Monday, November 3
Roosevelt Lake, Arizona
Bridget and I leave Cholla Campground to take a drive along the lake.
The lake level is very low. Two campgrounds are closed. No wonder. One has a name ending in “cove” and the other has a name ending in “bay.” The cove and the bay are gone.
More evidence of low lake level is obvious at the bridge.
That’s a lotta’ bridge over very little water!
I take advantage of every pull-out in order to take photos.
Bridget wants out but our stops are too dangerously close to the road.
“You’ll have a chance later, Bridge.”
While standing at an overlook enjoying the view, I notice movement on a far away spit of land. Oh, two deer getting a drink out of the lake!
By the time I zoom in on them and remember to remove the lens cap — golly, how long will it take for me to remember that? — the deer are moving up the rocky shore. One pauses and looks in my direction.
I watch them until they disappear beyond my view.
We stop at Vineyard Canyon Picnic Area.
Such nice facilities and no one is here. I lift Bridget out of the PTV. She explores while I kick myself. I should’ve brought a dang picnic! All this jumping in and out of the PTV to take photos has me hungry. When the heck did I eat last anyway ?
I realize it’s mid-afternoon and the last time I ate was this morning — a cup of coffee and a hard-boiled egg.
“Okay, Bridge. You’ve had your little exploration. I need some food!”
I drive us past the north end of the lake to Tonto Basin.
I park the PTV and hurry into the Butcher Hook Restaurant.
I slide into a booth and scan the menu.
At this point I could EAT the menu!
Fortunately the waitress quickly appears. I order a grilled chicken sandwich, mostly because I don’t want to take the time to find something more interesting.
The sandwich is huge!
It looks like half a chicken ran through a bun. Plus there’s lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles. Three, long slices of green chilies lie in the mass of melted cheese that covers the slab of grilled chicken. Good heavens! I can’t even pick this thing up!
I dig into the “sandwich” with a knife and fork.
And, darn, if I don’t eat the whole dadburn mess! And the french fries, too!
Tuesday, November 4
Aaaaarrrggghhh! Headache! Nausea!
I awake feeling terrible. Funny thing about migraines. I’ve had enough of them that I can envision the cause with certainty. It was all that cheese! (I can eat fake cheese and a little of the real stuff, but there was a lot of good cheese on that sandwich.)
By late morning I’m well enough to get up.
I sit in the lounger in a shady spot by the picnic table.
Cheri appears! I drag a camp chair over for her and we commence getting to know each other. As it turns out, we already met and didn’t know it!
In early 2012, the crew and I camped with a few other Casita people at Dome Rock.
(Dome Rock is a BLM dispersed camping area west of Quartzsite, Arizona.) While there, one of the Rubber Tramp van dwellers group sent me an online invitation to visit them, as the Rubber Tramps were camped at Dome Rock also.
I spotted them closer to the dome and walked up the lane with Bridget and Spike. Men were chewing the fat over by a pick-up truck. One of them directed me to a circle of women nearby. At a pause in their discussion, I introduced myself and gave a brief hello to the lady who invited me and another one of my followers who was there (can’t remember names!).
The leader of the discussion that day was Cheri!
“That was you?” she exclaims.
As Cheri and I talk I become aware that all traces of my headache and nausea are gone.
Cheri recently returned to the road after 13 months with her daughter and new grandson in Astoria, Oregon. She has a son in Chandler, Arizona. We talk about the special appeal and benefits of living in a van, especially a van one has transformed into a unique home.
Cheri hadn’t intended to sit and visit when she came over.
“I just wanted to check on you and see if you needed anything,” she explains.
Tony, her Yorkie, waits for her in the van. Bridget and I walk Cheri part of the way back to her campsite. I don’t want Bridget to overdo it as she still favors that back leg.
Before parting for our respective campsites, I make a suggestion to Cheri.
“Krystina (another follower in the campground, see previous post) says I can take a photo of her rig. I’d like to take a photo of your van, too . . . . for the blog . . . if you don’t mind.”
Cheri says, “Sure, come on over any time!”
rvsue
I APPRECIATE YOU SHOPPING AMAZON FROM MY BLOG!
Thank you very much.
