Monday, February 9
The Salton Sea photos in this post were taken over a period of a few days. I chose to post the shots that best convey the atmosphere of this camp, regardless of quality. I hope you enjoy them!
Bridget and I arrive at Salt Creek Beach Primitive Campground along the Salton Sea in southeastern California.
At the self-pay kiosk I slide a check for $20 into a pay envelope and insert it in the receptacle. This campground is part of the state’s Salton Sea Recreation Area ($10, no hook-ups, portable toilet building, shared water spigot, picnic tables).
Two nights and then I’ll decide whether we want to stay longer.
I position the Best Little Trailer keeping shade in mind.
Placing the BLT’s door to face the Sea, one steps outside into harsh sun. Also, the BLT’s refrigerator is on that side. If one puts the other side facing the Sea, the door faces the camp road. Hmm . . . . Neither way is good.
I back in, facing the back window toward the Sea.
This positions the door and the refrigerator facing toward the sun also. I can fix that problem!
I unhitch the Perfect Tow Vehicle and drive her parallel to the BLT on the door/fridge side which creates a shady aisle between both. In fact, it’s so nicely shaded that I don’t bother to unroll the awning. I put down the blue mat, set out my lounger, Bridgie’s bed and her water dish.
We’re all set!
(If it weren’t for the long extension cord I bought at Starlight Solar, I wouldn’t be able to do this. It connects the plug at the BLT’s tongue with the plug on the PTV’s bumper.)
It’s a hot afternoon. We sit in the shade. I read. When the sun goes down, the air cools. Bridget and I take a walk on the beach.
Tuesday, February 10
Hmm . . . Several rigs pulled in last night. We’re sandwiched between two of them. No matter, we’re not hanging around camp today anyway. We need groceries!
Bridget is such a good, little traveler.
Even after yesterday’s journey here from Yuma, she’s game for another drive.
Off we go on Route 111 north which follows the shoreline of the Salton Sea. Road construction slows us several times. The road cuts through acres of date palms and orange trees, past dilapidated buildings that once attracted tourists, now attracting dust. One town blends into another . . . . North Side . . . Mecca . . . Coachella. We pass several detour signs. Traffic continues to build.
In Coachella a city atmosphere takes over.
Typical mall-type environment and the drivers to match. I catch a glimpse of a food store called “Food 4 Less.” That’ll work.
First Bridget has her much-anticipated walk-around.
She squiggles, squirms, and yips with excitement as I put her into her black suit with leash.
I grab a poop bag and lift her down to the pavement. We dash over to the closest median and from there Bridget explores each bush, finding the best one by which to leave her business.
All that careful decision-making and I deposit her pooper elsewhere . . .
“Okay, goober, you’ve had your walk. I’ll be back as quickly as I can!”
The store is huge with wide aisles stacked high.
The produce section is fantastic. A definite Hispanic flair here. Big on mangoes and papaya. Those funny-looking bananas. Avocados piled like ammunition. A large bin of scoop-your-own pinto beans that I’d love to run my hands through but resist. Spices galore. Three hundred varieties of peppers. An avalanche-about-to-happen of Mexican squash.
I grab a few from the top.
A Hispanic lady about my age and standing next to me grabs some, too. She gives me a big, warm smile which I return.
One side of an aisle is nothing but candles with religious pictures on them.
A few aisles over I come to the butcher department.
Good heavens! Excitement is in the air! Huge slabs of beef 6 inches thick! “I’ll have a side of cow please.” What the heck do you cook that in or on?
All kinds of meat and fish. The butcher case extends about four times longer than what one usually sees in a big store. I roll my cart by.
I reach the dairy case at the other end of the store.
I look around. It occurs to me that I’m the only Anglo in the store. That’s why I’m being smiled at so much!
Everyone is speaking Spanish. I don’t recognize half the stock and certainly wouldn’t have any idea what to do with it. Boy, Hispanic people sure know a lot of things to do with dairy . . . .
Okay, enough store talk, back to camp . . .
“Hey, Bridge. It looks like a few neighbors left today!”
Wednesday, February 11
After coffee, breakfast, and checking in with this blog, I walk outside with Bridget. It’s a gorgeous morning, breezy and bright. The gulls and pelicans float on air currents in lazy swirls like smoke rising.
“Oh my gosh, everyone on this side of us has left!”
I swing into action.
In a few minutes the BLT is hitched to the PTV and we’re moving camp to the very end. I position the BLT at the curve of the camping area, thus placing the door toward the north end of the Salton Sea.
Our view is sand, brush, beach, water, and mountains. And birds. Beautiful. No sign of people, just how I like it, and the shade is on the door and fridge side!
Later Bridget and I walk on the beach.
At sunset I take more photos of the birds.
Every camp has its own aura. This camp is all about the birds.
Gulls squawk and laugh throughout the day. Pelicans bob on the gentle waves.
I don’t want to leave. (I put another $20 check in the receptacle at the self-pay station.)
rvsue
THANKS FOR SHOPPING AMAZON FROM MY BLOG!
