Wheel(s) of Fortune
Journal Entry #49
April 15, 2023
You know the old adage, trouble comes in threes, right? Well, after cracking my head and nearly tumbling down a mountain, I knew number three would be waiting around an unexpected corner. For the moment, however, the trip was progressing as planned. We made our way to a dry camping area of Arizona off of route 89A near the Vermillion cliffs.
Actually, this particular public land camping had been on our bucket list during our journey last year, but at the time we passed through, temperatures were hovering around 103. We made the call to wave a white flag and stay in an air conditioned motel to escape the heat. This time, since we were arriving earlier in the year, we decided to try our luck again.
Using GPS we arrived at the old metal gate which opened onto the dirt track heading out towards the edge of the canyon. We slowly picked our way down the rocky path, taking care not to bottom out as we moved over dips and ruts. We drove to the very end of the track and pulled around a small stone fire pit not far from a foot trail which we could see meandering off toward the cliffs. We were completely alone- not another person or vehicle for miles and miles.
There was a notice at the beginning of the trail explaining that a rare type of cactus was growing on the footpath and that in order to protect them small stone circles had been placed around them. This path was so remote I couldn’t imagine that there would be foot traffic enough to harm them… or who would have been here to discover and protect them in the first place, but there was something lovely about the note and the botanists gesture to protect them. And lo-and-behold, we did see several of the little cacti surrounded by their rock walls. The trail ended at a cliff. 1000 feet below was the mighty Colorado river carving its way through the desert toward the Grand Canyon 70 miles south of us. It was late afternoon as we ambled along the cliff mesa edge and down through and over dry washes.
It’s hard to convey the sheer vastness of this place. All of the pictures flatten the space and dimensionality that the eye captures. It’s the same with the colors— dusty reds and golds and rusts and ochres, soft pale pinks and blues- rich hues changing as the light shifted around us.
We made our way back toward the small speck that was our van marveling at the imposing, desert peak backdrop behind it. Tom got out the ladder and we climbed up to watch the sun set. At first it looked as if it was going to be a muted, non-event. But the desert holds unexpected gifts. the waning light suddenly hit the undersides of clouds, creating glowing pink/purple wisps. The wind was picking up so we moved down from the roof but brought chairs outside to enjoy the display using the van as shelter from the wind.
We have had the great fortune to camp in many beautiful places, friends. But there was something magical about this spot that captured the essence of the “why” of vanlife, and of “slow travel” for us. It was one of those perfect days and evenings- that feeling of discovery, of wildness, of being immersed in a place so different from our “normal/daily” existence. The feeling of connectedness to outside space, to the earth in an elemental way. I imagine those who tent camp also feel this sense of intimacy with a place, noticing the details that you might miss just passing through. The van is our version of this experience. (Admittedly, with a more comfortable bed!)
But van life can also be a fickle friend, a frustrating changling. That night, as we slept, the wind rose… to howling gale levels. Our jacks steadied us but I still was startled awake from strange dreams that we were adrift like a boat, that somehow we were unanchored and that Tom had been blown off the roof trying to secure our Starlink mast. The next morning, the wind continued to roar. And a small rash that had taken residence on my back and shoulder the day before had spread. It began to itch with an intensity that was alarming and concerning. There it was. Mishap #3 presented itself.
Thankfully, our Starlink hadn’t blown away the night before. With tremendous gratitude to the miracle of technology, I was able to schedule a morning telemedicine call to my doctor in Ithaca from the middle of nowhere. He was able to call in several prescriptions to the Walmart in Page, Arizona, and by afternoon we had made the drive and them picked up. The hitch: one of the medications had to be applied head to toe and needed to remain on overnight before showering off. Also, a raging dust storm was underway in our area. After driving 2 hours through the swirling brown soup, we made another “white flag” bail out. We booked a motel on the edge of the sleepy town of Blanding, Utah to escape the road, for me to lather up, and to send Tom to the laundromat to wash everything. Medication on and laundry done, we retreated to the room and watched reruns of The Voice and Ice Road Truckers, ate salami sandwiches and crashed.
But the wheel of fortune smiled on us (or, perhaps took pity on us). The next day, the rash began to subside, the van was sparkly clean and the dust storm had settled. Bright blue skies appeared and we hit the road again, making our way north to Canyonlands. We had plans later in the week to visit Capitol Reef NP and then Arches NP. Both of these parks have reserved camping which we had booked several months earlier. But Canyonlands NP has NO reserved camping at all. Signs remind visitors there is no food, water or fuel in the entire park which is massive— 500+ square miles. There is only one campground in the Island of the Sky area of the park, with a whopping total of 12 campsites.
We knew it was a huge long shot but decided to drive in and see if we could score a slot. In our first loop around the campground the prognosis was not good. Every slot was occupied. We pulled into the handicapped site. National Parks generally have NO CELL signal at all. But thanks again to modern technology we set up our Starlink to make a call to the rangers office. We asked if there was any chance we could camp in the handicapped site. We have had some luck with this approach in state parks so we thought we would give it a shot, but we had low expectations. And, as anticipated, the ranger, though sympathetic, told us that they needed to hold the slot even though it was rarely used. With heavy sighs we made our way to the exit of the loop. We pulled slowly through. At the very last site, where we had seen a car in the slot on our last circle around, the car was gone, and the site was OPEN! It was only because we paused to make the call that the timing worked— we pulled up to the site likely mere minutes after the campers had left. And so we grabbed site 12 and registered ourselves for 3 nights.
Thank you, Lady Luck!
FYI, Blanding has a great VRBO/AirBnB option on the southern approach to town. A guy and his wife built 3 tiny home lofts on their property, really luxurious.
Wow. You are true pioneers. Great pictures and good writing.