The Hazards of Piddling

I'm 4.5 miles south of I-8 and the road, all along the way, is CAMPED UP! Everyone has 1,000 acres, but every space is taken.

It was almost dark when I got to a BLM road. I fired up the GPS to note the location on the laptop. Climbing back into the cab, I noticed a light. I couldn't guage the distance, but drove ahead, thinking to find a place beyond them. 

Almost immediately I discovered they were only a few hundred feet ahead. I went past but after about 1,000 feet, there was an impassable wash. Fortunately, the road took a sharp dip just before. By now it was completely dark and I was exhausted. I made camp. I'm too close for proper etiquette, but we can't see each other...I just hope they don't have a dog.

Sheesh! Two years ago no one was out here. 

I got going today at 4:00 pm, so had an hour and a half to drive which, for me, translates to 45 minutes. I stopped in Gila Bend to get water and drove the remaining half hour (with the sun above the horizon) to the exit. I drove into four possible sites before finally settling here. The first two were still too noisy and the others were taken....with vehicles hidden by vegetation until I got close.

In one of Michael Pollan's books he interviewed an Idaho potato farmer. The family had a garden where they grew theirs. The farmer said they wouldn't eat the ones grown for commercial sale...too many chemicals 

I was surprised by how much cleaner the organics were. The rinse water for the regulars was muddy, but the water for these was so clean I used it to rinse dishes.

I started to call it PIGS!....

but didn't want to malign an animal that's supposedly capable of innumerable orgasms and purportedly smarter than horses.

The PARKING AREA is on the eastbound side of Interstate 8 between Gila Bend and Tucson. The tarmac is sticky (urine? ju-ju bees?) and the smell was so strong I stopped to rinse the soles of my boots.

A statement about lack of services?

Driving through Canada in 2010 it was always a pleasant surprise to see a porta-potty and trash can in a remote place. At one large pullout there was a garbage can but no toilet. Next to the dumpster someone had left a large turd. Given the cleanliness of the ones I used, I interpreted the placement, out in the open and impossible to miss, as a comment on the lack of facilities. 

And after traveling to Palmer, Alaska and then back through the Yukon again, I decided the Canadian sense of humor is, in general, FAR more sophisticated than Americans'. 

KEYSTONE: neatly packaged

But you can tell by the careful packaging above, we're trying.

2, December, 2021 -  7:30 am Arizona Time

Today I emailed the Arizona Department of Transportation and left messages at the offices of Representatives Paul Gosar, Greg Stanton and spoke with one of Representative Lesko's staff. Hopefully, SOMEONE can do something.

Painted Rock Petroglyph Site, Arizona

Westbound on interstate 8 halfway between Tuscon and Yuma....the lingering light of dusk all but gone.

Night's descent while on a freeway is a REAL medium (source) of annoyance; campsites, difficult enough to spot while navigating a two-lane become totally chimeric on four-with-median.

SUDDENLY!!! Eggbert's headlights ricocheted off a sign: Painted Rock Petroglyph Site...twelve miles. Twelve miles would, I figured, be far enough from DER FREEWAY to provide some quiet. Hah!...you  seein' flyin' pigs agin, bro?

10:00 p.m. ---  the last of the OHVs trundle in.

For those that enjoy white noise there's a hum. It waxes and wanes - think inorganic beach waves.....all night long and still strong when I left the next morn at 11:59.

Around 6:00 a.m. the whitenoise was joined by the moanings of a large piece of equipment, perhaps an earthmover. This was so invasive the grizzly herd that had gathered to enjoy the odoriferous delights of my breakfast bacon fled.

After completing my ablutions I trod the trail. The diminutive hill is heavily signed with admonishments to: STAY ON THE TRAIL!!! 

Someone had thrown a bag of hamburger buns into the NO WALK zone. I watched in unfettered awe as a privatized (it's the latest fad, dontchya know?) skyhook lowered a mountaineer who, without touching the ground, neatly plucked and dropped it into the industrial size, overflowing with McDonald's wrappers, waste bin.

Ah, the amenities of a campground! Small satisfaction comes in knowing the NSA probly got the perps throwing the buns on vid and has them doin' 10 years tuh life fellating cattle.

It's an amazing site!!

Speaking of campgrounds, they charge (money) to camp in the squalid BLM area that encompasses the site ($10.00? - I forget). Placed among widely spaced creosote bushes are picnic-tables-with-fire-ring. In the distance two, count 'em, separate installations of pit toilets grace the skyline.

There is a small area of non-billable BLM land on the left just before the campground (watch for the electrical relay station), but the rest of the surrounding property is Tohono O'Odham reservation.

But hey!! Tha's wha' happenz when yer out on the freeway at dark.

On a historic note the campground signs say the Gila River used to flow nearby. In them daiz thar wuz hundreds, maybe thousands of people and birds, beavers, deer and elk, foxes, otters (excerpted from the sign...not made up) grizzlies and goddess only knows what else roamed the land. Ah bet thar wuz probly even Pass'ng'r Pijjins an' Dodos. Well now, rest reassured you'll have my sympathy as you try to ignore the noise and reek of fertilizer. Ah, the fruits of Manifest Destiny.

Mebbe, like for me, the rock art'll save yuh from suiciding.