Gibber-gabber
Day 1 & 2 (Friends, family, & head clearing in 30 days or less): 3:10 to Yuma
beingzoe 2009-06-12 19:02:13 UTC

This is the first of many musings for this journey, affectionately dubbed (by necessity for my registration with CouchSurfing.org), “Friends, family, & head clearing in 30 days or less.” Many updates to my trip will be posted to various social networks throughout each day but every so often I will be posting these longer updates. I write this first installment from a dump of motel in Las Cruces, NM. As I am a day behind and in a hurry to get to White Sands this first update will be brief. You can follow the sporadic updates on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, Tumblr, BlogSpot, Bebo, Friendster, and other random socialized networks (need Jason to help get a custom URL setup so I can use ping.fm with CoTradeCo). I am beingzoe on all networks.

Key stops planned for my trip:

• Santa Fe, NM to visit with Smick and Ily
• Omaha, NE to visit with K
• Dubuque, IA to visit with Dad and Step-mom

Planned in-between stops:

• Mountain biking anywhere the opportunity strikes
• White Sands, NM
• LIberal, KS (location in my novel I may never finish)
• Newton, KS (location in my novel)
• Lucas, KS Grassroots Arts Center (location in my novel)

DAY 1 & 2

3:10 to Yuma

Left with much haste considering this is a vacation, albiet a working vacation. Though I had been “planning” the trip since my visit with Alan in San Francisco n April, I had not actually done any planning as it was unclear when I would realistically be able to get away from the theater long enough. Then the first week of June it became clear that if I didn’t simply decide to go it wasn’t going to happen. So in a flurry of activity on Tuesday I prepared myself to leave for a month long journey.

I left Wednesday morning heading out the 8, which turns into the 10, listening to the Dirty Three all the way through. The Dirty Three were perfect for the first leg of the journey. Brian had made me a disc with new music just before I left after whimsically complaining that since Alan had left I no longer learned about new music.

I basically drove straight through to Yuma where I was lulled in from the scene of a small river/creek below the freeway. I pulled off and explored a native museum for a bit (which was closed, but I enjoy abandonded buildings as much as thriving ones). Then headed down to the river to cool off walking in the shallow river. Pretty neat little spot actually. A few miles of trails along the river, public “beaches” for the locals to relax on a hot day. It looked like the river got deep enough in spots to almost swim. I bough a couple of cups of lemonade from a young man, maybe six years old, who had his operation setup with his mom near the water.

After the beach I decided I neede a bike rack. Though I don’t have that much stuff in my car, it isn’t easy to get my bike in and out normally. So I asked Google maps to find me a bike shop, thinking I could pick up a cheap bike rack and get directions to some good trails. Mr. B’s bike shop in Yuma didn’t have any cheap racks. I’m looking to eventually get a hitch style rack, so for now I just wanted a $40 trunk style which they didn’t have. Though I did get directions to some supposedly nice single track just North of town. Following the directions I found a Target and picked up a rack that awkwardly holds my odd shaped Specialized frame. Like a true nomad I repacked my entire car in the parking lot and headed on to the trail. Except the directions didn’t quite work and I ended up near Yuma Lakes where it looked like it was BLM land at least. I parked and rolled out, quite easily with new rack. Within minutes I came across a young boy at a make shift wooden table, dirty, shirtless and cutting up what looked like a rabbit. I asked him if this was public land and he responded wide eyed like he didn’t see folks very often, “Yeah, down here and over that way, but not over there.” I thanked him and headed on. I didn’t get much of a ride in though. Instead of exciting single track it was nothing but loose gravel fire roads most likely for hunters. After a maybe a mile of miserable riding I headed back to the car thinking I’d spent too long in Yuma.

Back on the 10 with tentative plans to camp somewhere between Tuscon and the border of Arizona and New Mexico I had apparently played through the entire discography of the Dirty Three, on came some more rock/punk/gypsy something that I will probably enjoy but not after hours of the lulling rock ambient Dirty Three. I restarted the Dirty Three and pondered my next move.

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m not exactly a camper. I am an urban type who enjoys warm showers and espresso every morning. However, this trip is intended as a big routine breaker, a chance to branch out and prepare for a new phase in my life. To that end I came prepared with camping gear I borrowed from my sister, and fully intended to use it. Though for this first leg of my journey I had hoped to try out the CouchSurfing.org service. On Tuesday night I had sent out to CouchSurfing requests in Vail, AZ and Wilcox, AZ both putting me not too far from the New Mexico border and only a few hours from White Sands where I hoped to spend the next day before meeting up with Smick and Ily in Santa Fe.

Because of the short notice and the fact that even driving straight through (which I never do) I wouldn’t make Tuscon until later evening, I mentioned in my requests that I might camp near my CouchSurfing contacts and even just meeting for a conversation and some coffee as well as a chance to washup the following day would be nice.

However, as I made my way across Arizona I became a bit depressed that my CouchSurfing requests found no response. That is my fault for waiting until the last minute I am sure. Considering my situation I should have contacted people in Tuscon as well just to be sure, but this was my first time using CouchSurfing and wasn’t sure the protocols. In retrospect I really wish I had.

Somewhere past Tuscon I needed a break just to stand up and maybe grab some warm food. I had eaten only 1 1/2 PBJ’s that I had made that morning. Actually I had made about 10 PBJ’s thinking I could doubly hand out sandwiches to weary travelers or people down on their luck I might come across as part of the “Give A Sandwich” movement. Much later into the next day I would be glad I didn’t find anyone to hand them out to.

I stopped at a TA travel center and had a cheeseburger and salad. My server Della was a wonderful older lady who made me feel right at home, calling me Hon a lot. When I hemmed over whether to get a salad or fries she offered both, saying she was in charge right now. I ended up staying there for a while trying to login to CouchSurfing.org and/or find a campground online, but unfortunately I had to use my Storm since the TA only offers paid wifi. The CouchSurfing.org site was unusable due to limited javascript functionality (note to ask CS to look into some unobtrusive JS). I found a great website that lists many free camping areas, or at least I think it is great, as you can only search the database by latitude and longitude. This led to discovering other ridiculous limitations of the Storm and Google maps. I could find no way to simply look up my current coordinates. So the ideal campsite may have slipped through my tired fingers. In the end I decided to go old school and use the “Free Campgrounds” book my sister lent me. I mainly refrained from using it originally because it was published in 2002 and I wasn’t sure how accurate it would be.

I located a spot in Bowie, AZ which just felt right and headed back out on the road. Arriving in Bowie though, my fears of outdated information proved real. The Texaco I was to find for the first turn didn’t seem to exist and the town was long shut down for the night. I made one more pass down the main street just to be sure, and sure enough found an abandoned service station what looked like it may have once been a Texaco sometime in the 50’s. I am not sure which is more sad, the fact that I recognized the shape of the painted over sign as a Texaco or that I actually turned up the road unsure if this was even the right place. I attempted to follow the directions, but where I should have found a simple graded dirt county road I found houses and many graded dirt roads, none of which had any signs. I made my most intelligent guess using intuition and Google maps as my guide. From what I could see on Google maps the route being described to the free campsite was obfuscated by what must have been newer development and roads. That or the directions were just terrible. At any rate, after driving for a bit on what seemed like might be the right way, getting stuck in a mini cattle herd, and ultimately hittng a dead end, I stopped to evaluate my situation.

By now it was getting pretty late, but my spirits were still high. I was truly on an adventure now. Instead of just finding a pay campground (much discussion later on how absurd it is that is illegal to camp any old place in a place with as much open land as New Mexico or anywhere else for that matter) I decided to find the next logical stop in the book for a free campsite. I was determined to break my routine. I decided on Lordsburg, NM and moved on.

Arriving in Lordsburg and checking with Google maps I could actually see my route to the campsite on the map. I felt good. It was really late now, getting close to 4am but I felt alive, tired, but alive. The only part that concerned me was that the campsite was more than 20 miles N of Lordsburg and it was unclear the state of the roads. I could already see the next day hinting over the horizon and really wanted to be setup before daylight so I could get enough sleep before the heat of the day.

Heading out of town the road was fine and I made decent speed the first 16 miles of country roads. Then came the last two turns. First onto CRAO27. This was a classic graded dirt road with serious rutting from the weather which cut my speed in half. This went on for nearly 5 miles. Somewhere along here I lost data connection and had to follow the directions blindly. As I neared the next turn at the “storage tank” onto CRAO124 the road became practically one lane and hardly a road at all for the first mile or so. Then it became much worse.

I now found myself on what seemed like little more than a car wide stone and sand/gravel path, pushing my poor Saturn Ion’s suspension to the limit. There were brief spots, where it became smoother more firmly packed dirt again that I used to convince myself that this wasn’t crazy. But honestly at this point I was so excited about setting up a tent and watching the last of the stars before dawn, drinking the Smirnoff Ice I had purchased at my last gas stop, and then enjoying some coffee and a bike ride in the morning, that my judgment was probably a little off.

Despite the occasional reprieve in the ridiculous road conditions, overall the state of the road continued to decline as anything you would even call a road. Getting windier, hillier, and criss-crossing deeply rutted and sandy washes I began to seriously consider how wise this was. I asked myself if despite camping legality if I should just find a flat spot to park and setup camp. I did find a spot and was about to setup but I when I got up I realized there was a herd of cattle right there hiding in the darkness, so decided to move on. Continuing at my snails pace over the ever enlarging rocks and poor traction I only had another couple of miles to go to the “official” camp site, but I was seriously wondering if I was going to make it.

Then I came around a sharp bend which then begain a sharp switchbacking descent between two hills, winding like a helix in opposite directions back and forth across a deep wash. The rocks became looser, and the traction worse and worse. By now I was repeated scraping bottom over and over on mounds of earth and the occasional small boulder. I knew I needed to turn around, but now that was impossible I determined that I would turn around and refigure my plans at the next opportunity.

As I neared the bottom of the valley I saw my opportunity, and none too soon, the sand on the last 20 yards or so had left my car with “no taction warnings” as I slid helplessly in the sand, but at the bottom there was my chance, a fairly wide open spot on what looked like decently packed stone in the wash next to where the road headed sharply back up the other side. I came to a stop. The ground was mostly solid. So far so good. But I was going to have to do a three point turn as quick as possible through that insanely thick sand. I got out plotted my course of action, got back in, breathed heavily and gunned it. I managed to get mostly turned around on the first move. Now all that remained was another 90 degrees as I pulled forward and headed as fast I could into the same 20 yards of loose sand.

I took another deep breath and hit it. Vrroooom, KRKKGGGKKK. I was stopped with a loud dragging scraping noise. I hadn’t moved two feet. I slowly attempted to back up hoping to not dig myself into the sand. Nothing. Forward. Nothing. What the $%*&?

I got out and couldn’t see anything. My good flashlight (the Pelican 7060) was back with a friend I had lent it to who had failed to return it to me before I left (I hope he see’s this and feels guilty ;)

Luckily I came prepared with various CoTradeCo products to demo if the chance arose. I got the 9430 out of the trunk, necessitating removing my bike. However with the Pelican 9430 (shameless plug: which can be found on my website at http://cotradeco.com/products/648-9430-remote-area-lighting) it was like daylight and it was painfully clear that my car was teeter-tottering on large boulder long buried in the sand with just an iceberg tip sticking out far enough to grab my car and laugh at me.

I did attempt to free myself to no avail and will be posting an entire separate post about how I saved myself after I arrive in Santa Fe. For now suffice it to say after a broken jack and an 11 mile bike ride back to cell phone coverage I did manage to escape Lordsburg around 1pm the next day.

By the time I was free I was so exhausted all I could think about was sleep. But I was so frustrated with Lordsburg I was determined to head farther down the road and find a motel to stay in. While not outrageously hot, something with air conditioning seemed necessary and a campground just wasn’t going to cut it. In the end I manged to make it as far as Las Cruces, putting me about an hour from White Sands. I considered posting to let everyone know I was alright, but I was so tired and poopy I just went straight to sleep.

I took a five or six hour nap, then woke up, biked around Las Cruces for a bit, got a sandwich and headed back to my room where I took a shower, channel surfed all 12 stations, drank my Smirnoff Ice, ate half my sandwich, and smoke lot’s of cigarettes in my underwear feeling a bit like Tom Waits in that song, “Going out West”:

Well I kno karate, voodoo too
Im gonna make myself available to you
I dont need no make up
I got real scars
I got hair on my chest
I look good without a shirt

Though I really just felt like a bloated slightly overweight dork.

Morning came, I showered again, just cause it seemed refreshing, and prudent considering the adventures I had so far. I walked down to the lobby for my requisite continental breakfast which consisted exclusively of coffee (with caffeine only thank you very much), chocolate chip cookies, and some kind of breakfast bar/cake like thing obviously baked by someone who worked there. As I fingered the cellophane wrapped breakfast cakes wondering if should, a large man, obviously part of the Coachlight Inn indigident population, bellowed out, “Those are good. One of those and you are set. You’ll love it.” Perhaps he was reading my mind, or he was more savvy than he appeared, and interpretted my poking at the stack of irregularly sized “bars” correctly. I replied, “What kind are they?” He responded less confidently, “Oh, carrot, and, uh, cocunut…well all sorts of good stuff.” Just then the matronly clerk who had checked me in the night before, poked her head out and said, “Those are breakfast bars. Oatmeal.” I said my thanks, grabbed a large one and headed back to my room with coffee and possibly breakfast.

I started this post, but quickly had to leave when I received a phone call asking if I was staying another night.

“I thought checkout was at 11.”
“It is. It’s about 5 after.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t realized I was in another time zone.”
“Oh that’s right, you are from California. Yup, you are definitely in another time zone. I’m originally from Minneapolis and I had to go through different time zones too.”
“Well I apologize for the inconvenience. I will be out in about 15 minutes.”
“Take your time.”

So I packed up and headed out to the closest Starbucks for my usual espresso, where I am finishing this post.

Heading to White Sands now, and then on to Santa Fe. My public apologies to Colleen and Nathan for not letting you know I was alive. I forgot that though you could see where I was on Google maps, it doesn’t tell you if I’ve been murdered and drug off somewhere. I will be more aware next time. I was just so tired.

Okay, you can get the rest of the updates throughout the day via the social networks. Take and find your day well. I sure will.

Read the amazing perilous and astoundingly hilarious next installment of my journey, Day 1.5 (Friends, family, & head clearing in 30 days or less): Stuck on a rock