Week 11: This Desert Life

(or, a writer who hasn't stopped moving in four months stops moving)

WHEN LAST WE LEFT OUR INTREPID HERO

He was drinkin’ some drinks, feeling’ some feels, and havin’ some thoughts in the bright lights of the big city. And one of those thoughts was ‘Gosh, it might be nice to sleep in the same place two nights in a row for the first time since I left Cleveland.’

It’s funny- back in the OTHER life, when I was trying to imagine what the day-to-day of this adventure would look like, I kind of imagined it would be me spending like two weeks in a city- going to all the coffeeshops, finding the cool bars, playing an open mic or two, seeing all the bookstores, meeting new people- and then, when I got tired of that, finding a campground in a forest somewhere and spending a week or two just chilling. And then, when the first whisper of wanderlust tickled the back of my neck, find a new city and do it all again.

Sounds awesome, right?

The adventure has not worked out that way! The Wanderlust has had me gripped firmly in its talons, and the Big Cities have tended to be expensive, stressful, and a little bit depressing. I know I just spent a week haunting Vegas, but that was a special case- most of the time I’m ready to move on after a couple days. I’ve been moving relentlessly, driven by some strong wind, tumbling down through the wild spaces, the lost highways, the liminal interstices where the strange trees grow.

In short, I haven’t wanted to stop. Even when I’m in the cities- Seattle, Portland, Las Vegas- I’m bouncing from neighborhood to neighborhood, spending each night in a different place, looking for something new. I haven’t felt the least desire to stop my wheels from moving- Until now.

the view from the camping spot

I DISCOVER THE JOYS AND WONDERS OF THE BLM LANDS

When I was first thinking about this adventure, back in Cleveland, what feels like a lifetime ago, there were several categories of responses- some people were really enthusiastic, others were supportive but a bit worried, others not quite able to get their heads around the fact that I was proposing to sleep in the back of a construction van for a year. But there were some others, too, who had either done stuff like this before or wanted to, and all of them- every single one- told me to check out the Bureau of Land Management.

I mean… boring. What? I don’t fuck with Bureaus, man. That sounds like government shit! And then every traveler I met on the road was like, ‘Oh man, bet you can’t wait to get down in the BLM Lands!’ And eventually, I figured it might be worth a google.

Now, we’ve talked about National Forests, and how (most of them) will let you park for up to two weeks without hassling you to move on. I’ve stayed overnight several times in National Forests, but the problem with National Forests is that there’s a whole lot of trees in them, but not a whole lot of roads or places to camp. They also tend to have a very distinct lack of 5g cell service, which means no internet, which means no job, which means no gas to get to the next National Forest.

Anyways, BLM lands are kind of like National Forests, but they tend to be in the desert. They’re huge! Like half of Nevada and Utah are BLM lands. And a cell tower packs a lot more punch in the desert, so there’s a lot more options for connected desolate wilderness.

And you can just… stay there. No park entrance fee, no exorbitant campground costs (Seriously, campgrounds, it would be cheaper to stay in a HOTEL than some of you.) Nobody with a 30 foot RV, fifteen kids, and a Atmos surround sound system pulling in five feet from you. You just find a spot, park, and… chill.

It’s great.

Or… It’s mostly great.

Speaking of chill…

what about this image screams ‘FRIGID AS BALLS’?

HOLY FUCK DOES IT GET COLD IN THE DESERT

I mean… people tried to tell me that. I don’t know if you’re picking up on a theme, but I tend to have to learn shit for myself, and you could have had a chorus of a thousand angels singing the ‘Hymn Of How It Gets Pretty Cold In The Desert Sometimes’ and it still wouldn’t have gotten through my head because the movies have taught me that DESERT=HOT.

I mean, I was sweating my ass off in Vegas, and I found a BLM site barely half an hour outside the city! Why was it cold?

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

After the emotional rollercoaster of Vegas (and, indeed, the last six-to-seven months) I looked deep within myself and, somewhat to my surprise, did not feel an overwhelming desire to go explore California or Arizona or whatever. For the first time in a long time, I felt like it might be nice to just… stop.

For just a bit.

When I was in Vegas, and knowing that I was going to actually have to be in the presence of other human beings, I figured it was a good chance for a haircut, so I found a spot and got ‘em chopped. The nice young lady who cut my hair also had some very good recommendations for stuff to do, good dive bars, and a little spot outside of Vegas called Lovell Canyon. She said it was a BLM spot, dispersed camping, and that if I felt like chilling for a bit, nobody would bother me out there. And, the best part- it is close enough to Vegas that there is a super clear, five-thick-bar 5g cell signal out there.

I thought about hitting the road, heading back into California, seeing new sexy rocks, you know the drill. And then I thought about parking the van for a week and not moving- and got a little trill of excitement. Besides, I wasn’t totally sure where I wanted to go or which direction I wanted to head- for the first time since I set out from Cleveland, I didn’t have anywhere to be or anybody to meet up with or any conventions to get to. I could do whatever I wanted- freedom.

And what I wanted was to explore this exciting new crush I’d recently developed on arid scrubland, tiny little mostly dead trees, and cute little cactus. I wanted to plant my ass in the desert for a bit, and see where this relationship went.

So I drove out to Lovell Canyon, and lo and behold, there was the occasional gravel trail- I won’t dignify them by using the word ‘road’- that led off into the scrubbrush, and occasionally there would be a sort-of-level patch with no cactus on it and a little ring of stones for a campfire (not that you are allowed to have campfires just now- I imagine they would literally put you in jail for lighting a cigarette this time of year). I found a spot up on top of a hill, literally half a mile from the nearest other camper, and parked my van.

It was glorious. I contemplated the idea of not moving for a few days, and it felt very strange. But a good kind of strange. It’s own kind of adventure.

I made myself a cup of coffee, cracked open my laptop, and set about loving life.

And then the sun went down.

ABSOLUTELY FREEZING

COLD LIKE I HAVE NEVER KNOWN

There is a part in the final book of the Dark Tower series (by Stephen King) that I thought about several times this week. In that part of the book our adventurers- who had been through every kind of horror and terror and struggle up to this point- were almost defeated by something they just couldn’t handle: 40 degree weather.

I never understood that- What? 40 degrees isn’t warm, but it’s not below freezing; why would that be so hard to endure?

I get it now. I only had to do like four days of it, and that was ENOUGH. I realized it is one thing to take a walk in 40 degree weather- you got a nice jacket, you’re active, it’s bracing- and another to sit at a desk in 40 degree weather and try to type with fingers that haven’t been warm in three days. It’s not awful, it’s totally bearable, but it just wears you the fuck down. Because it just doesn’t end- there’s no warm house or car to escape into. The only source of heat is your own body, so all you can do is put every layer you can find on, and shiver.

You know how just last week I was talking about how there wasn’t much physical discomfort on this adventure anymore? Well, my mouth to god’s ear, and all that.

Now, it wasn’t that bad. Even the coldest days got up in the low 50’s around noon, which seeped into the van through the windows and got me into the early evenings. But I would still argue that there is an immense difference between taking a hike in 52 degree weather and having your office be 52 degrees. I heated my cast iron pan up and let it radiate heat, Little House On The Prarie style. I did push-ups. I folded all my blankets in half so that now I had DOUBLE BLANKETS. I even- and I am ashamed to say it- even turned the van on and ran the heat a couple times, flagrantly wasting my precious Adventure Gas on something so pedestrian as comfort.

Now- as I am starting to discover- sometimes my tounge-in-cheek recountings of my adventures cause some of y’all to worry. Let me be clear! It never even got close to freezing, and I have a very good sub-zero sleeping bag if it ever does. Not to mention that I can burn some gas and heat the van if it ever gets too cold. I’ll never be in a position where cold is dangerous- it’s just uncomfortable, and annoying.

And, like most things about Vanlife, this problem has already been solved- diesel-powered heaters are safe, efficient, and cheap. It’s been low on my priority list, since I was planning on chasing the temperate zones around the country, but I’m starting to realize that even the ‘warm’ parts of the country are probably going to get chilly once in a while; January is gonna January. And I don’t love the idea that there’s a place I want to see (San Fransisco, cough) that I would have to skip just because it’s a bit cold there this time of year. So I’ll probably finish insulating the van pretty soon and maybe even get a heater- no need to worry. It’ll be a bit of a construction project, but I’m starting to get the urge to spend some time in a Home Depot parking lot in Construction Mode, so that will be fun (when that day comes).

But, anyways, you know, now that the worst of it is passed, and I’m sitting baking in the 75 degree desert sun, I’m almost nostalgic for it! It was weirdly fun, for a few days, seeing how much I could take. I hate the cold; I’m a freeze-baby. It was kinda interesting, figuring out ways to keep myself just this side of miserable with the tools I had at my disposal.

But it was profoundly odd to be hunched over inside two hoodies and a blanket, as cold as I’d ever been, looking at cactus. Like, what is that? And I’m not even in the High Desert- I would have expected it! I’m in the goddamn Mojave! I’m an hour’s drive from Death Valley!

It just goes to show you. …I mean, I don’t know what it just goes to show, but it does. I promise. It goes to show you something. Something profound.

i didn’t dare cross this boundary, lest i be lost in the wilderness forever

THE LOVE AFFAIR (WITH THE DESERT) CONTINUES

But don’t all relationships have some ups and downs? Sure, the desert give me a bit of a cold shoulder, but warmed up eventually. I discovered that most of the Southwest was experiencing similarly unseasonable temperatures (Thanks, Al Gore, for inventing Climate Change. What a jerk!) and after a few days, the Mojave started behaving more like the Mojave. Which is to say, 40’s at night (no problem, Double Blankets) and 70’s during the day. It’s actually kind of nice! The mornings are frosty, boy, but it’s sort of fun dashing into a bunch of warm clothes, and then gradually stripping ‘em off as the temperature rises until I’m in my Official Adventure Uniform of shorts, t-shirt, and my beloved flops.

But it is WILD how fast the temperature drops as soon as that sun goes down. It’s like a hammer coming down, and the hoodies and socks and long pants make their triumphant return. It’s an interesting cycle, and after a week of it, I’m not bored of it yet.

In fact, I’m so not bored of it that I’m gonna stay another week. I drove back into the outskirts of the city to get a shower and some more coffee beans, and then came right back to ol’ Lovell canyon. I found a different spot in a different section; just as remote; just as few neighbors. And this one is actually kind of flat, so I don’t constantly feel like I’m about to slide into the front of the van while I’m trying to work!

It’s an interesting change, not moving for a bit. For the first four days, where I was more-or-less confined inside the van by the cold, I realized how small the space I’m living in actually is- six feet by six feet by ten. It started to feel a little claustrophobic, and then it stopped, and started feeling comfortable. It really is all the space I need, and sometimes it’s fun having literally everything in my life within arm’s reach. And now that it’s warmer, when I need a break from the van, I take a long walk through the desert, get some vistas in my eyeballs, and return invigorated. For the first time on this adventure, I’m developing a sense of place, a connection to this arid, rocky bit of wasteland. It’s kind of cool, and not something I was expecting.

But don’t worry! Even as I’m writing this, I’m getting that faintest of whispers, that breath on the back of my neck: THE CALL TO ADVENTURE. I mean, if I’m the hero in my own story (as we all should be) then I need a good Call To Adventure, right? That’s screenwriting 101! At the end of this week I’ll be hitting the road again, returning to my nomadic ways, putting new places and strange roads into my eyeballs- and, by extension, yours.

fire in the mountains (but it was the forestry service so no worries)

BUT AIN’T YOU BORED BRUH?

Some of you might remember that I have a deep, unwavering terror of ever, even for one second, being a tiny little bit bored. I was curious how I was going to handle being stuck in one spot for two weeks- I mean, I have the internet, but no video games and only one streaming service (and I watched just about everything on there already). Was I going to get bored?

Well, no. Or- maybe I’m so profoundly bored that it’s turned into something else, some sort of alchemical magic trick. I’m probably gonna talk a bit more about this next week (since my ‘Adventure’ updates will basically be more of the van sitting in the desert) but something about being planted among the cactii- as well as a pretty profound epiphany I picked up from the latest season of The White Lotus- has spun me into one of the most intensely focused creative flow-states I’ve ever been in.

Kids, I’ve been in it. Work is a bit slow at the moment so I had a more-or-less clean schedule, and somehow, I’ve just been murdering it. I literally have no space in my brain for anything else- apologies to anybody who I haven’t replied to or dropped the conversation- I feel like I’m on Mars. In the best possible way. Doesn’t make me a great friend at the moment, but I feel like a hell of a writer.

I’ll tell ya about that part of it next week. Right now?

I gotta get back to some other worlds.

Danka, all you beautiful people. I’ll see you next week, when I might even have more than three spare brain cells to spare for Adventure Talkin’. Until then, love somebody the way I love this little lizard dude that’s sitting outside of my van right now and sunning on a rock and OH MY GOD HE’S SO CUTE but he ran away before I could take a picture. /heartbreak