whatever you do, don’t ask rookie wide receiver C.J. Duncan what a “Haboo” is. “I don’t know what that is,” Duncan said when asked. “Is it some kind of clothing?”
So, what is the actual definition of a haboob?
Seeing your first Arizona haboob can be a lifetime event. A haboob is a huge dust storm created from the airflow of a thunderstorm or intense shower. The winds driving the haboob can reach 50 miles per hour and blow dust up to 10,000 feet into the air.
The term “haboob” is from the Arabic language and means blown. A strong Arizona haboob can last for a few hours and travel over 100 miles. The winds moving a haboob can cause sever damage and power outages. Arizona haboobs occur during the summer monsoon season. Along with Arizona, haboobs occur in New Mexico and western Texas. Visibility is likely to be zero as the wall of dust overtakes vehicles. The haboob is the Southwest’s answer to the northern whiteout.
The greater Phoenix metro area is well known for haboobs. On July 5, 2011, one of the largest Arizona haboobs ever observed occurred. This Phoenix haboob rose over 5,000 feet high. A wall of dust covered the entire Phoenix area from Apache Junction to Goodyear.
What creates an Arizona haboob?
Summer monsoons bring strong winds and concentrated down pours. As the monsoon thunderstorms collapse, they can create high outflow winds. The outflow winds cause gust fronts to form. The gust front picks up massive amounts of dust and sand which move up into the atmosphere.
Phoenix has 1 to 3 Arizona haboobs every year. Haboobs are also prevalent in Casa Grande, AZ, about 40 miles south of Phoenix. See the Fox News video of the Phoenix Haboob. Be Patient, it takes a few seconds to load.
Thanks for stopping by 2DogsTravel. The Chiweenie Brothers and I are looking forward to, hopefully, doing a bit of traveling in the near future, but you know, with the way things are in Arizona and being the pariahs due to Covid …. no one wants us in their state! Perhaps a jaunt within Arizona once the crowds clear out of the higher elevations. We’ll see. It’s feeling pretty good sitting under the cooler that runs 24/7 even though it’s become a bit boring. Lots of reading time.
CURRENT READ: Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens (hard to put down!)
Just finished: The City by Dean Koontz. A decent read by this master of the horror/thriller/suspense novel, but not one of his best in my opinion.
Monsoon? In Arizona? Yes. By definition monsoon is a season, not a single storm. It is a large-scale weather pattern that involves a seasonal wind shift over a particular region and is usually accompanied by an increase in atmospheric moisture and precipitation. Our monsoon season here in Arizona started June 15th and runs through September 30th.
Arizona’s monsoon forms when the sun heats the Pacific Ocean and land at different rates. The land warms at a faster rate than the ocean creating a low-pressure zone. As the hot air rises, it forces winds to shift and fill the vacuum that is formed. All of these, in turn, enhance rainfall and thunderstorms.
Arizona’s monsoon is the northern extent of the North American Monsoon, which begins in early June in central and southern Mexico. The dry westerly winds that persist through fall, winter and spring shift to moist southerly winds, bringing thunderstorm activity into Arizona. Humidity levels increase which can lead to thunderstorms, heavy rain, lightning, hail, high winds, flash flooding, dust storms, extreme heat and sometimes tornadoes.
What is the rainiest month in the desert? July. On average rain falls for 4.2 days and typically aggregates up to 1.1″ of precipitation. Doesn’t sound like much does it? It isn’t, however, these rain storms fall fast and furious over ground that resists soaking up the water and instead it runs off into the lower lying areas—the washes and rivers—and this runoff causes the flash floods that are so common here in the Grand Canyon State. They are exceedingly dangerous and can hit without warning.
In 2017 a visiting family of ten was swept away and perished from a storm that dropped rain higher up in the mountains and a flash flood seemly appeared out of nowhere in the river bed where they were enjoying their getaway.
It is wise to be aware of gathering storm clouds and where you are at all times. Put a weather alert app on your phone and heed any warnings you receive. Do not drive into rivers running even a little higher than normal. You have no idea what is under that water. The road could be gone and you would never know it until it’s too late.
Not My Photo
If it’s posted to turn around do so. There were four people, three of them children, lost last year during one of September’s storms when they ignored signs to turn around and tried to cross a flooded river. Arizona’s advice: Turn Around Don’t Drown.
Last September’s furious storm and flash flood watch that we experienced here after our summer spent exploring New Mexico was a nice introduction to what we can expect as we spend a full summer here in 2020.
A nice thunderstorm would be welcome right about now. It’s been HOT. Our first triple digits arrived in late April. We’d have a week of that then a week of high 80s or 90s then more triple digits. Now that June is here the high temps are here to stay. Twenty out of the last 24 days have all been triple digits with several 110 and above. Yeah, a good thunderstorm to cool things off for a few days would be nice. We take what we get, but one can wish, right?
I hope you all are well and happy. Check in with a howdy and let me know how you’re doing. I worry about ya! Hugs, Shawna
CURRENT READ: The Price of Paradise by Susana Lopez Rubio Set in Havana, Cuba in the 50s. ****
May 2020 for the months of February to May. I am pretty sure somewhere along the line during the trip from AZ to CA and back to say goodbye to my sister I contracted Covid-19. I gassed up 10 different times and there were a lot of people, mostly from out-of-state by the amount of traffic heading south at the end of the day, in the Mammoth Lakes area for the skiing and getting fuel for the return trip. Or …
Perhaps my sister had it. When I received a copy of her death certificate she had listed what was not a surprise, COPD for “years”. The other three: Acute chronic respiratory failure, bilateral pulmonary emboli (blood clots in her lungs), and unspecified pneumonia, all listed as “days”. Hmmm. Just a thought that crossed my mind. I was at her side holding her hand, stroking her cheek or forehead, leaning over to talk to her for the majority of the ten days I was there. Anyway, I was sick for three weeks and it seemed like a hybrid of a cold and the flu. Grateful I had gotten back home before it really hit me.
Plans to use up the last months of my New Mexico State Parks pass didn’t come to fruition because of Covid-19 and The Chiweenie Brothers and I settled in on our little piece of Arizona. Once feeling better I got busy with installing snake fencing along the chain link fence on the north side. Shade cloth was put up along the east side of our cool cover, a cement block wall was put up between the casita and the laundry shed. It works as a chiweenie barrier to keep them in the back and unable to see anyone who happens to pass by, AND it’s snake proof. I planted some rescued cacti out in the front, and I also had to dig up most of the succulents I planted in the back last fall as the 112 degree heat (triple digits for two weeks beginning in late APRIL!!) was frying them. Thankfully the evaporative cooler works really well; as long as it’s below about 105 degrees. Then it is just okay, but certainly better than not having one!
Charlie Making Sure All the Food is Gone
Charlie is Tired
Fries Keeping Cool
Being an introvert and a homebody the stay-at-home order from Governor Ducey didn’t bother me a bit until I couldn’t get outside. Then I did get a little stir crazy. For a while it was even too hot/windy in the early mornings to even enjoy my coffee under the patio umbrella. Like the crazy weather a lot of you are having, it has been bouncing back and forth. Last week we got back down into the 90s, then two days of 80s, and now the temps will begin marching toward triple digits again.
Nothing prettier than cactus flowers
Thanks for stopping by 2DogsTravel. We’re mostly staying put for the summer so I can keep the new transplants watered, but hopefully we can take a couple of short trips. I will definitely be researching places to go for next year, and I may publish a few destinations we are thinking about. Next month I have an interesting person post to share. Hugs, Shawna
Lots of books were read over the months of winter and during the stay-at-home order.
Unspeakable Things by Jess Lourey. Fictional novel inspired by a true event. ****
In an Instatnt by Suzanne Redfearn. ***** five stars. Written from an interesting perspective, this book tells the story of a horrific accident and its aftermath; how each person’s character is revealed as they make life altering decisions during their struggle for survival.
Thief River Falls by Brian Freeman. I thought this book was just okay (THIS wouldn’t happen! I kept saying to myself. How stupid) because of an implausible story line until there very end when the story line is explained. *****
The Other Wife. Another ***** five star read. Well written with lots of surprises.
The Devil’s Work by Mark Edwards. **** Well written thriller that bounces back and forth between 1999 and 2015 with, of course, a surprise ending. Only four star simply because, I think, it wasn’t quite as good as the others I have read so far this year.
The Stillwater Girls by Minka Kent, ****. Full of surprises and a happy ending.
Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn (author of Gone Girl, A MUST READ!). A who-done-it murder mystery about a dysfunctional family with a surprise ending. Four stars.
Rain Will Come by Thomas Holgate, ****. Fast-paced thriller abiut a serial killer, but with a twist. Not for the squeamish although it isn’t TOO bad.
Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rowls. Re-read this classic which I both love and hate.
Twisted Twenty-Six by Janet Evanovich. Another light-hearted Stephanie Plum read. Grandma Mazur marries into the mob!
When We Believed in Mermaids by Barbara O’Neal, ****. Nice coming-of-age story. A nice, but hard to believe, love story. A nice read about forgiveness.
And last-but-not-least Girl Next Door by Willow Rose. *** three stars. I found this one just okay. When the author named a male cat Misty I was instantly put off. The story line about a serial killer and woman who leaves an abusive relationship ending up in the same town with her high school sweetheart who is a detective that speaks like a woman would speak put me off. Then the cat is miraculously described as a female cat toward the end. Who edited this???
Hello Friends! With the COVID-19 lurking around and people being asked to self isolate I thought this would be a good time to get caught up on 2DogsTravel.
Since finding this bugger in my little home this past fall and having it removed by a couple of our wonderful fire department personnel (THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!) things pretty much went down hill.
Thanksgiving and Christmas were uneventfull except for the morning lows in the mid-20s for a week between Christmas and New Years. Another reason to be thankful that I have a warm(er) place to hunker down in the Arizona Winter.
Welcoming in 2020 we were delighted with this fabulous sunset
Sunset, New Year’s Day 2020
Gotta love Arizona sunsets.
Late January brought news that my SIL, Karen, had been hospitalized diagnosed with myeloma. That on top of diabetes and Parkinson’s. To her credit she had agreed to the bone marrow testing; she is not one who can handle much pain so this really surprised me. She had lived with her sister in Oregon for the past two years since my brother passed, and Sharon was her primary care giver. I will be eternally grateful for this.
To make a long agonizing story shorter, she was finally sent home. Weak, discouraged, and with the knowledge that she would be taking chemo for the rest of whatever her life span would be, Karen decided that the treatments, constant doctor’s appointments, and continual tests were too much. She decided to let nature take its course and requested that all her meds to be withheld including her diabetes medications. That, of course, put her into a diabetic coma and in less than two days she was released from her torment and went home to be with her Lord.
Ten days later I got a call from my niece that it was time to come say goodbye to my sister. Edie had been in rehab, again, to try and get her up and walking after yet another hospitalization in December. She came down with pneumonia on top of her CHF, years with COPD, and several bouts with sepsis. She continued to decline in hospital and come to the point of not being able to swallow amongst other various ailments. The doctors said she would never make it out of hospital and she didn’t.
I made the fastest trip ever to California (Hey, I could still be a truck driver if I wanted to . . . at least for a couple of days!).
One of us was with her 24/7 until she took her last breath at 9:30 a.m. February 27th. I stayed for a couple more days to help as I could and to visit with my sons before making a mad dash for Arizona before an incoming storm arrived.
The Chiweenie Brothers and I didn’t quite make it ahead of the storm and it was a snowy drive higher up on Hwy 44 near Lassen Park, but we came out the other side just fine and didn’t hit snow again until near Mammoth Lakes on Hwy 395 where the worst of this section of the highway was starting, but it wasn’t too bad.
Some shots taken with my phone on the trip back.
The halfway point in our trip is right about Lone Pine, CA Where we spent a very brutal, cold night in the Alabama Hills. The wind coming off Mt. Whitney and surrounding Sierra Nevada made it feel like my hands were going to fall off and permanent grimace left on my face when we got parked for the night and The Boys needed their evening potty walk. I was so glad to have dug through a couple of my storage bins while in Redding and had brought my sleeping bag back with me.
A cold-but-windless morning presented a beautiful dawn creeping over the horizon.
And this interesting little dinosaur, eh?
A stop at McD’s for coffee and The Chiweenie Brothers and I head for the barn. I was feeling a bit off, but was determined to get back to our little desert hideaway.
Back in Arizona The Boys relax after racing around their tiny back yard trying to get some of that pent up energy burned off.
I am totally exhausted and don’t even bother with unpacking the car.
Thank you for stopping by 2DogsTravel. Hugs, Shawna