The lighter side of life – staying in touch with friends and family by celebrating the ordinary.
Turns out I was pretty sad about pulling the boat out of the water last month. One of the biggest issues was the marina could not get our bill right; every month it was such a struggle. Plus, that marina gets really busy during the summer, and it just all seemed like too much. So we pulled it out and put it in storage, but what’s the use of a boat in storage in the desert?
So we’ve decided to try it again, with a different, much smaller marina. It’s quiet and peaceful out there, and hopefully we’ll manage to get out there some weekends this summer.
But oh, did we have a struggle getting it into the water! Typically we’d trailer it with the Jeep, but we wanted to spend the night in the camper van in the campground out there (the boat’s not quite set up yet for overnighting). The camper van is a big vehicle with excellent towing capacity, and actually tows better than the Jeep does. But the ramp at that marina was so gradual, that we could not, for the life of us, float that boat off the trailer without submerging the back of the van!
John backed the trailer into the water (I’m not very good at backing trailers long distances) and then we switched out drivers so John could wade into the water and guide the boat off the trailer. But it wouldn’t budge. He shoved and shoved. I backed it up another inch or two, and pretty soon the exhaust was blub-blub-blubbing in the water and I was terrified we were going to wreck my precious camper van! I frankly wouldn’t care if we dumped that old Jeep into the lake – we’ve been talking about buying a new 4Runner for at least 5 years. But not my camper van!
He told me to pull forward a little and then back quickly and suddenly brake hard, all the while keeping the rpm really high so the water stays out of the exhaust system, which involves giving it lots of gas and some clutch at the same time at just the right amount of each.
Uhhhh…I’m not a very coordinated person. I don’t usually get brakes and gas pedals and clutches confused, but I’m not usually backing a boat into a lake, with instructions that include “quickly” and “suddenly”. I tried a couple of times, but then I was just like – this is not my forte. The laws of physics have always been a bit non-intuitive for me. (Although after that experience, when the Mini Cooper dealership asked me if I was sure I could drive their manual transmission loaner vehicle while mine was being worked on, I was like, oh yeah, got that nailed.)
Anyway, John took a turn at the wheel and I waded into the water, holding the bow line (and occasionally ineffectively pushing on the boat) while he tried to jerk the boat off the trailer using the physics of momentum.
Pull forward, back fast, brake hard, jerk (blub, blub, rev, rev)…forward again, back fast, break hard, jerk! Each time I was afraid we were going to ruin the van or the boat or both. At first it didn’t seem like we were making any progress, but then I realized the boat had moved an inch. Pull forward, back fast, brake hard, jerk (blub, blub). Another inch, but still not budging. Again. Again. Again. The boat is now crooked on the trailer and had progressed a total of about one foot. John set the brake and got out to help me push. Push-push-nothing. Not floating, not budging. Ugh. Pull forward, back fast, brake hard, jerk! Again and again.
Finally the boat floated with a wild twist off the trailer, and I about couldn’t hold it with the bow line (when something is that heavy, any type of momentum is a lot, even at very low speeds). The boat slid backwards and sideways toward the near dock while the bow spun toward the opposite dock. At first I thought it was heading toward the opposite dock, but then I suddenly realized that although it had spun toward the opposite dock, it was actually moving backwards. I was going to be caught between a moving boat and a dock (not a good place to be), but I didn’t have time to get up onto the dock to fend it off. I managed to jerk the bow in the direction of the dock, which was counter intuitive because I was trying not to hit the dock (and me), but it slowed the spin and brought the boat under control. (John missed all that because he was driving the trailer back up the ramp.)
The boat is now safely in the new slip.
We took it out on the water briefly, but we didn’t actually sail it; we didn’t have time to get the mast and sails set up, which is a big process. We just motored for a bit.
Then coming back in, the outboard motor died, twice. You have no control over a moving boat when you have no motor, because the outboard is what provides steerage. We nearly hit the boat in the slip next to ours. I had to leap out onto the end of the bow to fend off. The same exact thing happened when we were trying to dock it last time when we were pulling it out of the water, and we almost hit a boat tied to the dock, and a couple people on the dock had to help us guide it in.
So that’s it, I am not tolerant of an undependable outboard. (Remind me someday to tell you about Alaska, OMG.) So I’m not going out on that boat again until we do something about the outboard situation. John wants to set up a second outboard, an electric motor for trolling (going slowly dragging a fishing line). That sounds great to me. I can’t abide the noise and smell of the gas motors anyway. Of course the electric trolling motors are limited in speed and distance if you’re actually trying to get somewhere. But it’s a sailboat; we can sail!
I have no idea when we’re actually going to have time to purchase and install another outboard. But meanwhile I can at least be happy that we do, in theory, have a boat on the water.
I called it a rescue mission, but in this case, we were rescuing the boat (not being rescued by a boat). Actually it wasn’t so much a case of rescuing the boat, as it was a case of rescuing our pocketbook.
Ever since I was young, I’ve dreamed of having a small boat in a slip, in the water (which is very different from having a boat hanging around on dry land somewhere). I grew up in the Pacific Northwest where the boat hierarchy went something like this:
Poor folk: boat rotting in front yard
Not as poor: boat rotting in side alley
Hippie: boat rotting in backyard and kids using it as a fort
Retiree: boat rotting under carport in back
Struggling Yuppie: boat in dry dock somewhere inconvenient
I was going to have a boat in a slip like the rich people. Finally, 2017 was going to be the year.
Sometime mid-summer last year, John and Monica struggled against high winds and waves to secure the boat in its very own covered slip in a marina on Navajo Lake. So convenient, already in the water waiting to be used! So wonderful to have a boat in the desert! So enticing! What fun!
We thought it would be convenient, already in the water like that. We thought we’d spend many fine weekends sailing around on our cute little sailboat. And then I got a job and then winter came and then we moved and now we’re remodeling two houses instead of one. And it’s a good weekend if I have time to get groceries, much less make use of a boat.
Guess how many times we used it? Sigh, that wasn’t even a hard question. No, no we did not use it. Not even once. So now it’s in a storage yard.
At least we were able to go and get it on a pretty day.
First we picked up the trailer.
Then to find the boat.
Where the heck is it? You would think there would be some sort of coherent numbering system, but no.
Ah, there it is!
Why are there rocks on it? Oh, those aren’t rocks? That’s bird poop?!?
We motored over to the dock.
Then we waited forever for these guys, who didn’t seem to realize you don’t mess around getting all your stuff stowed while monopolizing the boat ramp. You do that off to the side ahead of time. I stood there and glared at them for awhile. I don’t think they noticed. It’s hard to see in the photo, but John was at the top of the ramp idling the Jeep, waiting for them to finish so he could back the trailer down. I guess they didn’t notice that either. He eventually turned off the engine and just sat there for some time.
Here we go, boat, onto the trailer.
I’m glad John’s in that freezing water and not me.
I’m useless at this point. I don’t know how to drive boats or back trailers. I could have hopped in the water to share the pain, but he said not to bother.
I was really wishing we could go sailing just once before taking it out of the water. But we wanted to get it loaded before the winds picked up that afternoon. And we had a lot more to do that weekend.
It was such a shallow ramp I thought the Jeep was going to flood.
It was both too tall, and too long, to fit straight into the storage space. John expertly wedged it in there at an angle.
It was sad to bring the boat in! But one more chore done. Next it needs a thorough cleaning. And then, I don’t know.
This is a little-known but truly amazing area near Farmington, NM, which is about 4 hours from us. We went out there the weekend before we closed on the new house in Santa Fe.
We took a short hike in the evening on the day we arrived.
I was taking last minute calls from my real estate agent. Can you believe I had cell tower out here? Everything had to be done before the weekend, because we were closing on Monday morning. Real estate agents work all weekend, but title companies don’t.
The red rocks on the gray sand in the evening light.
Well, it beats carving in tree bark.
We stayed the night in the camper van, and then we went on a long hike the next day. Here I am the next morning, going up, up and up, with my little doggie duckings behind me.
Oh no, now I’ve got to get back down again! John says, “Here we can get down here.” Uhh…are you freaking kidding me? You want me to go down there?
I can’t get down this! I was terrified. John had to come back up and lead me down.
We made it! I’m alive! I’m just going to sit here and drink my green tea with my puppy until my pulse returns to something like normal.
Not your ordinary lawn sculptures.
Wow, this is fantastic!
Surreal.
That log on the rock behind the dogs is not wood. It’s completely petrified. It’s just stone.
Here’s some more petrified wood. It’s amazing, it’s not wood, it’s stone.
It’s hard to believe, but it’s all rock.
Here’s the petrified log in the foreground, and in the background is the ridge John climbed. Yes, seriously, he climbed to the top of that. 
There he is, do you see him there on the top waving his arms? He’s a crazy bastard.
Here’s a picture of me and the dogs that he took from the top.
More amazing scenery.
Aww, she’s so cute!
John’s sorta cute too. 
How does that rock even stay up like that?
Here’s another rock. 
Hey, you said it, not me. I’m just taking pictures of rocks.
Two houses means two toasters. And two of everything else. Two sets of guest towels, two brooms, two alarm clocks, two cookie sheets, two coffee grinders, two bathroom trash cans, two vegetable brushes (ok, maybe I don’t really need a vegetable brush at both houses).
Plus, there are a few items that I want a third for my office, for example, an ergonomic mouse for my computer, and a heating pad for my chair. And there are also a few items where I like one style and John likes another style. So we’ve got two of those (one for each of us) plus a third for Sante Fe.
Oh, and we can’t forget the camper van! It would be far too difficult to remember and pack everything we need for the van, so we have duplicates of some things that stay in the van. Dishes, pans, silverware, spices, bedding, cleaning supplies, USB outlets, power cords, etc.
And then there are the items that we think we probably already own but can’t for the life of us find, so we’re just going to buy another. Or three.
I have 3 identical thermoses. One to take my coffee to work in the morning. Another to take my green tea into work in the morning. Another for my green tea in Placitas. “What about my coffee in Placitas?” Right? Am I right? See, it’s never ending.
When John and I die, and our kids are going through our stuff, they’re going to be like, “Why do they have 5 identical everything?!?” Poor old folks, losing their minds.
Our townhome purchase isn’t sorted yet, but there was nothing we could do about it over the holiday weekend, so we went camping! We took the dogs and the van and went to see the fall color in the Pecos Mountains. It was gorgeous!
Doesn’t John look happy. Awww, he loves his dog!
The first area we went to on Saturday was really beautiful, but it turns out there were a lot of summer homes in the area, so nowhere really to camp. So we drove to another section that was more remote, and there was lots of good places to park a van for the night.
On Sunday we went on a really long hike. It was steep, and high elevation, and I had a bit of a migraine, so it was a challenge. It was beautiful though, and I’m glad we did it.
We made it to the overlook. Whew!
Obviously you aren’t all as fascinated by our new compositing toilet as I am, but a few of you have shown a bit of curiosity. So read on! (It’s not too gross, I promise.)
We bought a new-used camper van that came with a sink, single bed, and 2 big solar panels. We’ve added an air conditioner, microwave, cooler, (it’s amazing what you can power with two big solar panels) and we’ve also added a wider bed and a bunch of other things including a composting toilet. The toilet is fantastic.
Here’s how it works. There is a front container that holds the pee, and the back part, where the poop goes, takes peat moss or similar. I use coconut coir (the shredded outside husks of coconuts), because I read online that it works better than peat moss and doesn’t have the little plant gnats that peat moss sometimes has.
Coconut coir comes in compressed bricks that are too hard to break apart by hand. You have to put them in water to get them loosened up. Then you break it apart, fluff it up, and let it dry again.
The toilet also has a fan and an air vent.
The fan runs continuously (on solar power) but you can hardly hear the fan unless you’ve got your ear right next to it. John vented it out the wheel well, so you can’t even see the vent from the outside. (He’s clever like that.) 
When you sit on it, there’s two little holes toward the front for the pee, which goes into a container that can be easily removed and dumped.
The pee container holds a lot, so only needs dumped every few days (unless you’re having a camper van party with lots of friends drinking lots of beer).
The first time we used the van this spring, we only used the pee part, and were too chicken-shit to use the poo part. But on these recent two trips, the time came and we went for it. There’s a lever that opens up the back part.
Then when you’re done, you close back up the opening, and you turn this little crank on the side, and a bar inside mixes it all up.
Does it stink? No. We totally couldn’t smell it the whole trip. (Except, obviously, right when someone is using it, hello, there’s nothing you can do about that.) And the pee bucket stinks at the time that you’re dumping it. But the toilet does not stink. It’s amazing.
You may be wondering where the toilet paper goes. You could put it in with the coconut coir. We put it in a separate, sealed container. John and I are experienced backpackers, so we’re used to packing out all our used toilet paper. So it’s not an issue for us. (I hate it when casual hikers just leave paper on the ground, seriously, OMG PACK IT OUT! No one wants to see that! I hate paper-scatterers in the woods. Ugh!)
Ok, sorry, I’ll get off my soapbox and tell you more about the van.
We used the compositing toilet for the week in Idaho to see the eclipse, and then the camping trip in the Gila wilderness over the labor day weekend. Then we decided we ought to clean the poop out (even though it still didn’t stink). I got nominated for the task. Because I love this toilet! And I’m the one who uses it the most.
Here I am, cleaning out the toilet. First I unbolted it and set it outside.
Then (drumroll) I opened it up and peeked inside. (Warning, poo pics!) Here you can see the used coconut coir, and the mixing bar.
Can you believe it still didn’t stink? Now you don’t believe me. Seriously! It just smelled very slightly of potting soil. Like plant dirt, guys!
The coconut coir bricks come in different sizes. I buy little ones and use 2 of them, but it’s just a guessing game. Too much coconut coir and it’s hard to turn the crank that turns the inside bar. Not enough and maybe you wouldn’t have such a pleasant ratio of poop to coir. LOL.
Next I put a bag over it and turned it upside down.
And into the bag it went!
This was a total BREEZE compared to, say, poop scooping the backyard after 3 little dogs. Or kitty litter (eww). Or poopy baby diapers, or doggy puke, or (ok, ok, you get the point). This was nothing! Easy!
John has better photos of the eclipse that I will post when he gets them to me. But meanwhile, here are mine.
Here we are getting ready for it to start.
Darren wore his “Keep out of direct sunlight” shirt for the occasion LOL
Ugh that beard, I know, I hate it! But he’s fully employed (meaning, no longer interviewing) so he can wear it however he wants now!
You can see behind John that we did have some smoke in the area from wildfires throughout Idaho.
It’s starting!
It’s getting darker and the temperature is rapidly dropping…
Wow! It actually got dark!
OMG!
Stars even came out! I didn’t believe it when John told me they would.
Look, it’s beautiful.
I haven’t been told to “move along” by a cop since I was a teenager necking in a car parked at a roller skating rink in Oregon. (Roller skating? Yeah, it was a long time ago. I am THAT old.)
How did this come about? We have a new camper van! It’s an amazing camper van full of modern conveniences. But it does seem to put us in a certain fringe category that we don’t usually fall into. And it didn’t help that we were in Salt Lake County. But let me start at the beginning of the story.
A full day’s drive northwest from Placitas toward Idaho puts one at about Salt Lake City. So I identified a campground in the mountains east of the city and we headed there. But we had hardly started up the forest road when we encountered a huge sign saying the road was going to be closed the next morning for construction! Not wanting to get trapped, we turned around and drove north to the next road going into the mountains.
By this time it was pitch black, past our bedtime, and the forest road was narrow and curvy. We decided to pull off in a large parking and turnaround area, where other cars were also parked for the night. We assembled our bed (first night in the van!) and fell sound asleep.
At around midnight, there was a sudden, loud knocking on our van door and a holler of “Police!” We were startled awake and confused. I remember saying, “Don’t open it unless you know it’s really the police.” And John replying, “I can see his badge.”
The front seat was full of luggage (that had been in the back of the van), so I have a hilarious memory of John laying on his stomach on a pile of luggage, trying to get the window down to talk with the officer!
Apparently there is no overnight camping within the Salt Lake watershed and he was clearing out everyone who was staying along the road that night. He helpfully gave us directions out of the county (run out of the county by the police!) but the county line was well out of our way to the east. So instead, we decided to turn around and go back to the freeway and just keep driving north.
So for 3 hours in the middle of the night we drove north without a clear idea what to do next. But John remembered that his brother had told him that in a pinch, Walmart allows overnight parking for RV’s along the back edges of their large parking lots. So around 3:00 or 3:30 AM we pulled off and parked at the Walmart in Pocatello, Idaho, amidst a number of other vans and RV’s. We fell promptly asleep.
Luckily we didn’t sleep in because at 8:30 AM, Walmart security rapped on our van and apologetically asked us to move along, saying that overnight parking was not being allowed during the eclipse travel period.
Ironically, when the security guy came by, John was in Walmart buying stuff. It had been a long, hard night. So must buy stuff!
Our camper van is my favorite possession! I’ve wanted one for many years. Finally, last year on my 50th birthday, John gave me a little toy van with a promise for a real one soon.
After a nation-wide hunt, he found the perfect van. It’s a 2012 Nissan cargo van, with a high roof – it’s 6 foot high, tall enough for us to easily stand up in it. The previous owner had already started the process of converting it to a camper van.
Most importantly, the previous owner had installed 2 large solar panels on the roof and a large pack of batteries under the bed.
The solar panels provide a generous amount of power to run things while the van is parked.
For example, in addition to charging our phones and laptops, we can run lights, an electric cooler, a microwave, an electric hot plate, an electric blanket and even an air conditioner – all while parked with the engine off.
The cooler (for refrigeration of food) runs constantly. The other appliances we turn on as needed. So far we’ve not had any issues with running out of power, although we haven’t needed the air conditioner yet.
The previous owner also installed a ceiling vent and fan, a sink and counter on one side, and a narrow bed on the other side.
John has since significantly expanded the width of the bed with a fold-down section (pictured) and a removable section (not pictured). When assembled, it takes up all the remaining space in the van and sleeps two quite comfortably. When folded down, it reverts to a seating bench. John has also added a significant amount of storage space and has plans for more.
We have also installed a composting toilet, which is a wonderful thing to have. No more searching for non-existent rest stops in middle of no-where New Mexico (and no-where Arizona, and no-where Utah, and all the other unpopulated areas we like to go). No more shitting in the woods in a hailstorm or mosquito swarm. For those of you who don’t backpack, let me tell you, an indoor toilet is one of the greatest inventions of humanity (that and painkillers). Here’s a photo; the toilet is installed at the very back of the van, at the foot of the bed. And the amazing thing? It does not stink!! (By the end of the week our garbage stunk, and the dog stunk, and we probably stunk, but the toilet didn’t!)
Future upgrades we have planned for the van include more storage racks bolted to the walls, larger tires for more clearance when on forest roads, and improved lighting.
Playing “My van is better than your van” on the freeway 😝
I told John that our van may well mark the end of my backpacking days. He laughed. But seriously, why trudge for miles at a snail’s pace with 40 lbs on your back only to sit trapped in a hailstorm in a tent, when you could day-hike with a light pack much farther, and then return to sit out the hailstorm in the comforts of your tiny home? (If you’re wondering why do any of it at all, I can’t help you there. Perhaps it’s an acquired taste.)
What, you think I’m exaggerating about the hail? Well, don’t forget it also comes with thunder and lightening.
Outrunning the lightening in Utah, June 2015:
2 full days trapped in a small tent during almost unrelenting rain, hail, thunder and lightening, Utah, June 2016:
Waiting out the hail and lightening under a rock ledge in New Mexico, May 2017: (He shouldn’t look that happy, right?)
Waiting out the hail under a rock ledge in Colorado, August 2017: (He’s not looking as happy this time.)
Luckily that time we had a van to go back to!