My Bucket List is Getting Shorter

My Grand Canyon bucket-list experience did not disappoint. Last week we rode the Grand Canyon Railway from Williams, Arizona to the Grand Canyon, accompanied by Cray's longtime friend, Susie, and her wife, Mischa. In a fortunate stroke of serendipity, my Iowa friend, Corey, and his traveling buddy, Robert, were on the same train. There was a staged shootout and the cowboys selected Robert to be in their show. I'm certain they chose him because he was wearing shorts and carrying a backpack, which the cowboys referred to as his underwear and purse. Robert was such a good sport!

 Corey and Robert are traveling the southwest and     dreaming about moving here.

We booked a luxury train trip and traveled like rail baronesses in a plush parlor car complete with a private bar, entertainment, snacks and an observation dome. We were able to step out onto the rear platform and see the tracks disappearing behind us. 

Outlaw cowboys riding alongside the train on the way back. 

                       A photo of me getting robbed.

A toast made with a glass of delicious sparkling apple cider (or free champagne for the drinkers). 

Susie and Mischa own a lovely mountain cabin in Munds Park (close to Flagstaff) where we all went glamping for a few days along with Mischa's sweet mother, Janet. All three women are lawyers and are smart, witty, and gracious hosts, plus they have Chuck. 

                                            Chuck.

                            Janet, Susie, and Mischa.

 I wasn't thrilled about the snow, but Ruby jumped right in.

Chuck is a senior Havanese with a delightful under bite. Ruby and Chuck quickly resembled an old married couple and basically ignored each other. Cray and I fell in love with Chuck.

Visiting Winslow, Arizona was on my must-do list. We listened to the Eagles sing Take it Easy and drove route 66 into town. 

                                Kissing on the corner...

We also explored Winslow's historic La Posada Hotel. Designed by a famous female architect, Mary Elizabeth Jane Colter, La Posada Hotel was commissioned by Fred Harvey in the 1920's (we saw Colter's famous buildings at the Grand Canyon as well). La Posada Hotel was saved from demolition in the 90's by a rich sculptor, Allen Affeldt, and his renown artist wife, Tina Mion. They filled the historical hotel with Tina's original art. 

A very long list of famous people stayed at the hotel in it's heyday including, Emilia Earhart, Albert Einstein, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Betty Gable, and John Wayne. I would love to spend a few days in this art-filled- museum myself.

                                          

On Sunday we ate brunch at the iconic Toasted Owl restaurant in Flagstaff. Afterwards, we walked around the historic Flagstaff district and Janet bought fudge for us to eat later that night at the cabin (a woman after my own heart).

 Reportedly, the most haunted hotel in Flagstaff, but it didn't scare me.

Never Ending Love

Ruby has a new beau named Pogo. Their love story has all the makings of a Hallmark movie, or a coming-of-age story, like the 1971 classic movie Harold and Maude. It wasn't love at first sight. 

We are currently staying in Sun City West with Pogo's owner, our gracious host Kim, and the camper is parked in a storage unit nearby. Kim lives in a spacious home with a large outdoor pool and hot tub. Pogo and his brother Duke, a large senior blockhead lab (blockhead being the breed, not a slam on old Duke), run free in her rambling fenced backyard. 

 

This is Duke, a kind old lab who is blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other.

When Ruby and Pogo met there were fireworks, but not the romantic kind.  We didn't plan their introduction well on our first visit in January, which resulted in Pogo wearing a muzzle, a pinch collar, and Ruby spending time in her kennel. This visit we were determined that Pogo and Ruby would learn to get along. 

Like a movie on the Lifetime channel, Pogo and Ruby met in an awkward fashion. They disliked each other immediately, but due to circumstances beyond their control were forced to co-exist. Finally, they realized they liked each other…a lot. 

Their love affair involves dog-play. They bark, bite, yelp, scratch, and bat at each other - usually under our feet - until they are separated or get tired and end up dozing next to each other on the couch. Ruby is an old lady and Pogo is a pup, but it's apparent they have a never ending love.

Happy Valentine's Day from Arizona!

My Insight Into Quartzsite

                                           Cray and I posing in the desert outside Quartzsite.

Quartzsite is a sleepy little desert town in Arizona.

Thousands of people descend upon Quartzsite every winter for a famous two-month long gem show and swap meet, known as the "Desert Phenomenon." To understand Quartzsite you have go there. I've never seen anything like it. There are brick and mortar stores, but the majority of vendors display their treasures in parking lots on tables and shelves, under tents and pop-up shade canopies, on open air tables, and on the  ground. Less organized vendors let their goods spill out of old RV's, trucks, and vans making it difficult to distinguish what's merchandise, personal belongings, and actual trash. 

                                                             Stack it deep, sell it cheap.

                                                    Everything in this store was a dollar.

Quartzsite is a gem show, flea market, garage sale, RV show, farmer's market, swap meet, family reunion, gun and ammo sale, redneck round-up, dog and pony show, hippie-fest, all rolled up into one big package. Imagine throwing this chaos into the middle of the Iowa State Fair.  There are camel rides at Quartzsite and tons of people riding ATVs, but no roller coasters or ferris wheels. Food stands abound and tempt shoppers with State Fair-like foods that included corn dogs, funnel cakes, and giant cinnamon rolls. Simply add the desert's dry gritty dirt and stir.  

                                                       This booth sold sun visors for dogs.

                                               The side of this bus read "Suicide Awareness."

                                  

                                       The famous RV big tent show.

                                                                         A clever sign.

Cray and I camped as guest at a RV Women's (RVW) rally. We joined ninety one rigs and one hundred thirty one women, from all over the United States, at their annual four day dry-camping event. The women gathered in the desert to socialize, shop at Quartzsite, and share information about the RV lifestyle.

The RVW rally was located next to the Beaver rally. Disappointedly, the Beaver rally turned out to be a gathering of conservative rich white couples that owned luxury class A motor coaches each priced around a million dollars. Their loud generators rudely ran day and night.  

                                                          A Beaver luxury motor coach. 

One Quartzsite experience still weighs heavy on my heart. I was drifting around the market with three of my new RVW friends, when I spotted a sign hanging on a blue canopy booth that read "Psychic Readings and Original Art.'" The booth was connected to a cluster of run down rigs with tattered wares spilling out between them to form a courtyard flea market mess. 

Out of curiosity, I wandered over to check out the art and the psychic. The fiftyish year old woman behind the table had a familiar face and a ready smile. She wore a common Quartzsite look: weary and a little shabby around the edges. I instantly sensed she had a good heart, and my my intuition was quickly confirmed when a grubby little girl jumped out of a beat up black truck and ran to wrap her bare arms around the woman's waist.  The woman exclaimed, "I didn't know I was going to get to see you today," and warmly hugged her back. 

The little girl stepped away from the woman and began to relay her remarkable news in a rushed little girls voice, "Guess what? I saw my mom for the first time in five years and she said I could come to visit her in Virginia soon and stay as long as I wanted to and I can even get a puppy! She had to leave but she'll be back in 21 days!" 

The little girl turned out to be a nine year old named Althea. I don't know if the woman was a relative or a friend, but it was obvious she was important. On the table were little rocks with crude splashes of paint on them and a sign that announced they were painted by Althea. I have a nine year old granddaughter paints rocks prettier than mine. Althea's small rocks appeared to be painted by a much younger child, or perhaps they reflected a life lacking color. I was fascinated and sadden by Althea and the story she told. The fact that she was nine years old and hadn't seen her mom in five year, combined with her mother's improbable promises, smelled like disappointment and heartache to me. Althea had the appearance of a child who had been disappointed a lot in her short life. 

I asked her how much she was selling her rocks for and the woman nudged Althea towards me. At first she said one dollar, but quickly change it to fifty cents. As I was digging in my bag for change she said, "You can just have it." I insisted I wanted to pay her, but she stubbornly shook her head no and glanced down at the ground. I don't know what was going on in her head, but I imagined she was sending me a message that she didn't need my money - or my pity - and she could take care of herself. I thanked her for the generous gift and picked up my original Althea Rock to carry in my pocket.

Before I walked away, I asked if I could take her photo claiming I needed it to remember the artist who painted my rock. Surprisingly, she agreed. The grandmotherly woman nodded her head at Althea in approval.  Before Althea walked around the booth for her photo, she instinctively hung the hood of her small pink sweatshirt over her head to hide her brown matted hair.

                                                                             

                                                                          Those eyes.

I turned to look back as I walked away. Althea had taken her place at a tiny desk next to the psychic’s booth and was earnestly painting more rocks. 

Boondocking in the sprawling Arizona desert is a different experience than one shopping in town. Cray and I camped there for eleven days, which was eleven days too long, if you ask me. There is a big learning curve to successfully boondock. We purchased a camper billed as one made for taking off the grid. Our camper has a solar panel, two lithium batteries, and an inverter. The tires are bigger than most camper tires and it sets up high to enable crossing over rugged terrain. The heater is propane, but it still needs electricity to run the blower. The stove is propane and thankfully it does not require electricity. In the end, all we had was the heat from the stove.

 I mistakenly disregarded the advice of a seasoned RVW women who suggested we turn off the water pump and only use our solar lights. By day five we were out of power.  The temperatures at night dropped into the 30's and 40's. We lacked enough power to run the furnace. It was colder in our camper than it was in our rapidly warming refrigerator. On top of being cold, Cray couldn't use her C-PAP at night, which made us both tired and grumpy during the day. 

I wrote in my journal, "There comes a moment in the morning when the ache in my hips becomes worse than my desire to stay warm and I have to get up. The first step out of the warm oasis of covers and Cray's body heat is the worst. The biting cold makes me cuss out loud and the toilet seat feels like a tiny iceberg under my bare bottom. The first relief of the cold comes from the propane stove when I heat water for coffee. Soon the chill lessens in my bones, but never goes away until the sun blazes in the sky and I'm forced to tear off layers of clothes. The rhythm of the desert beats like this: cold, cool, warm, hot, warm, cool, cold, and repeat. 

Eventually, we cut our time in the desert short and opted for the creature comforts of a nearby KOA campground where we plugged into water and electricity and dusted everything off. 

                                                                        Salome KOA

                            The scenery looks much different when we are parked in a KOA.

The dust in the desert is relentless. I hated it. I know hate is a strong word, but honestly, I much prefer green grass, rolling hills, shade trees, large bodies of water. I'll take mud - or even snow- over dust any day. I am a plains woman through and through, my experience camping at Quartzsite solidified that. 

                                                                    Great new friends.

The experience was not all doom and gloom. We met lots of wonderful RV women, made great new friends, and laughed a lot every day. In the evening we often shared a meal with our neighbors, listened to music around the campfire, or played Farkle in the warmth of someones big RV. 

                        Live music.

                                                                          Good times.

The sunrises and sunsets were the true "Desert Phenomena" in my opinion. The stars are amazing at night. I haven't been able to see all the stars in a dark sky since I left my dark hometown of Harvey. I am a natural rock hound and spent hours walking around picking up pieces of quartz to bring home -  much to Cray’s dismay. She thinks we have too much stuff in the back of the truck already. 

                                Beautiful.

Ruby seemed to love the desert. She was able to roam around off leash a little, provided we kept a close eye on her. She jumped into our neighbors camper van one day and made herself at home. A couple RV women threatened to drive away with her and she got lots of attention and love. 

We bathed Ruby in the camper shower at the KOA and the water ran brown. She was like new after her bath, and so was I. In the future we will limit boondocking to three or four days tops and take every precaution to conserve energy.  As for Quartzsite? I'm not sure if I'll be going back.

                                                                    Leaving Quartzsite.