Indecision about Long-Term Camping

Just this morning as I was walking Banjo along the desert road, looking for burros and enjoying the peaceful sunrise, I had decided that this Imperial Dam LTVA is a smart place for us to stay put for a while. An hour later, inside the trailer when Tracy says he may have found us a campsite near the beach in Mexico, I’m like, “Okay, yeah, let’s go for it!”

The nomad’s mind is fickle, apparently.

I’ve been over the pros and cons of this long-term camping area several times in previous posts. We’re still digging some of the benefits, so much so that we bought a long-term pass instead of continuing to re-up our two-week one.

It’s extremely relaxing not to have to plan, pack, move, every week—it really is. We’re so spread out at our campsite that, when we hitched up a few days ago to tow the trailer to the dump station down the way, we just put our breakable stuff in the tent and left everything all spread out outside, then, after pulling away and dumping, we pulled back up exactly in our parking space, unhitched, and were good to stay again without any of the usual hassle.

If you’re going to stay long-term somewhere without full hookups, this really is the perfect place.

Oh, but the weather.

Last Christmas when we were near Naples, Florida had the coldest Christmas in its history, I believe. I mean, we sat outside for a celebratory meal with our neighbor, but we wore actual clothes (no bathing suits), with jackets even.

This winter the country is experiencing record highs everywhere, everywhere but here. It’s been in the 60s here but with high winds, which totally dictates whether you want to be outside.

Here Tracy’s enjoying his Christmas special beer in the tent (Tom, did he tell you it was oh so delicious?), but that was a rare tent moment. Mostly we’ve been inside, cooking (woohoo pie!),

and playing games.

Everyone keeps talking about how life will change when the weather gets back to normal, but when will that be? After two shockingly cold yoga sessions on the concrete pad that serves as our studio here, I decided not to go to class unless it’s above 55 in the morning, and my weather app ain’t showing that happening for as far out as it’ll predict.

It’s too windy for us to put out sugar water for this poor hummingbird who keeps trying to eat from my Christmas tree.

It’s too windy for me to sit outside Tyll’s camper for conversation and ukulele lessons and playing.

It’s too windy for me to ride my bike to the dumpsters; I have to walk (but I get to see stuff like this while walking):

I’ve decided to nix Spanish class as well, actually because it is indoors and few people wear masks.

So, the social benefits here are diminishing.

We could stay here and keep relaxing, buying stuff on Amazon and sitting in the trailer playing with it. (For Christmas I gave Tracy a card game where you build your brewery with staff and equipment, then gain reputation points by brewing types of beer with various ingredient cards. I think this would make an excellent board game if we expanded it and am tempted to do so with the leftover cardboard boxes I’ve been saving. Creating a board game sounds like an appropriate challenge for us.)

But really. That, or swim in the ocean in Mexico.

Which would you choose?

Stay tuned; We haven’t heard about the campsite and may not.

Ukulele Segment

My neighbor Tyll strung the G string on my uke so it’s an octave lower (say he and Finn), so I’m trying out songs I especially am challenged singing to see if somehow this makes a difference. I still am especially challenged. But, hey, Banjo’s in this one, and if you fast-forward, she’ll actually move.