As I rolled into Reno, Nevada, I realized how much I missed the desert. It’s strange. It’s a wasteland, yes, but it’s warm and dry, two things that are the opposite of New England where I lived most of my life. Don’t get me wrong, by the end of winter I’m missing green and trees, which is why I enjoy visiting Oregon in the spring and summer. But now, I’m getting a similar sensation as I roll back into the desert for the colder months. It doesn’t quite feel like I’m home. Nowhere feels that way at this point. But after spending two enjoyable winters in the desert, it’s a good feeling to be back, especially since I’m running away from colder weather up north.
Gas in Reno was certainly less expensive than in California, but the cheapest I could find was still $4.90/gallon. Clearly, the border towns and counties are price gouging, knowing that they can get away with it because California’s prices are even worse. I ended up having a pleasant conversation with someone who recognized that I was driving a camper van and was interested in knowing more about it. Then I continued down the road.
Then I got another reminder that I was back in the desert. The wind picked up and started blowing me all over the road. I got off the highway and onto back roads, mainly to keep my speed down without becoming a moving roadblock like I was in California. Google took care of me (sort of — it also told me to make wrong turns, then get back on the road I was already on a few times), and I rolled into Gardnerville. I came here, in particular, to meet Michelle, a friend I made at The Lit Cactus during my first winter in Quartzsite. I overheard her talking about problems with her Kawasaki dirt bike, which naturally caught my attention, and we’ve been friends ever since. She’s settled down here with her family, and to start her own massage business. Although the Walmart in Gardnerville doesn’t allow overnight parking, we met there to start our evening together.
I’m usually good about remembering the places I go, but I was so into catching up with Michelle that I completely forgot to make a note of it. Here we are, not making an obscene gesture, but the sign of The Lit Cactus, where we met. It looks a little bit like a cactus if you use your imagination. I do remember having an excellent brisket sandwich and an Angry Wookiee brown ale.
We left as it got dark, and I followed her out to some BLM land near where she grew up. It’s an OHV area, and where she learned to ride a dirt bike, so she knows it extremely well. I was looking forward to doing some riding there myself.
I typically like to find a place to spend the night before dark, but that’s getting more difficult as the sun goes down earlier. Fortunately, I had a local guide. I hopped in her Jeep, and we scouted out a few possibilities. Then I got back in the van, and she led me back to the spot I picked out. We spent a couple of hours chatting some more before she went home for the night. As with Kristi, it’s always great to catch up with a fellow nomad, especially somewhere outside of our winter homes in Arizona. No matter how accepting someone is of this lifestyle, there’s nothing quite like hanging out with someone else who has lived it as well, and truly understands what it’s like from experience.
I woke up to thunder and rain on the roof at about 2:00 a.m. My first half-asleep thought was worry that I was going to get stuck. Then I remembered that I was in the desert, which dries out extremely quickly. Sure enough, it was bone dry by daylight. This was a good thing because the daylight revealed a “no camping” sign right next to where I’d just spent the night, but far enough away that we couldn’t read it in the dark. Whoops! I’d gotten away with it, but I knew I had to move before the locals came by and got cranky about it.
I found a spot on iOverlander a few miles south of town that looked promising. It was on BLM land and camping was allowed. I drove there, hung around a bit, but something didn’t feel right. The nearby mountains were shrouded in clouds, some of which were dropping rain. One of the commenters on iOverlander had mentioned getting stuck where I was parked when it rained. No sooner than I’d set up, I decided I needed to get back to the pavement, so that’s exactly what I did. The rain started as soon as I’d left. Trust your gut!
My gut was also telling me that between the trouble I was having finding suitable parking in the area, and a predicted low of 31Âş overnight, it would be best for me to move on down the road. I didn’t want to. I was looking forward to a bike ride around the various dirt roads in the area as well as Lake Tahoe, not to mention hanging out with Michelle for a few more nights. But the cards just weren’t lining up, especially the weather. Fortunately, Michelle completely understood, and suggested Hawthorne as a place where I might have better luck. I’d already found some places to stay there, and verified a low temperature of 45Âş overnight, much better than below freezing.
I took a convoluted series of roads to head east toward Hawthorne, winding between the mountains. The long straightaways and rolling hills took a sudden turn through Wilson Canyon, which Route 208 cuts right through. The high cliffs and driving right next to the water were both scenic and fun, a welcome break from the wide open spaces.
Soon afterward, I got stuck in yet another 20-minute stop to get through a construction zone. This is becoming an annoying habit. I even had time to leave the driver’s seat and go get some donuts from the back to snack on. Finally, the worst pilot car I’ve ever seen led us through the long construction area. The speed seemed completely random, varying anywhere between 30 and 60 mph with no rhyme or reason. Then we slowed all the way down to a walking pace past the one and only active construction zone in the entire long section that was shut down. Once we finally got out of the construction zone, a huge clump of traffic was all backed up together, and the lead cars drove well below the speed limit, leading to even more unsafe passing than I saw yesterday in California. It’s worth saying again — there has to be a better way.
I turned onto US 95A and was greeted by a wall of rain in the distance. The road took me toward it, and then through it. Though I was stuck going much slower than I wanted to, I wasn’t going to be doing any passing in these conditions, especially with drivers behind me thinking they were qualifying for NASCAR screaming up behind us. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before we joined US 95 — the same road I spend the winter just off of in Quartzsite, Arizona — and we started driving along Walker Lake. I was relieved to take the turn into Tamarack Beach, a free BLM camping area about 20 minutes north of Hawthorne.
I moved around a couple of times before I found a spot I really liked, one of the few pull-through spots in the place. It’s a slightly longer walk to the pit toilet, but it’s worth it to have the passenger side of my van facing the lake, giving me a beautiful view while I sit in the swiveled passenger seat and work.
Lister also approves of this campsite. This is just one of a few rocks he can climb on top of and gaze across his domain.
Despite camping right next to a lake for the first time since I got my kayak, I will not be going paddling. For one thing, it’s too cold for me to be on the water. But the more important factor is this sign, warning us about unexploded munitions on the south shore of the lake! I looked up the story, and apparently, there was a munitions depot on the south shore in the past that shot at targets in the lake. Anything that didn’t explode sank harmlessly to the bottom. Unfortunately, 90% of Walker Lake has disappeared over the past 100 years, exposing the unexploded munitions. This is another story of excessive irrigation pulling too much water out of the river, allowing the lake to evaporate instead of being refilled. There are also high levels of contaminants in the water, similar to the Salton Sea, so I don’t want to go in there.
It’s still pretty to look at, though, especially as a faint rainbow formed over the lake late in the afternoon. The weather changes rapidly and randomly here. I lost count of how many times it’s gone from warm and sunny to cool and rainy. Fortunately, I’m in a campsite, and unlikely to get stuck even if it’s raining when I’m leaving.
Speaking of which, I think I’ll take a day off the road. The long drives this week, plus an unexpected early start yesterday have put me a little bit behind on work. I can easily catch up on work during a day I’m not driving, and since this is a free BLM campground, I’m definitely allowed to be here. It’s not as warm as I’d like, but certainly better than up north. Then on Saturday, when I’m not working, I can make the 4.5-hour drive all the way to Pahrump, somewhere I know and have stayed before, and that will be warm, even at night. I can settle into some BLM land just outside town and relax a bit. I could even tackle another van project or two since there’s a Home Depot about a mile down the road from where I camp.
Smokey Da Van 