Travels with Chris

By Cate Mueller

The Adventure Begins -

Welcome (?) to Quartzsite

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We were not ready to leave on our RV adventure. Even after months of selling our belongings there were still boxes of stuff to sort; store, sell or sh!tcan. We fled the farm anyway and hid in the backyard of some friends near Fresno while we finished dissolving our estate. It rained constantly but we were overjoyed to be away from psycho-ville. We didn't even mind the mud – or the free-range livestock issues.

   I knew I was dragging my feet. Becoming homeless held the appeal of cliff diving at low tide. I sang “I’m On My Way” from Paint Your Wagon trying to bolster my courage.

   One day our friends came to us and said, “It’s time. Go! You will like Quartzsite.”

   We went out that night to celebrate my 40th birthday and made plans to set sail the next day.

   We packed away our soggy belongings and finally there was nothing left to do but go. The adventure begins! We corralled our critters and timidly crept forth into the world.

   Doc drove our truck-and-trailer and I followed in our van. We left Fresno on a Friday afternoon, terrified and bawling (okay, that was just me), drove south on Highway 99 to Bakersfield, turned left and headed up the hill to Mojave.

   Odd, I never realized how steep the Tehachapi Mountains are. I had plenty of time to ponder this as I slowly followed the long-long-long trailer uphill.

   We spent our first night as a homeless family parked on a side street in Mojave. As we settled in we realized a cattle truck had previously occupied that spot.

   It took all day Saturday to reach Vidal Junction and we hunkered down on the side of some dark highway for a cold, windy night.

   Sunday we gingerly wound our way down the California side of Highway 95 then crossed into Arizona over the Colorado River east of Blythe. The landscape changed instantly from cultivated green farms to naked craggy brown desert peaks. Fifteen miles later we crested a range and the landscape changed again, just as instantly.

   The desert basin below us was a sea of white. As we drove closer we realized it was not snow – thank God! – but white tarps on hundreds of vendor booths, white aluminum on thousands of RVs, white Kool Kover shelters and as we pulled off Interstate 10 we saw herds of white-haired people walking around browsing.

   So this is Quartzsite!

   We pulled into an RV park on Main Street and I went into the office. It was crowded with more white-headed people, all with a similar hairstyle; curly and short, like poodles. Perhaps it was a club.

   A lady behind the counter helped all the poodle-heads and a few more who came in after me. Finally it was my turn and I stepped up to the counter.

   The lady gave me a dirty look and turned away.

   I shuffled my feet and waited. I cleared my throat and waited some more. Finally I said, “Excuse me, ma’am?”

   The lady turned toward me and scowled.

   “Um, how much is it to stay here?”

   “You can’t stay here,” she non-answered and turned away again.

   What the…? “Excuse me?” I tried again.

   “WHAT!” She whipped around and snapped, “You’ll have to leave.”

   “What?” My jaw dropped.

   “This is a fifty-five plus park,” she said.

   ‘Fifty-five’…? The speed limit? I rocked back on my heels and glanced out the window. Way too fast for these dinky little RV park streets. It made no sense. I started to ask, but the white-haired lady whipped her arm at the door, simultaneously snapping her fingers and pointing.

   “Out!” she barked.

   Out I went. Jeez, welcome to Quartzsite.

Doc found Quartzsite’s 11,400 acres of desert camping areas and talked me into trying dry camping. We hunkered down in the sand, cracked open some congratulatory beverages and complimented ourselves on being out of harm’s way.

   “Isn't this great, Doc? There’s not a soul in the world who knows where we are.”

   Doc took a seep breath and smiled. “No more Garrry, no more getting shot at.”

   BAM BAM BAM!

   Beer spilled. What the heck could be pounding on the trailer?

   I peeked out the window, cringing, and there stood our Fresno friends.

   “Howdy! How y’all doing? Like it so far?” they hooted.

   I was stunned. “When did you leave Fresno?”

   “This morning. We thought we’d make sure you’re okay.”  

   “It took you part of one day to get here? It took us three!”