Friday, March 28
I didn’t unhitch the Best Little Trailer the entire time we camped off Vulture Mine Road. This morning we pull out, stopping briefly at Rachel and Macha’s camp to say goodbye. At the intersection with Highway 60 I turn right toward downtown Wickenburg.
This post’s photos were taken at our new camp. This is a zoomed in look at the view out our door.
The community center has a dump station.
I go inside and pay Rose the $10 fee. She meets me outside and unlocks the dump. That’s when she notices me looking at the sign. It says the dump station is only open Monday-Thursday.
“We’re closed on Fridays. If I can get out here, I unlock it anyway,” Rose explains.
I thank her profusely.
I empty the black and grey water tanks, fill up the fresh water tank and several water jugs, and put trash in the bin. We backtrack to the intersection of Highway 60 and Vulture Mine Road. I find a place to park the PTV and BLT in the small, strip shopping mall where Kaley’s Sewing Center is located.
I had arranged for a UPS shipment to be sent there.
Boxes cost 50 cents each and envelopes are 25 cents. I pay the $1.25, toss the packages in the Perfect Tow Vehicle, and drive across the street to the post office parking lot. It’s late morning and hot.
I hoof it inside and pick up my mail.
I had emailed America’s Mailbox a few days ago to forward my mail to Wickenburg, General Delivery.
Next I move the PTV over to the Safeway parking lot. In a whirlwind I grab some meat and bones for the crew, as well as a few supplies for myself. Groceries put away in the BLT, we head north with the air conditioning humming. Spike plants himself in the breeze from the vent and Bridget whines because he has her spot.
Some things never seem to change . . .
Except maybe boondocks. We drive the eight miles or so northward on Highway 89 to the Congress BLM land where we camped the previous two springs. I get out to open the gate over the cattle guard — a new one has been installed.
The road is much sandier, very deep sand in some sections. I barrel across it, willing us to keep moving forward with the help of a few, quick, heaven-bound pleas and a steady foot on the accelerator.
We pass the bovine welcome party on the way.
Or more accurately, we pass a bunch of cattle giving us “the eye.”
N’er-do-wells hanging around the water tank . . .
I’m happy to see our site is vacant. Good! No one is camped anywhere around here! A few see-saws back and forth and the BLT finds a level spot.
An easy move today to a familiar camp
“Okay, nutcakes! Out you go!”
We return to Congress BLM for the cell signal.
I need steady signal in order to do my tax return. I set up the antenna and bingo, five bars.
This quintet shows up at our campsite. Bridget and Spike get upset at these drop-in visitors and bark furiously.
I open up my mail and find the 1099s from Social Security, Teacher Retirement System, and Amazon. The passport card didn’t arrive. Instead there’s a letter asking me to confirm my permanent address. Hoo-boy, here we go.
Even though it’s a hot day, the BLT’s interior is comfortable.
What did I get from Amazon?
Ooh, I love getting packages. Fed up with my thrift store wallet, I now have a nifty Buxton model. I also have an organizer for the PTV’s visor. That purchase decision was made after my insurance card and the PTV’s registration came loose from the clothespin holding them to the visor. They blew out the window and I had to stop and pick them up off the shoulder. Good heavens, sometimes I operate on a wing and a prayer!
The crew settles in at their new home. No cholla here!
I also got a lightweight hat for summer. It’s dorky but it gives 40 UPF protection. Bridget and Spike got nothing.
It will be a quiet night at this camp.
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