Sunday, March 22 and Monday, March 23
Bits and pieces in this post . . .
Upper Pahranagat Lake, Alamo, Nevada
Bridget, Reggie and I walk the campground road and come upon two men tenting. Reggie starts to bark because one of the men is dressed all in black.
“He doesn’t like your color choice,” I explain, grinning. “Hush, Reggie!”
The men ask me several questions about the area as if I know anything. We chat for a bit and then the crew and I continue our walk.
The next day the men stop by our camp on their way out.
“We’re leaving. We’re going to drive to Barstow today. There’s a geological formation around there someplace. . . . ”
Soon I have the California Benchmark atlas open on my new table.
“See there? That’s Owl Canyon,” I say, pointing at the map. “I camped there a few years ago. Great little campground with interesting rock all around and a trail going out from the campground. Not expensive and Rainbow Basin is right around the corner.”
The guys ask about the Perfect Tow Vehicle and the Best Little Trailer.
“Would you set yourself up differently? one asks. Of course that’s an opening for me to brag on my set-up. One guy is interested in having a trailer. The other guy mentions he’d like to have a van. (Both men are in their late 50s, that age when plans for retirement are on one’s mind.)
I invite them both to read my blog. I also suggest cheaprvliving.com to learn about van dwelling.
Air compressor dies . . .
I check the tire pressure in preparation for our next move. The air in all four PTV tires is slightly low.
I hook up the air compressor I inherited from my uncle. The trusty Roadpro is over 30 years old. I plug it into the PTV’s socket and pull out the air hose. It’s broken into two pieces. Cracked with old age. Darn.
I wrap the two ends together with electrical tape, turn on the engine, and hook up the compressor to the valve stem. It works for a while and then the air line blows apart. Shoot!
Quickly I take the thing off. I check the psi. Great, now it’s down to 25.
“Well, guys. Looks like we need to go to town.”
I pull into the tire shop next to the Sinclair gas station.
A thirty-ish man prepares to pump the air in the tires. We discuss psi.
“The van door says 35,” I begin. “The people who sold me the tires put them at 45. I tow a small, lightweight trailer. What do you recommend?”
“55 is good for these tires. With 10-ply like these, you can go up to 80. 45 is too soft. With 55 they’ll ride better and last longer.”
“Okay, then.”
I ask him about the Marathon tires I have on the BLT.
His response is that all trailer tires are pretty much the same and none are that great.
“Even Maxxis?” I ask. “They cost a lot more.”
“You’re payin’ for the name, ma’am,” he responds. “They’re all made the same.”
On another subject, I gave you wrong information.
About Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge Campground on Upper Pahranagat Lake. I wrote that generators are not allowed. Well, that is what it says on the refuge website. However, the rule isn’t enforced. Thought I should let you know.
Hmm . . . I wonder if that’s why most of the birds are at Lower Pahranagat Lake.
Will there soon be no campgrounds without the sound of generators?
The secret grocery store . . .
I found the grocery store! It’s at the Sinclair station in Alamo. This is what it looks like. No sign. No indication that there is anything but a Chester’s Chicken place inside.
Also . . . behind the in cognito grocery store are two water spigots.
I go inside and ask the young woman at the register if that is drinking water and if I might fill some jugs.
“Oh, it’s fine,” she says. “People get water for their horses there all the time.”
Hmm . . . . Not a definite answer.
“Since I’m not a horse, do you know if it’s all right for people to drink?”
She laughs.
“Yeah, it’s okay. It’s the same water as we use in the restaurant.”
rvsue
Canine Corner: “Boondockin’ dog” by Bridget and Reggie
“Miss Bridget? Have I been a good boondocker so far? I mean, am I doin’ it right and everything?”
“Oh, Reggie. We haven’t even gone boondocking yet. We’ve been in campgrounds ever since you came to live with RVSue and me.”
“Rats! I want to be a boondocker! I want to be the best boondockin’ dog in the whole world!”
“Calm down, you’ll have your chance. You have to learn to be a campground dog first.”
“You mean stay in The Pen? I HATE The Pen!”
“So do I, but RVSue puts us in it to keep us safe. That’s why you have to be on a leash, too. You might run off and be lost again. You did get lost once, you know.”
“I know. I made a big mistake. It turned out okay though. (pause) Miss B?”
“Yes, Reggie? What is it?”
“Have I been a good campground dog? I try to make RVSue happy. I really do!”
“You’re pretty good. You’re learning how to walk alongside me on the leash. You are nice to people and to the little dogs in the campground. RVSue wants us to be nice. Um . . . You do go nuts with the big dogs, barking and jumping and kicking up dirt with your back legs. That’s a little over the top.”
“Oh. I was trying to scare them away.”
“Don’t worry about it, tyke. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“What about being a boondocker dog? Do you think I can do it? Do you think I’ll be as good as Spike someday?”
(pause)
“Miss B? You okay?”
“Oh, Reggie, dear Reggie. Listen to me. There never will be another boondocker like Spike. Never. It can’t be done. Don’t worry though. You do the best you can, and I bet you’ll be the stuff of legends someday.”
* * *
NOTE: I’m taking a break from replying to comments. Y’all will do fine without me. I’ll be reading though. 🙂
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