Trailer Trash Mama (Again!)

We women need a bit of space and privacy to tend to things that men have no need (or wish) to know about.  You know what I’m talking about - it involves body hair, wax, tweezers, depilatories, razors, dyes, rinses, masks, exfoliation and usually a cruel and ruthless magnifying mirror. We also need time in which to deploy these things.  And space.  Did I mention space already? And privacy? Somehow I neglected to pack the magnifying mirror and kept forgetting to buy a new one.  But there is a mirror in our tiny bathroom and even if the light is harsh it’s good enough to put on some eyebrows and cover up the spots which is all I seem to have time for these days anyway. When I stabbed not only Dan but  myself  with my toenails one night I realized I’d probably let things go a bit.  My legs and feet looked like a hobbit’s, (my armpits were apparently quite fashionable now), my skin was positively scaley.  Enough was enough. I decided it was time to  Make A Bit Of An Effort . I bought a 10x

Utah This was the title of my blog post for Arches National Park on the First Trailer Trash Mama blog back in 2010.  I have to say, after Kodachrome Basin State Park I thought there might be a tie, but Arches wins by a head for sheer scale.   This is called the Garden Of Eden - why Eve bothered with apples is beyond me. I certainly found it just as, er, exhilarating as the first time - and Dan did too.  Happy memories and a few new ones to boot. Arches is a hard act to follow. (settle down)  Canyonlands is the final park in Utah’s Mighty Five and is located more or less opposite Arches.  Where Arches is all thrusting spires, Canyonlands spreads out to the horizon in a series of deep, dramatic gashes carved by the Green and Colorado Rivers.  A whole lot of spectacular in a different kind of way.  We are 2,000feet above the plain - see the dirt road on the right? Close up from photo below. We camped at the disturbingly named Dead Horse Point State Park.  Turns out the reason for the name

Utah Meet Gordon, Patron Saint of Boondockers, who, with admirable modesty, arrived to save the day.  He installed two new super batteries that he swears will get us through the night with both heat and fridge, and a portable solar “tickler” panel to keep those babies gurgling and happy during the day when we’re off doing boondocky things. Gordon also dispensed advice regarding the cleaning and maintenance of our black and grey water tanks.  At that point I left Dan to receive the Wisdom as that is a mystery I have no wish to delve into.   When Gordon rode off to save more hopeless souls Dan was filled with a new conviction and confidence that I found most attractive. Our next boondocking experience is several weeks off but I know that our patron saint will be watching over us and all will be well. Then Dan told me one of Gordon’s recommendations: that we not flush toilet paper but rather collect it in a bucket and dispose of it separately.  Seriously?  Oh Gordon, you looked so good up

Why, Dan?  Why?  Why did you feel it necessary to Google my Bob? It’s the Tooth Fairy and Santa all over again. Oh Bob!  You are nothing like the ‘avuncular, slightly weathered guy with a twinkle in his eye on the next barstool who strikes up a witty and intelligent conversation and despite the fact that he’s drinking Bud Light you can’t help but be slightly attracted to him’ figure I imagined from listening to your voice.    Surely you look like this. But no, you’re a 49 year old CANADIAN who lives in Nanaimo and does voiceovers for the Weather Channel. I may need long term psychotherapy.  At least he has a cute dog.  But Dan, fair warning, you  have a long uphill climb ahead of you.

Utah We were supposed to be boondocking here for 3 nights on the site of a former pioneer homestead called Fruita because of the orchards they planted, which are still going today.  It was too late to pick the fruit (a shame as I sure had the rolling pin!) but we found a lovely spot tucked in amongst the cottonwood trees which were shedding the last of their pretty yellow leaves. The Fremont river, responsible for gouging the mighty canyons we’d be seeing over the next few days, gurgled happily.  It smelled glorious, all damp and autumnal.  One very stupid turkey came calling (hello?  November?) In short, everything was wonderful. And of course, at 4 in the morning everything crapped out.  Again.  No heat, no fridge, no power.  Because Boondocking For Absolute Morons has yet to be written, we’d covered our bases by calling the dealer and the manufacturer and thought we understood the principals involved.  Well, Dan did.  I glazed over after they started talking about inverters and conv

Utah Bryce Canyon took my breath away.  It wasn’t just the altitude.  At over 9,000 ft. it’s true I was panting and giddy, but the sheer other-worldliness of the place would have done it anyway.  How is it even possible this place exists? Fortunately Bob was on hand to explain once again and I have a new favorite geological term: hoodoos, so named because black magic was surely involved in their creation.  Nothing as mundane as erosion.   They certainly cast a spell over me and left me breathless and light-headed and somehow, shall we say, inspired?   You have to hand it to the early Mormon pioneers.  They were fearless and determined in their quest for farmland in this forbidding land.  But their naming skills feel somehow lopsided.  They had no hesitation in naming a town Virgin, or naming a modest mountain Mary’s Nipple which, unless poor Mary was differently formed, or her fella was feeling the effects of the altitude, bears little resemblance to that part of the female anatomy.  I

Utah We first came to Zion National Park in 2010 after attending the World Tea Conference in Las Vegas.  It was the end of June and temperatures were well above 100.  Perfect for drinking hot tea!  But in the icy air conditioned convention center it was much needed.  Then you stepped outside into Hell, gasping and reeling, sweat instantly pooling in nooks and crannies you didn’t even know you had.  Dan would bravely fetch the car while I waited inside until the ac had taken the edge off (the car’s thermometer read 125!) then I’d dash from one artificial environment to the next.  Ghastly.  I hated every moment of it.  Except for the tea part and Lotus of Siam of course. We rewarded ourselves with a few days in Zion. It was still blazing hot so we could only go out in the early morning, and there were quite a few people there, but it was one of those jaw dropping experiences you never forget.  I wondered how I would feel on my second visit.   In the Fall Zion is even more spectacular and

Nevada & Utah There are only two reasons to go to Las Vegas: to get to Zion National Park and to eat the best (according to Antony Bourdain and me) Northern Thai food in America at Lotus of Siam. Having three days to kill before heading to Zion and not wanting to stay in Las Vegas longer than one incredible dinner - I recommend  the Crispy Duck Panang  - we checked into a fancy RV resort in a town between the edge of Death Valley and Las Vegas.   The town of Pahrump (a-pum-pum?) whose reason for existing escapes me, turns out to have attracted a surprising number of infamous people, including brothel owner Dennis Hof, self styled the Trump of Pahrump.  Heidi Fleiss, the Hollywood Madam whose little black book caused quite the stir a while ago, moved here, and Michael Jackson at one time had a pad in Pahrump.  Why?  No idea.  There is nothing here - it’s hot, it’s flat, it’s not pretty at all, it’s quite literally between rocks and a hard place.  Perhaps the town motto should be: Pa

Just when you think you’ve finally cracked it - mastered, say, a new skill - something happens to keep you humble, to remind you that perhaps you should have read Boondocking For Absolute Morons after all, and that relying on Internet Acquired Techniques for gauging the level of propane in your tanks - involving hot water and the laying on of hands (full disclosure, there were two sets of hands participating here) -  was perhaps not the wisest move, and that unnecessary oversights can, in fact, spoil an otherwise wonderful, breathtaking and uplifting experience. Yes, we ran out of propane during a bitterly cold night on the flanks of California’s  highest mountain.  And the fully stocked fridge, which definitely does not use propane, went out on strike in solidarity the heating system, which does. So there we were, huddled in bed with the dogs for extra warmth, like Scott of the Antarctic (or was it Shackleton?) waiting for dawn so we could saddle up and get the hell out of there.  No