Winter Camping in the Deserts of Arizona and California
On February 9, 2009, I hooked up my rig and pulled to Quartzsite, AZ,
where I would spend the night, prior to a midday appointment in
Phoenix, Arizona the next day. Being two thirds of the way to Phoenix
from Simi Valley, CA, makes it a good stopping point on Interstate 10. As always, I stayed at the bucolic, but efficient Holiday Palms RV Park. With a reservation guaranteed for late arrival, Quartzsite represented my safe harbor for the night.
Although economic realities had diminished the snowbird RV-exodus
to the Arizona desert this winter, the town was still alive. Row upon
row of large RV’s lay unwanted and unloved at the temporary dealership
lots set up for a crowd that never arrived. If Quartzsite were not on
the interstate, it would have rolled up and blown away this winter.
Still, a quiet night’s sleep in the desert is always a good thing and I
enjoyed my brief time there.
In the morning, I unhooked the utilities from my
Pioneer travel trailer, raised the leveling jacks and drove toward
Phoenix under a clear desert sky. The clear, cold air outside was in
stark contrast to my experiences the day and evening before.
As I left LA, that Monday morning, it was rainy and
dark. Across the LA Basin and until I reached the top of the Banning
Pass, it rained. Then, as if the rain had not yet earned its place in
the low desert of California, not a sprinkle fell during my transit to
Quartzsite.
Once I was in Phoenix, I needed to find my doctor's
office in Scottsdale. With help from my Magellan GPS, I arrived there
rested and with time to take a few deep breaths before proceeding.
During my tour of the Phoenix freeway system, I
noticed large roadside pools of water where I had not seen water
before. At the doctor’s office, water stood in pools throughout the
landscaping and along the walkways. When I commented to the office
manager, she indicated that a storm had released drenching rain in
Phoenix overnight. It seems that the storm that I watched disappear in the low desert had rematerialized in Phoenix.
Leaving Phoenix on Tuesday afternoon, I traveled
northwest on US Highway 93. Other than one westward jog, where it
shares a route with Interstate 40 to Kingman, Arizona, Highway 93 makes a beeline for Las Vegas, NV, 290 miles from Phoenix. Having departed the Valley of the Sun in the late afternoon, darkness soon overtook me.
Although a long transit on a dark, desert highway might otherwise have been a problem, my prior stays at Burro Creek Campground
told me that I had nothing to fear. When I arrived at Burro Creek
after dark, it took a while to find the water-fill, but once my fresh
water tank was half full; I found a campsite adjacent to Burro Creek,
itself.
Although the temperature fell towards freezing, I
was safe and warm inside. My coach is equipped with a forced-air,
propane heater and a propane refrigerator/freezer to keep my food
fresh. Since I was dry camping, I used battery power for all other
services. With a quiet night outside and the sound of rushing Burro
Creek reaching my ears, I experienced an easy transition from
wakefulness to sleep.
Wednesday morning, I continued northwest on Highway 93. I intended to take I-40 West and arrive in Needles, CA
that afternoon. Early in my day’s journey, Highway 93 climbed to
higher elevations, displaying snowy mountains on either side of the long
valley in which the highway lies.
Stopping north of Wikieup, AZ, I discovered separate
entrances to Windmill Ranch on either side of the highway. There,
framed by the posts and crossbeam of the ranch entrance were mountains,
fresh with winter snow. Since the highway climbs until reaching a
summit near Kingman, AZ, I was interested to see if I might climb above the snowline that day.
When I stopped for fuel at a travel center on I-40,
west of Kingman, snow lay across the ground, although the roadway was
dry. The snowy landscape, juxtaposed with the big rigs entering and
leaving the truck stop provided ample contrast for my camera.
Leaving the travel center, I descended the long
grade towards Kingman. Along the way, a tour bus zoomed past me at
seventy miles per hour. It was the tour bus for the Harlem Globetrotters, rocketing towards a Las Vegas exhibition match.
At
Kingman, the two highways diverged, with Highway 93 heading northwest
towards Las Vegas. Interstate 40, which was my route, turned almost due
south. With few roadside attractions on that sixty-five mile strip of
arid desert, the trip to Needles became a moving meditation.
Approaching Needles, the interstate turns west and finally north,
avoiding mountain ranges and seeking a good river crossing along the
way.
Near Needles, there are separate bridges across the Colorado River for motor vehicles, the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railroad
and natural gas transmission pipelines. A concentration of electrical
transmission lines follows this route, as well. At that crossing,
conduits for almost all of our Old Energy and transportation services
converge. The reason for this convergence of services is the topography
on either side of the Colorado River.
In 1890, the Santa Fe Railroad built the first bridge
across the Colorado River, near Needles. Since railroad surveyors plan
rail lines with minimum elevation changes, the steep and solid
riverbanks at Needles helped the railroad reduce both construction and
operating costs. When the railroad bridge was relocated just upstream
in 1945, a new Route 66 bridge soon replaced the original railroad bridge. At that time, the 1916 highway bridge, known as Trails Arch Bridge, was decommissioned for vehicle traffic. Now
used as an oil and gas pipeline bridge, the nearly one hundred year old
structure looks like a contemporary industrial icon. When I-40
replaced Old-66 in the 1960s, a new highway bridge again spanned the
river. Not ironically, the current I-40 bridge occupies the same space
that the original railroad bridge did in 1890.
Once I
arrived in Needles, I proceeded to the Desert View Mobil Station, where I
had twice bought tires for my trailer. That second set of tires
coincided with complete replacement of the brakes and active suspension
linkages on my coach. With Desert View’s lifetime warranty, I hoped to
get my brakes fixed free. Not only had one brake stopped operating,
loose parts clanged away inside the brake assembly. When I rolled in,
the regular crew was there to greet me. Before nightfall, they had
replaced the faulty brake assembly and diagnosed a separate electrical
problem with my trailer brakes.
Once the
wheels were back on the trailer, I headed west, up the long grade on the
California side of the river. My destination was the Hole in the Wall Campground at the Mojave National Preserve,
campsite for my last night before returning to LA. Since the
campground is twenty miles off the interstate, it takes a while to get
there. As twilight turned to darkness, I arrived at the sparsely
occupied campground.
In the
spring and fall, the campground is busy, with many of the thirty-five
campsites occupied. At an elevation of 4400 feet, with remnants of
snowfall still occupying shaded areas, it was a cold 34 degrees f. when I
arrived. Unaware of how cold it might be at that elevation, I had
thawed a steak earlier that day. Unwilling to let my steak go uncooked,
I bundled up in a heavy jacket, gloves and muffler before I ventured
outside to grill the meat.
Once I
was back inside for the night, I watched a DVD movie, did some writing
on my laptop computer, ran the heater and enjoyed the lights. Around
bedtime, I realized that I had drained at least half of the available
electrical current from my house batteries. “Whoops”, I said to
myself. “I hope there is enough life in the batteries to spin the
furnace motor when I need it.”
The next
morning, it was cold in the coach. I checked the monitor panel and
found the batteries in a critically low state of charge. I was too cold
to go outside and set up my portable Honda generator, which could
easily recharge the batteries. The only other power source was my
Nissan Titan truck. Braving the elements, I sprinted outside
and started the engine. Soon, electricity flowed from the alternator on
the truck to the house batteries. That allowed me to restart the
furnace and warm the coach.
Well
warmed, with a mug of hot coffee in my gloved hands, I then ventured out
to set up and start the Honda generator. After turning off the truck
engine, I retreated inside to make breakfast while the generator
recharged the batteries. In less than an hour, the house batteries were
full and operating properly.
In a
flash of late brilliance, I remembered that a quiet night at Burro
Creek's 1,960 foot elevation was not like a deep-freeze night at 4400
feet. This was especially true after running all of my electrically
powered services. Since electrical systems operate less efficiently at
low temperatures, it is a lesson I will recall next time I winter camp
in the California desert.
On
Thursday morning, as the Sun began to warm the air, I ventured out to
take pictures of canyons, mesas and mountains shrouded in snow. Snow
typically lasts only a few days in this arid land.
This being the third day since the winter storm, it was indeed a treat
to photograph a vast, yet intimate bit of desert. I felt as if I were
going back in time, to epochs long forgotten. There, I viewed a winter
scene, much as it looked before ancient climate changes created my
spiritual home, the desert. As always, The Great Reflector stood guard over all.
Returning from my New Earth, I departed the
campground, stopping at the RV dump along the way. When I opened the
valve to release the gray water from its holding tank, nothing
happened. After about fifteen seconds, the gray water, warmed by my
recent hot shower, released and dumped down the hose. Next, I opened
the black water valve. It dumped immediately. Luckily, the previous
owner of my coach had installed a heater on the black water pipe. That
heater had been the unseen energy thief, draining my batteries
overnight. That thief was now a godsend. If that pipe remained frozen,
I would face a long drive home with a full holding tank, which meant
both a heavy and noxious issue to deal with later.
Travel
trailer manufacturers design their coaches for spring, summer and fall
camping, not for freezing weather, parked far away from a reliable
electrical supply. By stretching my own limits a bit, I realized that
winter camping in the desert is gloriously fun, if different from warm
weather camping. Still, the rare opportunity to travel almost 1000
miles and camp in three different desert sub-climates was, for me, yet
another trip of a lifetime.
By James McGillis at 06:04 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link
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