Saturday, February 11
Reggie and I walk the length of Corvina Beach primitive camping area.
It’s another sunny day at the Salton Sea!
We pass a rig where two men are having a conversation. Reggie, of course, runs to the end of his tether in an effort to meet them. One of the men immediately calls Reggie by name, revealing he’s a reader of this blog.
I learn that John is a former geography teacher who has traveled the world. He’s at the Salton Sea to escape the cold and snow at his home in Pennsylvania. This trip is a “test” to see if full-time RVing is the right plan for his retirement. So far he likes what he’s experienced on this trip.
“The taxes on my little house in Pennsylvania are four thousand dollars a year,” he laments.
Meanwhile Reggie plays with Willy, a scruffy terrier smaller than he is by three pounds. The other man standing with John and me is also named John. He isn’t aware of this blog and asks me what it’s called.
Second John snowbirds at his place in Yuma. He’s at the Salton Sea because he plans to join friends at a golf event tomorrow. Second John contrasts where we are at this moment –blue sky, sea gulls calling, warmth on our shoulders — with his other home.
“It’s 17 degrees in Saskatchewan and they’re expecting a foot of snow tomorrow.”
Sunday, February 12
Reggie and I continue our happy routine of walking the sandy path to the Salton Sea Recreation Area where there is a campground and day use area.
Even though I’m enjoying the walk, I sense the emergence of that ol’ bugaboo . . . depression. It’s hardly noticeable, but I’m always on guard to catch it when it emerges.
It starts as a slight distraction from living in the moment.
Of course, I have no reason for being depressed, just the opposite! That is what is so maddening about it!
Anyway . . . I’ve learned a few techniques to deal with it, until it runs its course and my spirits lift again.
One trick is to change my scenery.
“You know, Reg, we should take a little ride. Go up to Mecca or someplace.”
It’s a pleasant, little jaunt, rolling along in the Perfect Tow Vehicle with the windows down.
At Mecca, the PTV turns left, away from the town, and takes us to a hub of activity around a travel center at the intersection with Route 86.
I pull up to Subway and go inside where I direct the lady behind the counter in the making of a sandwich with “carved turkey.”
Returning to the PTV . . . “Hey, Reg, you’re gonna’ love this!”
He sniffs the bag and wiggles his butt.
“But we’re not eating it here, honey. It’s too hot. You have to wait until we get home, and we’ll have a picnic together.”
I’m feeling much better!
Until the Best Little Trailer comes into view . . . .
Next to the BLT is a car . . . .
What the heck? Of all the places to park, why there?
It’s soon obvious the occupants are gawkers. There’s no other reason to park there. The giggling women crane their necks to look as we drive past. Their pretense at getting out to stretch (while gawking) at the very moment Reggie and I get out of the PTV, well, there’s no question what they’re up to.
Disgusted, I open the door of our home.
“Come on, Reg. Let’s have our sandwich inside.”
With some people, no matter how much you give, it’s never enough.
Monday, February 13
Depressed most of the day. I try to blog. No good. I still experience waves of anger at the people lying in wait for our return home. And then I’m irritated with myself for letting them spoil my state of being.
There are people, like the two Johns, who are fun to meet in the normal course of a day. Then there are the others. We should leave first thing in the morning. I want to remember the Salton Sea as the wonderful retreat it has been.
Tuesday, February 14
“It’s goodbye to the Salton Sea, Reg. Time for us to go. ”
We had a wonderful time at Corvina Beach, walking the sandy trails, watching and listening to the sea birds, as well as the trains, and basking in the sunshine.
Reggie assumes the co-pilot position in his doggie bed next to me.
Before leaving Corvina Beach, Reggie and I stop at the water spigot and I fill up a few jugs. Then we zip north on Route 111, cross over the train tracks, and zigzag our way around fields of new crops and rows of vines with their fresh leaves waving in the morning sunshine.
The Perfect Tow Vehicle follows the winding road through Box Canyon.
Beyond the canyon the road straightens and Interstate 10 comes into view. This desert area at the edge of the Orocopia Mountains Wilderness is home to a variety of plants. I camped on Box Canyon Road a while back, but only overnight.
Someday I should look for a secluded boondock closer to the mountains. Would need to bring plenty of supplies and we’re not prepared for that today.
“Good idea, Reg. We’ll go for a little walk and then you can settle down for the ride on the interstate.”
We follow a wash that is bordered by bushes displaying new leaves. The creosote has “greened up.” The wash meanders around palo verde and ocotillo.
We board the PTV again and head for the on-ramp for I-10.
As we approach I notice several RVs, widely spaced, along the road running parallel to the interstate and bordering the perimeter of Joshua Tree National Park. It’s too cold for camping in Joshua Tree now, due to the elevation. (That’s my opinion; surely others may disagree.)
Those camps provide a good base for exploring the park during the day — lower elevation than the park itself and free! Maybe someday we’ll do that . . . .
The PTV, with Best Little Trailer tagging along, zips eastward to Blythe.
At Midland LTVA, I dump tanks and then search for a camp in a new-to-us area across the road from the main area and where we camped previously. I set up camp, check the blog, and then take a break, sitting in the outdoor room.
I smile at the Big Maria Mountains.
This was a good move. I can get more stuff done in Blythe. We have a peaceful, private campsite. Every day brings us closer to the time when we can begin this year’s explorations.
And I’m feeling really good again!
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