Home on the range

When you are addicted to the internet, going camping in the mountains can be frustrating. This campground, for instance, is in a ‘dead zone’ — no signal, web or cell. One must learn to be self sufficient.

I had forgotten all that when I wrote a blog post last week, planning to publish it next time I went to town. When I got there, I discovered that my precious words hadn’t been saved because I was using SimpleNote, a great little writing app — but it is based in the cloud. You need to be online to save what you write.

What’s that you say? Why not just use pen and paper?

Hahahahahaha!

Yeah, that’s not going to happen, not as long as I have my laptops (yes, two of them), my iPhone, and my Kindle… and, of course, my solar panel that is now hooked up and working at last. One can only rough it so much.

Take this campground, for instance. I have been paying $13/night (senior-discounted half off the normal $26 fee) since I got here last Wednesday because the few free spots in these mountains, marked with yellow posts, were all either taken or too remote for my taste. (I like my internet. And if the van gets stuck or I fall and get hurt, I want a cell signal so I can call for help.)

For my money, I get to enjoy a paved road and parking spot, running water, vault toilets and outhouses, fire rings, and a picnic table. If I want, I can buy pre-cut fire wood for my camp fire. The camp hosts, my friends Linda and Silvianne, keep everything clean and make sure the other campers don’t make too much late-night noise. Trucks come every Monday to clean the outhouses and remove the trash. Even bugs are at a minimum.

It’s frighteningly close to the sanitized, Disney-fied version of nature that Edward Abbey warned of in his seminal memoir, “Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness”.

Now here comes another clown with a scheme for the utopian national park: Central Park National Park, Disneyland National Park. Look here, he says, what’s the matter with you fellows?— let’s get cracking with this dump. Your road is bad; pave it. Better yet, build a paved road to every corner of the park; better yet, pave the whole damned place so any damn fool can drive anything anywhere—is this a democracy or ain’t it? Next, charge a good stiff admission fee; you can’t let people in free; that leads to socialism and regimentation. Next, get rid of all these homely rangers in their Smokey the Bear suits. Hire a crew of pretty girls, call them rangerettes, let them sell the tickets and campfire talks. And advertise, for godsake, advertise! How do you expect to get people in here if you don’t advertise?

I could get used to these luxuries. But even with my bargain-basement senior discount, the bank balance is running low. We don’t want a repeat of last month.

I need to find a yellow post spot where I can stay for a couple of weeks — longer, if the forest rangers aren’t strict about enforcement of the 14-day limit in national forests. After that, I need to find a place on BLM (Bureau of Land Management) land. There are limits there too but I’m hoping to stretch these temporary stays out for most of the summer.

At every RTR (Rubber Tramp Rendezvous), our vandwelling guru, Bob Wells, gives a lecture on how to find free camping spots. I listen attentively and think it’s a piece of cake but now that I am on my own, I don’t feel so confident. Bob recommends specific map books that I have failed to obtain. I am at the mercy of the rangers’ badly Xeroxed, tiny maps.

Plus, I lost my reading glasses. Again.

But I have my trusty friend, Linda, to help with the search. It’s Monday, her day off, and most of the weekend campers have gone back to their jobs in the city. There should be an open yellow post spot. We are going to find me a free campsite come hell or high water — neither of which is likely in this location. (Well, if you don’t count the rangers’ low-rated risk of a forest fire. That would be hell, for sure.)

We head out soon. Stay tuned.

*Time passes*

OMG! We found the perfect mountaintop site — and I can’t believe my luck — the tent we saw here the last two times we drove by is gone, meaning anyone can stake a claim! Not only that, there is a signal! Not the fastest, but good enough to check email and Facebook, SLOWLY publish this blog post (but not photos, sadly), and make phone calls!

God bless the geeks and nerds who make all this lovely technology possible.

I am a happy camper. Literally.