Open Letter to the Snowflakers, or How to Avoid Looking Crazy

Last week there was a website article called "Allergic to Life" posted for The Guardian about the MCS/EMF community in Snowflake, Arizona. As you may recall, I visited this community a few years ago and although I enjoyed the company of the people, the area was a little barren, too depressing  and filled with too many car-eating rats for me to want to uproot my pet bunny and subject him to the horrors of giant snakes and roaming packs of dogs. The bunny is gone. Lately I have been revisiting this idea. How nice it would be to live in a community of like-minded people. Too bad they live in hell.

The more I thought about the article, watched the video, and perused the comments, the angrier I became. Unfortunately due to the overwhelming response, the comment section closed only a week after publication. Half the comments were from individuals with first hand MCS/EMF experience either because they are sufferers themselves or have direct contact with family or friends who are chemically sensitive. The other half were who I like to call "The Unenlightened" - people who have no experience nor have any knowledge on the subject yet due to their ignorance and inability to empathize feel the need to berate and blame the victim. For lack of cognitive understanding because of their incredibly low functioning brains, they blame it all on mental illness. They just can't wrap their heads around the fact someone might be different. I think even if I had left a comment it would have been deleted for being inappropriate for all the hollering, name calling and swearing I would have done.

This post is my response to the article.

The article and short video present a very interesting glimpse into the lives of these societal exiles including health history, illness remediation, architectural design requirements and various lifestyle allowances and restrictions. I found the suicide rate to be the most enlightening if not disturbing. The video has some very nice photographic elements, although the interview techniques and editing are substandard.

My main critique is the author is mentally ill and off her medication. Now, you probably think I'm being sarcastic, but she says as much in the article. Why? This is an article about MCS/EMF lifestyles so why is she front and center? She has even included two photos of herself. I surmise they appear only for posterity. She loves her mentally-ill self and she needs a self-esteem boost. Her mental illness has influenced her outlook greatly and perhaps she has sought out this community to validate her own illness.  Clearly she arrived in Snowflake with an agenda. Who farts in front of their interviewees and celebrates it in their own article? Bodily functions have been perceived as subversive entertainment since the beginning of time. It's too tempting. Only the crazy lack social skills. But she's on a mission.

The article and video fail miserably at qualified research. There is little medical research history cited and even it points to mental illness. There is nothing on the government agencies that recognize MCS as a disease and disability. There are no interviews from medical professionals, whether supportive or not. The author was invited into the community on the condition she would not contact psychiatrists who would debunk MCS/EMF diagnoses. I know these verbal agreements were an attempt by the interviewees to focus the article as a vehicle for public education rather than spreading narrow-minded untruths about the condition. Unfortunately, what is left is an expose on mental illness.

The message is clear: MCS/EMF is a psychological condition rather than a physiological health problem.  The author complied with their requests as she didn't call in the so-called medical naysayers, but worse, she states in the article that the interviewees tried to make her promise to not to even write about it implying they are paranoid and unnaturally fearful. She highlights behaviors that are strange which calls into question the rationality of her hostesses. She talks at length about her mental illness and makes comparisons while allowing the kind and empathetic MCS/EMF community members to offer advice and assistance. After all, they know the signs. The author also writes with the flare of insanity: disorganized, off-point, babbling without cognitive control. The whole article, including the writing style, screams mental illness. This strikes me as a back-stabbing. A betrayal twisted just so to appear as if they complied with requests and respected their subjects. Kathleen Hale...you should be ashamed of yourself for taking advantage of these people.

So who's at fault here? A mentally ill journalist with an agenda? I think not. Reckless, thoughtless, self-serving journalists always have agendas. That's the point of their job. It doesn't make it right. It just is what it is. The Snowflake community members are experienced with journalists and filmmakers as they seem to get their fair share of them visiting. So why aren't they better prepared? Perhaps they need some constructive criticism...

Dear Snowflake Community Members:

I have met many of you and I didn't get an impression of mental illness. I also know chemical and radiation poisoning does affect cognitive function, energy levels, and overall well-being making us less likely able to defend ourselves. Forced exile and isolation beg for company. This puts you at a disadvantage when dealing with celebrity-seeking journalists with agendas. Still, your current method of presentation is less than helpful to the MCS community at large. Here are some tips for handling journalists:

First, journalists are not your friends. You shouldn't be inviting them into your house for personal experience. Some are honestly searching for truth and knowledge, but most have an agenda that inspires them to desperately seek subversion and/or entertainment. Twenty-four/seven access invites too much scrutiny. Keep them at a distance. They are usually not trustworthy. Besides, if you can't offer basic hospitality, don't offer them bare bed springs and no blankets. Don't add dirty mats as if that rectifies the situation and provides comfort. Forcing people to walk naked from your car to your house over gravel is anything but typical. (If they were so toxic, why were they allowed in the car?) Expecting them to wear your underwear and feeding them cabbage soup is not socially acceptable. This style of hospitality screams MENTAL INSTITUTION complete with a violation of human dignity. If the author has ever been committed, I'm sure she was feeling right at home. Regardless, such an adventure will make for a really, really good story.

You can't impose censorship on a journalist. It defies the notion of our American patriotic freedom of speech. This freedom is the blood which runs through a journalist's veins. By attempting to control what they write and how they think, you challenge them do exactly the opposite. The more sleazy and underhanded they can play, the more satisfaction they will feel. They are constantly looking for a publishing edge. That's how they make their living. If you can't be honest with information and accept whatever they may write, don't extend invitations. Trying to control them with conditions and promises only makes you look paranoid [mentally ill].

Interview the journalist before he/she/they arrive. Have them send sample writings or online links to their publications. Research their positions on health care, politics, etc. Do they know anything about MCS/EMF and what are their current opinions? Ask for references. Find out if they have stabbed anyone in the back before. Can they actually write well without babbling incoherently? Find out if they have health issues. Find out if they are mentally ill. Any indication or instinct that feels wrong, decline their request. Be on the alert for sociopathic liars.

Assume journalists will seek and find the opposition. That is their job. Instead of attempting to control what they will write which only tempts them with the forbidden, guide them in their endeavors. Offer it to them on a platter. Give them information you want them to have including facts on how and why incompetent medical professionals view MCS/EMF negatively including prepared rebuttals. Give them names of doctors to interview. Heck, set up the appointment for them and point them in the right direction. Make their jobs easier. If you wear them out with information, the lazy journalists might stop there. I find being open and honest about the opposition is more helpful than trying to subvert it.

Be prepared. Instead of trying to control the journalist, control yourselves. You are the expert on your condition. You've heard all the questions and know all the answers. Present your facts with precision and clarity. When the journalist asks, "What would you say to the people who say you are mentally ill?" have a response ready that is clear and concise rather than, "Get your head out of your ass." Now I totally understand this response and the video editing that made it a sound bite, but to the general public aggression can be perceived as a symptom of mental illness. Don't talk about wrapping shit in tin foil, or putting a gun to your head, or implied child abuse. Do not let your guard down or babble thoughtlessly.

Practice good thespian skills. In addition to being prepared, be aware of how you present yourself. Be an actor. Control and plan your responses. Maintain a professional stance in order to relay quality information and purposeful education. For instance, if someone asks you what you do in your free time, don't say "...including things I don't want to go into." What does that mean? Are you a masturbation addict? It is not advantageous to sound like a psycho, a pedophile or a unabomber. Instead, respond with, "Oh, I do all kinds of things. I read, write, listen to music, go for walks." Don't give them sound bites that prove to the public you are strangely subversive. Assume anything you say and do will be held against you, or presented for public consumption permanently online...forever. Prepare your lines and present them like a sane person starring in your own movie.

Avoid contradictions. Anytime one challenges the status quo and tries to educate the public by telling them their everyday habits are toxic and health threatening, the Unenlightened will search for contradictions to discredit your information in order to legitimize their own lifestyle. Don't give them ammunition that supports their notion it's all in your head. If you tell them you are sensitive to plastics, don't pull out the plastic containers for photographic opportunities. If you tell them car exhaust makes you deathly ill, don't discuss driving or living in cars. If the journalist persists in her use of the word "allergy" and even plans to use it in the article's title, don't feature your barking dog in photos. Being "ALLERGIC to life" would imply pets are a problem as well. It's bad enough you have a barking dog around people who have hearing sensitivities. Contradictions discredit your information. You become unbelievable adding to the myth we are all just confused [psychologically impaired] or lying in order to get disability. Granted, a journalist with discrediting agendas will be looking for the contradictions. Again, don't invite them into your home.

Create your own articles and videos for public education. If you truly want to control what is written and seen, then produce your own public relations materials. Yes, I realize this takes energy and capital, but it's the only true method of control. Even so, what you write will be met with criticism and scrutiny.

Again, inviting journalists into your homes is risky as well as exhausting to anyone who is chronically ill. If you don't have the energy to maintain a controlled, professional demeanor, I highly suggest to avoid extending invitations. Think of them as vampires - once invited, the terror begins. I hope this list of suggestions is helpful the next time someone wants to invade your space and share their experiences with the world. It's advantageous to not promote the notion it's all in our heads.

Thank you,
Multiple Chemical Survivor

Home Bound from Snowflake

After assessing all my discombobulation, I decided I needed some distance from it so I took off, heading home, planning to get to Flagstaff while thinking on route and knowing if I decided I needed to stay longer I could always turn around and head back to Snowflake.

“Standin’ On the Corner in Winslow, Arizona”

Winslow was on the way to Flagstaff and this town was exactly how I had hoped Snowflake would be! It has a real main street with an historic downtown. The neighborhood houses look like the historic districts of Phoenix with eclectic little houses in various styles. 

At the main intersection on the street is a huge Route 66 logo and on one of the corners is a statue of a guitar player standing on the corner to commemorate the Eagle’s song “Take It Easy.” I’ve looked forward to seeing this roadside attraction the whole trip having read about it in a book.

 

 

 

 

It didn't disappoint! I also took a walk in the historic La Posada Hotel built in the 1930s. Beautiful. The art collection was wonderful. Although I really liked the town, outside the historic main street the place feels depressed with lots of closed businesses and rundown buildings.

Starvation

Unable to get much in the way of food in Snowflake might have contributed to my overwhelming desire to leave (besides my introverted need to turn off all the people). Next stop was Flagstaff where I looked for New Frontiers Food, a health food grocery store much like Nature’s Oasis in Durango and Whole Foods although both are much better than Whole Foods. I definitely overdid it, buying all kinds of bad things, and one big salad! They had gluten-free pumpkin pie!!!! I couldn’t help myself and felt so much better after gorging.

The Vortex

My sinuses cleared outside of Flagstaff and I took this as a sign. Instead of west, I headed south to Sedona and Prescott via 89A. Beautiful. The 200 foot ponderosa pines were gorgeous and it was so nice to see more green and shade. The pine smell was lovely and the twisty/turny drive down the mountain was scenic.

On the road between Snowflake and Sedona I had time to think. I can still turn around and go back to Snowflake, rent the house in the middle of nothing and have myself an adventure. Now that I’ve stepped back from Snowflake and escaped to a greener and slightly less dusty environment, there is something depressing about Snowflake with the desolated landscape filled with sick people. Maybe that’s what’s bothering me? All these people seem much more sensitive than me and most have EMF sensitivities. The insides of their houses are lined with tin foil and most have all metal furniture. It feels very institutional. It looks ugly. Living like that would be a constant reminder of illness and substandard health. I could take that twenty acres and make it beautiful. It would be a wonderful challenge, but once the challenge is over could I survive in such a soul-sucking atmosphere? Would my own self-created beauty be satisfying enough?

More importantly, do I really want those people showing up at my house unannounced like they do at the Incredibly Generous Woman’s house?  I think she is extroverted and has encouraged that, but I’m an introvert. I don’t want constant guests even if I need people like me in my life. I want visitors on my terms. I could set boundaries, but I fear that would alienate people and I wouldn't want to do that. Still, those people are MY PEOPLE. It would be so nice to be surrounded by people who get me. Or maybe I just need lots of land lacking in toxic neighbors in a beautiful area and I’ll be great. The problem is how to afford that without going into major debt. Twenty acres for $25K is too tempting to write off so quickly…hmmm…

The vortex is not what it once was. Fifteen years ago I remember Sedona as a tiny little town with a few health food stores, a few more new age shops and that’s it. It’s suffering greatly from urban sprawl and it is now a gigantic tourist attraction. I stopped to get information on camping then headed to Prescott. This took me down, down, down into the valley where the landscape changed back to desert and the temperatures rose from 59 to 75. I took one look at the desert landscape and realized I had had enough of desert. I changed my mind, did a fast u-turn, and headed back up to the forest area.

 

I selected a free campsite up above the valley in the ponderosa pine area called 535 which is an unmarked road to the left. There is another free camp area called 237 which was to the right further up the highway. I didn’t want to drive in too far and most of the sites at 237 were right next to the highway so I went back to 535. I really wanted to camp at the Cave Springs camping, but the fee was 18.00 and the store closed at 4pm where you could buy a shower token for $4. It was past 4pm when I went back. More importantly, I was worried I’d spend all that money and be surrounded by a forest fire of campfires. I value my lungs. So I’m up at freebie camping, all alone in the woods. It is much warmer here than Snowflake at about 50 degrees, and I don’t think there are any car-eating rats around. All night cars and trucks were driving up this dusty dirt road, even at 5am. It’s Friday night. I wonder if it’s kids having a party? The dust did a number on my sinuses. I don’t like dust.

California

Left early around 6:30am. In Flagstaff the highway was white with ice and the temperature read 23 degrees. It wasn’t nearly that cold at the campgrounds. An exit sign outside the city read “Devil Dog Road”. HA! That road has history!



 

The scenery along I-40 was desert and desolate. Blah...blah...blah. Kingman was 70 degrees. I was planning to camp just north of Barstow but the town was like an urban ghetto: lots of rundown buildings, degenerate-looking men and homeless women with filled shopping carts wandering the streets. I was uncomfortable stopping for groceries, although I didn't see any grocery stores. There was no way I'd camp there even in the vicinity. It didn't feel safe.

I knew passing up my planned camping spot meant a long day of driving. I considered twice turning right and going up the east side of California. I regret not doing that. For some reason I thought California would be lush and green. I was wrong. Dropping into the valley at Bakersfield was horrible. The smog was so thick I couldn’t see anything. This is just like Los Angeles and I'm pretty sure the air was blown up from L.A. Lots of agriculture along the highway but viewing it through brown-gray haze was anything but appetizing. Lungs were heavy but not nearly as bad as it was in Boise which leads me to believe the haze was smog rather than agricultural poisons. I was determined to keep driving and not stop until the sky cleared.

I headed north on I-99 hoping to reach my friend’s house in Chico. The roads in California, even the highways, are in such bad shape with pot holes and patchwork, but the California drivers drive them like a race track. Everyone is going at least 10 miles over the speed limit. Lots of traffic, too, even for a Saturday afternoon. 

The smog stopped around Modesto and my body stopped just north of Stockton. My right leg started cramping up from all the sitting and driving. It got dark really fast and I needed a place to stay. There were two RV resorts at one exit and I impulsively pulled off. One didn’t take tents and the woman told me to go to the other just on the other side of the freeway. I was disappointed they were both next to the freeway. But I couldn’t find the other one! After driving up and down the road, I finally figured it was actually about five miles down the road. (Idiot woman!) Very expensive, $38 with a discount, but showers, laundry and wi-fi were included. Most importantly hardly anyone was in the tent camping area so I was isolated from campfires. It was very quiet and the temperature was much warmer at around 58 degrees all night. It was wonderful to be warm!

Woke early, took a gloriously long, hot shower (first one in a week!) and left around 7:30am.

 

Drove state highway 12 to Mendocino through Napa, Sonoma, Petaluma, and Fort Bragg. Beautiful towns with gorgeous vineyards as far as the eye could see, but the road was really horrible. Mendocino is my friend Urfa's home town. She visits it a lot and talks about it all the time. I've always wanted to see it so I can picture it when she tells me things. Mendocino is gorgeous!!! Right on the ocean. Very artsy, hippy-ish and expensive. I wish I could live there. It’s depressing not having the finances to live where I want. The twisty/turny forested roads in and out of Mendocino were stunning along with the ocean views, but they were very time consuming so I didn’t get as far as I would have liked for the day.

Going north up the coast I got off Hwy 101 and took the scenic Avenue of the Giants with the enormous redwood trees on each side. Who would ever think a tree could get so large?

At one point I checked out one of the Humboldt State Park campgrounds: overpriced at $35! The ranger was rude and unaccommodating so I left.

 

I raced down highway 101 trying to get to my free campground before dark, but didn't make it. I had no idea where it was so I found a campground on route at Big Lagoon State Park just south of Crescent City for $20. I’m in the trees next to the beach and I can hear the waves roar, but it’s dark so I can’t see a thing. Love it. It’s off-season so hardly anyone is here, but if it were during the summer I’m pretty sure all these closely situated sites would be filled and the campfire smoke would be unbearable.



Entrance to my campsite from beach

 

Between yesterday and today my patience is running thin. I’m irritable and snappish. California does that to a person. I think I’m tired and eager to be home. OR maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten any rice in a week? I feel like I'm starving all the time. It must be the lack of rice.

Woke early after a great night's sleep and hit the highway for home. I came upon a warning sign "Elk Crossing". Yeah, how many of these did I see in Colorado? This one didn't faze me until I dipped down into the valley and came upon a whole herd of elk all over the road and surrounding landscape. There must have been two hundred of these huge monsters unfazed by my van. I was tempted to stop and take a photo, but I didn't know if they might view my van as a threat and those antlers didn't look safe. I didn't want to end my vacation being maimed by elk.

Drove up the northern California coast and into Oregon looking at Crescent City, Cave Junction and Grants Pass, all places people have suggested I might like. I really loved the dense green landscape. The best town was Grants Pass. At 34,000 it's more like a city, but it has a quaint feel about it. The air smelled really clean. They have a good health food grocery store called Gooseberries and a little section in the historic part of town for other businesses catering to the healthy minded. I really liked it. Stopped a few times to check real estate prices. Nothing compares to Snowflake's cheapness and of course, everyone tells me construction loans are nearly impossible. This is always discouraging and I hear it too often.

Arrived home around 8pm after a scary drive in the dark on Suicide Highway. I survived! So did the van! It's nice to be home.

Sinuses cleared in northern California and stayed that way all the way home. I really hoped a higher elevation would cure me of all discomforts, but it seems it really made no difference. The dust and dryness at higher elevations was a problem. I anticipated walking into my house and having a respiratory reaction or smelling something bad from being away from it, but nothing. The house was freezing cold with no heat, but other than that, I was fine. I'm happy my house is safe for me. And then I went out to visit Peter and give him a good massage. He missed me. With rabbit fur flying, my sinuses congested and throat started itching. After all that driving to find a safer home, Peter is the cause of all my discomfort. I guess I kind of knew that already. I love him, but he is a pain in my ass on so many levels.

For my next house-searching road trip, I plan to scout eastern Oregon.

Still contemplating Snowflake...maybe I'll drive down again in the spring when everything is in bloom.

I'm in Snowflake!

Snowflake desert with EI housing

I got to Snowflake around noon and drove up and down Main Street looking at the businesses and neighborhoods. It doesn’t really have a town center and Main Street is more like a big strip mall. I was disappointed. I expected more from the Mormon founders. I found the health food store and ate lunch. It’s very small, with lots of supplements, but lacking in my favorite foods. All the meat was frozen. Lunch tasted moldy. I can’t imagine getting my weekly groceries there. I checked out the supermarket which had no gluten-free products, although it had an awesome bakery. During pre-MCS days I would have spent a lot of money there, but it’s virtually useless to me now.

I drove to Show Low which also has a very small health store. There is a Safeway, but I don’t shop at Safeway as it's one of the worst corporations on the planet only second to Monsanto. I worry about lack of food. Currently I drive 1 ½ hours for organic food and it’s getting old. I’m not interested in moving somewhere which requires the same.

I checked out some hotels. The Silver Creek Inn  in Taylor creeped me out. The room was so small and it had a musty smell. The Holiday Inn Express in Show Low was absolutely beautiful and the reception woman was outstanding and accommodating, but the room smelled like "new" chemicals. I'd suffocate by morning. The Heritage Bed and Breakfast in Snowflake was also beautiful and smelled nontoxic, but I worried about privacy and being in too close proximity to other guests. Each room has its own bathroom and television and wi-fi is available. This was a reality check. All along I was assuming I'd be able to stay in a hotel if I absolutely had to and now I finally realized it's not even an option. I felt really vulnerable.

At this point I realized I needed a contact. Not knowing anyone makes moving long distance very difficult. I had planned to meet with the real estate agent tomorrow, but I needed a personal connection, one that wasn’t trying to sell me something. I had been in touch with a woman who was currently building in Snowflake. She was incredibly inspirational, sending me photos of her property and house construction at various steps and telling me she would introduce me to others when I visited. I felt we did some online bonding, but when I emailed to tell her I was leaving for Snowflake, her response was, “Have a nice trip.” I wondered if I was reading too much into such a terse response, yet she offered no way to contact her when I arrived. I figured I’d email her when I arrived, but I knew wi-fi would be lacking. I felt as if she just blew me off.

 

So here I am in Snowflake, realizing I need help connecting to the town through humans. There was another woman who I emailed and phoned a few months ago.  She had volunteered her driveway, but I knew she just had a guest who left same day I arrived and she had been at a conference in Phoenix. I assumed with so much humanity overload, she would be exhausted and not want another guest so soon. I know I'd feel that way. I emailed her before I left for Snowflake and she told me to call when I arrived.  So I did. Her response was, “Do you like rice noodles?” I was a little taken back, but replied I wasn’t sure as I never had them. She said, “Come on over and we’ll feed you!”

The Incredibly Generous Woman

The Incredibly Generous Woman is the acting “leader” of the MCS community although I’m pretty sure she’d laugh at that label. I believe she is the one who has single-handedly created and developed this community through her personal outreach and constant hospitality. She invites chemically-sensitive strangers to stay at her house while she connects them to resources and helps them meet others. I asked her at one point if it gets to be too much or if she has boundaries and she said she screens people. If they indicate at all they need her to take care of them, she shuts it down. She has no desire to care for anyone so people need to be self-sufficient or if unable to care for themselves, they need to bring a caretaker when they come. She wasn't shy about stating her needs and rules for visitors.

When I arrived, she had several people at her house with more arriving as we sat and talked. One is a filmmaker doing a documentary on chemically sensitive people. It was wonderful to sit in the living room and talk to other MCSers. They get me and I understand exactly the experiences they describe. The discussion ranged from hearing sensitivity to the non-support of spouses to how many of them came to move to Snowflake. At one point I expressed gratitude for the social experience explaining in eight years I’ve lived in my house I have never had this many people over at the same time. In fact, I don’t think that many people have visited me TOTAL. This is what the Incredibly Generous Woman does. She brings people together and makes them feel comfortable and welcome. She is the glue to this community and their centralizing force. Oddly enough, we both majored in art history in college! I love the way she giggles all the time. She strikes me as a very happy, well-adjusted MCSer. The group discussed the rats that infiltrate the cars, living on top of the engine for protection and warmth and eating the fuel lines. Good God.

Snowflake
Temperature Range: 55/26 (brrrr...)
Elevation: 5,579
Population: 5,564 (2012)

My first impressions of Snowflake: I have no problem with the landscape, I LOVE the overwhelming silence, the houses seem well-built and rather cute for being all metal and the MCSers I met are friendly, helpful, and supportive. I still haven’t figured out the logistics of finding a place to rent first and I am determined to do just that before making a commitment. I have no idea if I will have serious reactions to sage, juniper, and the grass that covers the desert here. I don’t want to make such a serious mistake that I find myself miserable and transient. Many of these people claimed they took a leap of faith and purchased real estate as they didn’t have a choice being so sick. Some did not tolerate the Snowflake environment and left while others stayed. Most of them seem to be sensitive to EMFs which is a real issue anywhere else with the radio towers and frequencies. Some have had bad reactions to the tin foil that is used to seal the houses from the EMFs. I am not sensitive to EMFs…yet.

 

Camping in my van in the Incredibly Generous Woman's driveway was...cold. No. Freezing. The temperature was nearly the same as Durango so I couldn't figure out why I couldn't warm up. I laid shivering for too long even dressed in multiple layers of wool. Finally I remembered I brought my below-freezing sleeping bag. I've never really liked it because it's polyester and the feel of polyester makes my skin crawl, but its purpose is to keep you warm in freezing weather and that's exactly what I was desperately needing. I removed it from it's storage bag. It was cold. I wasn't hopeful. As soon as I slid into it within seconds I was warm. Wow! So glad I didn't sell it in that last yard sale!

Day Six: Movie Stardom

It’s very odd to have a filmmaker with a huge camera follow you around and listen to your conversation. The Filmmaker is doing a documentary on MCS featuring people and is in Snowflake to film the Incredibly Generous Woman. He is here off and on filming her and others so this wasn’t his first visit. When he asked if it was OK to film me I said sure because I think contributing to public awareness is important, however, all night I kept thinking I don’t want to be in a movie talking about personal stuff!  I could imagine my relatives and neighbors watching me on the big screen as I talk about how much I hate them and their ignorance. But when morning came, the sun was shining, I marched right into the house without thinking and...ignored him. Keep in mind I hadn't had a shower or washed my hair for almost a week. I definitely was NOT thinking. I deserve an Academy Award for pretending I wasn’t freaked out knowing the camera was capturing every mundane word out of my mouth. Then I had to fight to appear natural when the words coming out of my mouth felt like I was reading from a script as I carefully censored what I might say. AND THEN I kept wishing the Filmmaker would stop filming so he could participate in the conversation. I felt it was rude to exclude him and he was exceptionally articulate and thoughtful so I valued his insights. Later he said it was fine to talk to him while he's filming. He's just gathering footage he will edit later. He asked me to tell him about my van camping system so on film for the world to see I explained my pee bucket. Jeez...definitely not thinking!

New construction next door

 

Kitchen (white section) is separate from house.
In between will be the entrance and shower room for decontamination.

Little white house is spouse's "play house" for toxic office equipment
or arts/crafts projects.

We spent the morning walking through the desert, talking and filming. The Incredibly Generous Woman pointed to the neighbors, explained desert floral and fauna, and discussed chemical sensitivity. She showed me the neighbors who are building a new house. It's the same color as my van so I loved it immediately. A construction worker was laying the ceramic tiles for the bathroom. Beautiful. Yep, I could live here.

 

Neighbor to the east.

 

Incredibly Generous Woman's house. See the second car with the hood up?
That's to discourage the rats from moving into the engine. Eewww!

I shared my eco-village vision and we discussed building codes and construction rules. I dug some of the dirt to do a soil sample, but it was all rock and sand. I couldn’t get down further than maybe six inches. Hmmm…I probably wouldn’t even have to have a rock foundation for my cob house here, but I would need to figure out the drainage as the water tends to sit right on top of the sand. I used the topsoil for the sample. It's all sand, of course, and it looks like chocolate milk. I was told it's useless to weed unless it's monsoon season. Yep. I tried pulling up some grass. It doesn't want to move. All morning the Incredibly Generous Woman kept talking about connecting me with others so I was hopeful I’d get to meet more people, see more houses, and get more information.

The Worst Real Estate Experience of My Life

I met with the real estate agent in the afternoon. I had a bad feeling about him. He was really nice, but didn’t really seem to understand what I wanted.  Or maybe he deals with too many people like me: idealistically arriving in Snowflake and then changing their minds as soon as reality hits. I'm sure wasting his time gets old. His office stunk. His truck stunk. We drove for miles on horribly maintained dirt roads. He, in his four-wheel half ton pick-up and me, in my non-four-wheeling van. Really? I’m not really sure why he thought that was feasible.

We looked at an EI house that is for sale. The owner is considering renting it. He wants $600 a month which seems really high for the size of house and the amenities. It's not like there is a view! Way out in the middle of no where on 40 acres (he’s only selling 20 acres). It’s very depressing and much more isolated than anything I’d imagine. But quiet. Really quiet. God, I love quiet.

 

For sale or rent.

It has propane to heat the water and the radiant flooring, solar energy for electricity, and water is delivered and stored in a 1,000 tank. The walls were covered in tin foil sheet rock. Incredibly ugly, but the agent said in another house the same owner built, he covered it with some kind of plaster and paint. The covered porch spans two sides of the house. Awesome porch. The agent pointed out the porch faces northeast and the winds and sun will come from the southwest. I could put Peter on the porch and screen the whole thing in, but I don’t know if Peter would like living on cement. I made a comment about needing to buy a gun for backcountry protection. The agent agreed explaining about the packs of feral dogs that roam the desert. Although I appreciate his honesty, he wasn't a very good salesman! Hmmm...I’d never sleep at night with Peter outside in a cage and packs of feral dogs milling about.

 

The front yard...40 acres...desert as far as one could see.

Unfortunately, the owner still had it filled with his belongings. I could smell something that was bothering me but I couldn't tell if it was from his stuff or the propane. I'm not sure the propane was even hooked up. I was a little disappointed no one thought to make it presentable to prospective buyers or renters. And they wonder why it's not selling.

We got back in our vehicles and four-wheeled it to the second site over ditches and washes, through sand, dirt and mud. It took at least an hour to get to the next property. I was totally lost and my sense of direction was befuddled. Several times his four-wheel vehicle would spin out, but most often he was miles ahead of me. It was scary and stressful. I worried I’d get stuck, destroy my shocks, or end up in a ditch. At one point he took a wrong turn and I had to back out of the bumpy dirt road for about 500 feet. He said “Don’t worry there are no ditches.” I replied, “In this van, every bump feels like a ditch.” He promised the next road was better. It wasn’t. It was worse.

I was swearing like a truck driver and in tears whole way. When I finally caught up to him at the property, I rolled my window down and without hesitation as calmly as possible said, “I need to get to the nearest road NOW. This is scary, stressful and unacceptable.”

He smiled and calmly said, “OK." Then pointed to the desert, "This is the property.”

I said with a glare and too much sarcasm, “Great." I was not impressed. That’s an understatement. I didn’t give a shit and I was angry. I wanted to get out of there.

Instead of taking me to the nearest road, off again we went four-wheeling to the next property. If I had any idea of where I was, I would have left him. This property was actually possible. Twenty acres with all utilities for $25,000. That price is unheard of in most places, but this is the desert.

However, I’m still not clear on the logistics of moving [Peter] and I’m determined to rent first. Construction loans are impossible so even if I purchased the land, it would be years before I could build anything on it. Without renting first, it could be a huge financial risk.

Needless to say, my head was pounding when it was over. My sinuses were a mess probably from the dust. The van was covered with dirt and sand. I opted not to see the last property. I just wanted to go HOME. My house in mold country was looking really good. At least the rats don’t live in your vehicle’s engine and eat the fuel lines! Scary!

I realized these last couple days I have expressed fear many times. Everything was scary.  I’m sure everyone thinks I’m strangely fearful. I never thought of myself as fearful, but I know I’m careful. Perhaps this is my subconscious telling me this isn’t right? Twenty acres for $25,000? Where in the hell would I ever find silence, solitude and that much land for so cheap?

I hesitated going back to the Incredibly Generous Woman’s house with my new-found negative attitude and hysteria, but I calmed down by the time I made it out of the desert. I spent the rest of the night deprocessing my stressful experience and trying to regain rationale so I could make better decisions. Again they talked and laughed about the rats that eat the fuel lines or how they steal items out of the compost, store them on the car's engine so when you heat up your car it smells like food. I don't think they realized how much this creeped me out. I'm not fond of rat wrangling.

 

All night the Incredibly Generous Woman kept asking me repeatedly if I want to meet others or if I wanted to see something. I kept saying “yes”, but she never contacted anyone. After spending the whole morning not doing much, I worried if I stayed another day if it would be another day of sitting around doing nothing. They all wanted me to stay for longer to get a better feel, but I kept telling them I have work to get back to and every day I’m gone, I’m losing money. I’m pretty sure most of them are on disability or not working. I felt like I was running out of time and time wasn’t being used efficiently. Then I found out she had an appointment the next morning and I didn’t want to be sitting around doing nothing for another morning waiting. Camping in freezing weather, hunger, car-eating rats, four-wheel driving stress, and lots of extroverted human contact made me want out of there. I absolutely HATE being dependent on people, but in a community of sick people, I couldn't very well head out and knock on people's doors. Frustrated, I planned to leave tomorrow morning early for California.

Sleep as Remedy for Discombobulation

I woke up early. Last night was not nearly as freezing as the night before. On the way out I should have turned right to Snowflake, instead at the last minute I turned left, back to the twenty acres. My head was clear, wasn’t pounding painfully, and I wasn’t in tears. I was thinking clearly and needed to revisit this property one more time rather than impetuously leaving at the first sign of discombobulation. I was pretty sure I could find it again.



 

 

 

Building site right in the middle of it all with septic and water already there.

The neighbors were burning a pile of something and the smoke filled the air. Obviously they were not chemically sensitive. The weird thing about the desert is sound and smell travel much farther than a place where there are trees, landscape and other buildings. While hiking through the desert getting dirt samples, I was on a hill maybe a field away from the Incredibly Generous Woman’s house. The Filmmaker was in her backyard. He could talk in a normal voice to me from that distance and we could hear each other plainly. It was amazing. If my requirements are I don’t want to hear or smell my neighbors, this might not be as good as it looks. I still worry about the plant allergies and Peter’s health and safety.

Still, I could raise goats on this land. They'd eat everything down. Then I could pave parts of it with stepping stones, use landscaping rocks and create a beautiful rock garden. I'd sit out in my rock sanctuary and watch the sunset every night and the sunrise every morning. I can see the creative possibilities.

I wonder if this is when I need to practice being brave and stop being scared. Maybe I should view this more as an art project than housing? More like adventure than an impending mistake? More like excitement than worry? Is it practical to wipe out my bank account with an impetuous move buying desert land that I might not be able to sell if it becomes a nightmare? It would take me a few years to gather up enough money to build. Is the investment worth it? Or should I trust my instincts and walk away, something I don’t do often enough. Impetuous courage or common-sense instincts? Hmmm…it might be fun or it might be hell.
 

I stayed in Snowflake all morning. The local college allows the public to use the wi-fi and even sit in the student lounge. Very accommodating.  I tried to get a hold of the Other Woman for some inspiration, but she never responded. Judging people is so strange. This one seemed very accommodating and wasn’t, where I assumed the Incredibly Generous Woman wouldn’t be welcoming and was. Before I left the Incredibly Generous Woman clearly made sure to let me know if I decided to stay or just wanted to hang out and sleep all day, I was very welcome. My issue is I don’t like to stay long enough to become a burden on anyone and although she thought the option of sleeping all day would be a good use of time, I didn't. Two days is enough unless I can see a clear plan that will keep me busy. Sitting around being unproductive would drive me insane. In addition, I’m so used to being alone, isolation makes visiting people constantly draining. I’m an introvert. She must be an extrovert.

I meant to take some photos of the town before I left, but with too much on my mind I forgot. I drove out of Snowflake around 11am feeling like I wasn't quite finished with it, but needing to distance myself so I could think which is what I did all the way home. And I was hungry. I needed to find some good food.

 



Road Trip to Snowflake

Besides scouting for a new place to live, this is the first vacation I've taken in five years. Why, you ask? Once a chemically sensitive person loses everything or gets very close to losing everything: health, home, security, confidence, money has a whole new value. I know I can lose everything again tomorrow so when given the choice of making money or taking time off which means no money, I most often opt for money. Someone recently called this the PTSD of MCS.

Many times, right up to the hour I was supposed to leave, I hesitated and had second thoughts. Finding a babysitter for Peter was a major step toward liberation. When that happened, I threw all caution to the wind and chanted repeatedly, "I need a vacation. I deserve this. Everything will be fine. This will move the plan forward rather than confine me to stagnation."

I had hoped to write posts from the road and present my experiences as a travel log for everyone to follow, but BlogSpot gave me nothing but hassle. First, it didn't like I was signing in remotely. I appreciate the security, but they need to make it more user-friendly. Once I jumped the security hoops for some reason it wouldn't allow me to create a new post. I'm baffled. Oh well. I kept a written journal and will break it into three long posts: "Road Trip to Snowflake", "I'm in Snowflake!", and "Home Bound from Snowflake".

 

 

The All-Purpose Vehicle

I’ve transformed my van into a camper. The top mattress of my twin bed serves as my bed and is luxuriously outfitted it with flannel sheets, a wool blanket, a comforter, and to top it off, a sleeping bag. With a fluffy pillow, it’s like sleeping at home. I’ve also brought a below-freezing sleeping bag (just in case), a lantern (for reading), a bucket (if needed), a tent (if required) and a pee bucket with toilet paper. For privacy I hang dark green sheets over the side and back windows, sun shields for the front window, and for ventilation I bought screening, the kind one uses for door screens that I can hang from the doors and leave the windows open. It’s not perfect, but keeps the bugs from coming in.

 

View of front at night

 

View of back at night

On top of all this I’ve filled the van with other amenities: cooler with food, plastic bag for garbage, suitcase with clothes, shoes, coats, water supply, health and beauty aids tucked into the cup holders in back, music tapes, maps and notebooks of information, and audio books. I realize now, too late, my error was getting audio CDs instead of tapes so those are useless. I wasn’t thinking. I love my van. It can take me anywhere and is now a totally self-sufficient camper. I love my van. Did I say that already?

Pee bucket and toilet paper at the back corner

 

I should talk about the pee bucket. You’ll probably think this is gross. Yeah, well, some say camping is gross, too. Going without a shower or bath for a week straight is anything but pretty. J I always need to pee in the middle of the night especially if it’s cold. I have no desire to get out of my van in the middle of nowhere half asleep, surrounded by hungry animals and unpredictable humans, walk a great distance to use facilities that are incredibly cold and not always well-maintained. I can pee in my bucket, close the lid, dump it in the morning if there is a restroom or down the toilet at the nearest rest stop. For free camping in the backwoods with no facilities, this allows me the option of camping primitively without polluting the environment with my human waste. Using the restrooms of fancy campgrounds is always a risk since they may be scented or filled with stinky people and their toxic beauty products. The pee bucket works great. Being this self-sufficient allows me the choice of where I can camp. My greatest fear is I drive over a bump and it sloshes or spills all over the van. Eeewww. It's never happened yet. Thank goodness!

After a day or two on the road, everything has a place so I always know where my supplies are and I can find them even in the dark. For security after I put up all the privacy partitions, I always keep my keys in one place so I can find them quickly, I know where the flashlight is, and I can grab my knife in an instant.

Day One: The Adventure Begins!

Miles: 725

Time:  13.5 hours

Temperature Range: 73/32

Butt Pain Level: High

Roadkill: Hwy 84 East = deer, Hwy 26 = cats

“I’m on vacation, I’m on vacation, I am so grateful, I’m on vacation”

I sang that every now and then, most often in between the Jason Mraz songs I played in my tape player. I had a hard time believing I was on vacation!

At 250 miles around eastern Oregon I noticed I could breathe for the first time in a long time. At 370 miles, my sinuses, neck, ears, and head started popping and draining. Shortly after I started getting sharp pin-pricks of pain and all seemed cleared. I nearly cried and thought, “I don’t want to go back home! Ever!”

Boise, Idaho

Once away from the coast the green disappears and all landscape turns various shades of brown. About 60 miles west of Boise, Idaho I noticed everything was beige. It took me a minute before I realized the horrible truth of my observation: even the clouds were beige. Hmmm…in the distance there was a brown haze all over everything. Is it dust from harvesting? Chemicals or pesticides from all the commercial agriculture. Smoke from a forest fire? With in fifteen minutes I had my answer…my sinuses started plugging back up, my neck and ears became congested and my lungs hurt. Then the headaches started. Smoke would cause headache and a bit of lung discomfort, but this was worse. Besides, there wasn’t any smell of smoke. Poisonous air. It cleared a little once I got into Boise, but I couldn’t wait to leave. I remember my last trip near Boise during the summer months at the height of pesticide use. The outskirts of town with all the agriculture looked toxic. I didn’t even stop to see the city.

I did stop this time. City air seemed a little cleaner and the skyline was slightly hazy but not as bad as the outskirts. The neighborhoods of Boise were really adorable with little craftsmen-style houses. I found the Boise Food Coop which was wonderful then high-tailed it out of town. On the way out I passed a superb Whole Foods but it was already getting dark and I had yet to find a campground for the night.

Campgrounds

Campgrounds are a problem for those of us with chemical sensitivities for any number of reasons. Those issues include campfire smoke, scented restrooms, neighbor stink (perfumes, bug sprays, shampoos, etc.), and exhaust from idling vehicles. I try to find remote, primitive, undesignated, or dispersed sites. These are campgrounds without any kind of facilities, unmarked nor advertised by signs, often on BLM (Bureau of Land Management) land, and FREE! They are well-kept secrets although there is some information on their location online at www.freecampsites.net/usa/ and some at the BLM website.  It’s a first come, first serve system and everyone is expected to take their garbage with them as well as have some kind of system for waste and waste removal. I have found the campsites are usually obvious and designated with a place for a campfire with stones or burnt logs, but I think if you get way up into the backcountry this might not be the case. Most of these sites aren’t big enough for a trailer or RV. Although you might be able to find enough online information on a campground to guide you there, most information is from other campers on route, information centers, and even local RV campground personnel who know of free alternatives.

Besides lack of facilities, the only negative is the seclusion and possible lack of security. Sometimes you are the only person there and for a single, female this can be disconcerting to say the least. I lock myself in my van with coverings on the windows. My keys are always kept in the cup holder where I can find them fast, my shoes ready, my knife handy, and I have really good hearing. At any sign of trouble, I’d be outta there in a flash.

The benefits of this seclusion are less people which means less stink and that includes campfire smoke. The campsites at these primitive locations are usually spaced far apart as well.

In a pinch, due to poor planning or as part of the plan, I will go to a state park or RV campgrounds. They are expensive, anywhere from $12 to $38 depending on the facilities, and they are often crowded depending on the time of year. This trip is during the fall which is considered off-season, but there is no off-season for RVers who live in their RV full-time. Again, most primitive campgrounds can’t accommodate large trailers or RVs. Hooray! The advantages of these fancy campgrounds is they do have facilities such as restrooms and at the “resorts” they might even have wi-fi, showers, laundry and swimming pools. When one needs a shower after a week of camping, you can always find an RV resort. If you are on the road for a long period of time, I'm sure that laundry would be god-sent.

The first night I had a choice between a nearly-free campground in Gooding, Idaho ($5) or one someone told me about in Glenns Ferry, Idaho. I decided whichever sign I saw first, that’s where I’d check. Unfortunately the first sign was Glenns Ferry, 72 miles south of Boise and it was pitch black dark when I arrived. The air in Glenns Ferry smelled like a forest fire so I worried. I found the campground at Three Island Crossing. They have around 80 sites, but more than half of them were closed for off-season and the rest of the sites were full. Still, the smoke smell was strong and most of the campers had fires going. I was pretty sure I had already passed my Gooding option so I thought I’d head to Twin Falls to find a hotel. Unfortunately it was already 9pm and my options were running out. Hotels/motels worry me. Would they be clean enough? If they allow animals or smoking in any of the rooms, I’d have problems. Is this even an option at all? If the room was toxic, I could always sleep in the van in the parking lot as a last resort.

Back on the freeway and ten miles beyond Glenns Ferry I saw the sign for Gooding!! It was located eleven miles off my path along highway 26 and I wasn’t sure if there would be sites left at that hour or if I could find it in the dark of night. There are no street lamps on any of these country roads and I was heading into backwoods country. The adventure begins. I love a good adventure, but usually after it happens.

The directions I got online said to find the fairgrounds and the campgrounds are right next to it. Could I find the fairgrounds? No. By this time it’s 10pm. I stopped in a store and asked. She told me to look for the large sign. Someone else said, go over the railroad tracks and at the bottom of the hill it’s on the left. If I get to the river, I’ve gone too far. I never did see the fairground sign, but I did find the campground. It's a small RV campground used during fair season. $15 for RV hook up, $5 for tent. I paid for a tent but couldn’t see where the tent area was due to lack of lighting. And I’m the only person there. I parked under one of the few lamps and crawled into my very warm bed. Total silence.

Photo taken the next morning

 

At first I was a little nervous. A woman all alone out in the middle of no where camping at a deserted campground at the edge of a redneck town. Great. As I started to panic I thought of all the chemically sensitive people who do this every night. Many of them are single women. I’ve read they say the first night of homeless camping is the hardest. I felt like such a whiner. A very lucky whiner as I still have a place to call home. I relaxed and felt humbled. Then I thought of that single chemically sensitive woman who was camping in her car and murdered at one of the campgrounds. I put that out of my head. I needed to trust my fate.

 

All alone. No one was in that trailer.

The amenities here left little to be desired. The bathrooms are at the fairgrounds about a mile away. There is a shower but there is no way I’d ever strip naked and get into that dark, dingy stall. Eewww!  It reminded me of the restrooms of my nightmares without the fecal matter all over the toilets. There are three train tracks about a block away and at least once an hour between 2am and 7am a train passed complete with whistles. I grew up on a farm with train tracks nearby so I felt right at home, although it didn’t help me sleep. My sinuses were congested all night and in the morning I detected a faint smell of sage. I don’t do well with sage. And this is agriculture country. I conclude Idaho is a cesspool of commercial agricultural poisons. I won’t be living here anytime soon. I left at dawn. The town was beautiful in the morning light.

Day Two:  The Desert Nomad Camper

Miles: 477

Time: 9 hours

Temperature Range: 73/57

Butt Pain Level: Medium

Roadkill: Badger?

My goal today and for the next two weeks is to find a campground before it gets dark. At 4pm I start looking and by 5pm I should be settled. I had one picked out a little north of Salt Lake City but decided since it will only take about four hours to get to Salt Lake City I’d attempt to go farther and see if I can find something else. I know with time I get better at traveling. It takes a day or two to figure out the system.

 

Salt Lake City, Utah

I stopped at the Whole Foods in Salt Lake City and asked someone on the elevator. He said go to Moab where there are a lot of parks and geological sites. It's is only 4 hours away from Salt Lake City. Salt Lake City was beautiful with clear skies and little if any smog.

At 4pm I got a little nervous. Utah was all desert. Running out of time and the sun is about to go behind the cliffs. There are plenty of signs for RV camping but I don’t want to be surrounded by RV generators and campfires. I should have noted more of the free campsites from my online research but most said they were off unpaved roads. I don’t have a four-wheel drive so I avoided those.

I arrived just outside Moab around 4:30 and the first thing I see is “RV Campark” advertising tourist shops, historical recreations, and a heated pool. It looked like an amusement park. Not what I’m looking for but I stopped anyway. She said they don’t allow anyone to sleep in their car and if I put my tent up I’d have to sleep in it. Why? Hell, I don’t want to put my tent up and I definitely don’t want to sleep in it. She suggested I go to Willow Springs Road which is a road I just passed. It’s a BLM site! I thank her and left. A woman followed me out and told me she camps there all the time. Lots of sites, very quiet, safe, and free.

 

She was right. There are quite a few people here but the sites are about 50 feet apart so even if they do have campfires, I doubt if they will affect me. Very quiet. And free. Hooray! Perfect camping. The road in was a little nerve wracking: deep sand. I was afraid I’d get stuck so I didn’t venture too far into the backcountry. The desert was beautiful with the mountains in the background. The campers here are friendly and wave as they ride by on their mountain bikes, dune buggies or dirt bikes.

In the middle of the night I could hear wind and rain, but it’s pretty warm. I came from the coast which has been dark, rainy and cold. I think it’s the only place in the country not in the 70s right now…I’m so motivated to find a new place to live.

Day Three: Dodging Tumbleweeds

Mileage: 297

Time: 9 hours

Butt Pain Level: Low

Temperature Range: 65/

Roadkill: Tumbleweeds

All night my sinuses burned and were congested. I have no idea why. Desert dust? I was hoping the higher elevation would miraculously cure me, but I guess not. I drove out of the campsite around 8am, as soon as it was light enough to see.

Sunrise in Moab
(Why do spectacular clouds remind me of Evelyn?)

Moab, Utah

Moab is a wonderful little town. There is a paved bike trail all along the highway from the desert into town. I was told it was built to get the mountain bikers back to town safely as so many of them were knocked over by semi-truck draft. Although I was planning to drive right through Moab, I ended up getting information at the Information Center which is filled with good stuff and a very helpful person. Then I walked around, looked at their little health food/coop, used the wi-fi and considered moving there. I was told the townspeople are very health oriented due to all the hiking, biking, rafting, etc., BUT in the old days uranium was mined in them there beautiful hills so there is concern the environment is contaminated. Hmmm…a bit discouraging, but no one seems to be affected by this. I'd like to come back here and spend a week hiking. Really beautiful geological formations.

I headed to Durango. There is a storm rolling in and the warning is wind. High wind. I spent the next couple hours dodging tumbleweeds that were rolling out of the fields and over the highway. At times there were so many it was like a stampede. Some of them were small and my van wheels crushed them, but others were huge and sounded like an explosion when hit. I did what I could to avoid them.

 

Tumbleweed attack!
(Yes, I'm driving while photographing! Bad, bad tourist!)

The Colorado countryside is gorgeous and the highways are in excellent condition.

Road Condition Comparisons:

Washington = excellent/good

Oregon = excellent

Idaho = bad

Utah = mix/mostly bad

Arizona = mix/mostly good

California = exceptionally bad

I stopped for information at the Mesa Verde National Park. The Internet said the campsite was closed, but the woman said it is open but with limited services. They still want $20 a night. Wi-fi doesn’t come with that. I decided I should go find some BLM free camping first and if I couldn't, come back.

I checked with the BLM office in Durango and was given a map with two freebie campgrounds circled. Both on are the way to Silverton, a small town up in the mountains I wanted to see so I headed that way in hopes I could figure out during day light where to find the road to free camping. There are no “free camping” signs with arrows pointing the directions so one really needs to use common sense and pay attention to clues. It’s a challenge. It’s an adventure.

Lower Hermosa is about five miles north of Durango on state highway 550. Take the Lower Hermosa Road exit and head straight up the hill. The road is paved for about two miles then unpaved with cattle grates. The unpaved surface is washboard and a few times the van couldn't get traction and skidded sideways. This is why I don’t like unpaved roads with my non-four-wheeling van, that and it feels like my shocks are coming undone. The whole van shakes and I worry I’ll need to get my tires realigned. Oh well. It’s an adventure. Really beautiful campsite. And FREE…I like that best. There are bear warning signs all over so I might have company tonight.

 

Lower Hermosa campsite

Silverton, Colorado

I drove back down the mountain and headed to Silverton. Beautiful homes along the way and many ski resorts. The highway narrowed to a very thin two lane road with twists and turns. I was fine until the drop off on the right side too close to my van. My palms were sweating so badly I didn’t think I’d be able to hold onto the steering wheel and every time I put on the brakes it felt like I wouldn’t stop. I played my love song lullabies to calm my nerves. I was creeping at 20 mph up and down the mountain and I’m so glad there wasn’t anyone behind me. I’m pretty sure I was nearly there, but I panicked and turned at the first turnout. I figured if I couldn’t drive the road, it didn’t do any good to check it out as a place to live.  The day was sunny, clear and beautiful. I think if it would have started raining I would have panicked even more and froze unable to drive another inch. I can’t imagine people drive this road in the dead of winter with all that snow! There was snow on the side of the road, but the road was clear during my attempt.

Durango, Colorado

I returned and went to Durango to walk around the town. It was about 3pm and the traffic and car exhaust were unbearable. And I couldn’t breathe. At first I couldn’t figure out why walking seemed to exhaust me, then I realized it must be  the elevation. At 6500 feet, Durango is high. The ladies at the Durango information center said they have lived in Durango for over ten years and they still get nose bleeds. I always thought one would get used to the elevation. Other than the breathing issue during exertion, I felt fine.

I wasn’t impressed with the town in general although I liked the old town section and the cute little craftsman cottages in the neighborhood behind it. Lots of stone and brick houses. The real estate prices are too high, higher than my budget will allow. There is definitely too much traffic and car exhaust for my taste. Although it has services and amenities, it’s too big with a serious case of urban sprawl. I’d rather live in a small town with the amenities close by.

It’s supposed to snow tonight!! I’ll be thankful to make it down the mountain in the morning!

Day Four: Wildlife - It's a Zoo Out There!

Mileage: 235

Driving Time: maybe 4 hours

Butt Pain Level: Nothing

Temperature Range: 40s/38

Roadkill: mule deer

I didn’t wake up to snow as expected, or bears – I woke up to wolves. Two big dogish looking wolves.

Last night after I went to sleep I woke up to a loud crash and men running through the woods with flashlights yelling. Unnerving to say the least. I had no idea what was going on, but I always find it’s in my best interest as a lone female to just keep quiet and pretend I’m not awake. No one needs to know a woman is in that van all alone and vulnerable. Let them assume it's two burly men....with firearms and black belts in self-defense.

 

The next morning I’m organizing, dressing, and getting ready to leave and I see two large canines milling about my van. They are watching the guys who were making the racket last night. I could see the men, one was in his sleeping bag on top of the picnic table and the other was sleeping on the ground. They were driving a small white car. These animals looked like wolves only one of them had dog markings. I know a little about wolves, but I didn't recognize this species. I assumed Colorado had a hybrid species I wasn't familiar with. When the wolves left, I could hear the guys talking. I was out of my van brushing my teeth ready to leave and I got curious so I walked over for a visit.

 

“Did you see those animals? Were they wolves?”

The ground-sleeping man who was by this time out of his sleeping bag explained they weren't wolves but hybrids, half wolf/half dog, wolves bred with Malmutes to be exact. Oh great. One of the breeds most likely to attack. He went on to apologize for last night. It seems after they parked the car, it slipped gear and ROLLED BACK INTO THE OTHER CAMPSITE!! I almost camped in that site and changed at the last minute! The crash I heard was the car hitting and pulverizing the picnic table.

The wolf-dogs were cabled to the car, the cable broke when the car rolled, and they ran. Do you blame them? The men couldn’t catch them.  He said the hybrids get loose all the time and he doesn't seem to have any control over them. Idiot. First, because he tied the dogs to the car which is dangerous to the dogs, and second, because he is too stupid to train them to come on command.

As I’m talking to this guy, the other who was still in his sleeping bag on the picnic table is climbing out. Both look homeless rather than campish and I felt my instincts giving me warnings. I kept my distance. I listened to the man whine about how he has no idea what to do with them and they act like wolves. In other words, they are smarter than their owners. I gave him the short version of my lecture on the responsibility of training dogs so they will come on command and the intricacies of owning a wolf. He continued to whine about being over his head and I just wanted to scream Stupid people shouldn't be allowed to own dogs, but hybrids!? Really? I wished him luck and excused myself. I had a feeling I needed to get away from them quickly. Later I reported them to the BLM office. If anything someone should go up there and help catch the dogs and ideally put the stupid dog owners in jail.

I headed to Pagosa Springs. The countryside on the way was beautiful. The highway was littered with mule deer carcasses. The thing about Colorado is all the wildlife and wildlife warnings. Signs like “Wildlife Zone, Double Fines, Oct.1 – Jun-1, 5pm – 7pm” or flashing “Wildlife Detection Warning” which is scary. I'm driving down the highway convinced something is waiting to jump out in front of me. Also, elk signs. This is much worse than where I live. We have a road I call “Suicide Highway” because the deer are always jumping out and causing wrecks. Just last month I saw a deer run across the highway just behind my van and the car behind me hit it. It was horrible.

Pagosa Springs, Colorado

I had read Pagosa Springs has really great air quality. Unfortunately, it looked like a large strip mall. I expected a quaint little country town with a main street. Major disappointment.

Bayfield, Colorado

This little town is just west of Pagosa Springs about twenty miles east of Durango. It was adorable with an old style main street complete with wild west style buildings, little homes, bigger homes on the hill, more modern facilities down the road. Perfect. I looked at real estate prices. Not so perfect. Real estate is still too high even out in the middle of nowhere. Three acres for $99K.

 

 

On the way back to Durango I discovered Nature’s Oasis, a health food grocery store. Noosa Yogurt made in Colorado. Oh, yum. I found this yogurt in Arizona and California, too. Having an adequate health food source only fifteen minutes away makes Bayfield perfect...if it wasn't for the real estate prices.

Drove to Mesa Verde through a blizzard and took the Cliff Palace tour in a hail storm. I’ve always wanted to see these ruins, but always thought they were in New Mexico. Thank you, Urfa, for the head's up. Saw a tarantula there. So cute and creepy all at the same time.

 

 

Then I went to the Spruce Tree House which is on another cliff:

 

Driving that road down the mountain in the hail and fog was not fun. I played my love song lullabies and hummed along to calm my nerves.

One of the rangers at the park told me about a BLM campsite nearby. Just past Mancos, turn left for Echo Basin. At three miles in, look for the posted camping rules and camp anywhere. Quiet, secluded, non-toxic and beautiful. I got there early, typed, read my book, looked at my maps and with little else to do, went to bed early. I laid there for hours thinking, unable to sleep.

 

 

Day Five: The Longest Night of My Life

Time: 12 hours

Butt Pain Level: Low

Temperature: 50/26

Road Kill: Horses

After laying awake for hours and finally falling asleep, I awoke around midnight thinking it was dawn because everything was so light. SNOW. Two to four inches and cold! Not just cold, but frozen solid to the ground, the trees and my van. I couldn’t get back to sleep worrying about how I was going to get off the mountain. If it started snowing again with the warmer morning temperatures, I'd be stuck.

 

 

I started doing the Secret right away:

“I am so grateful for traction!”

“I am so grateful for clear roads!”

“I’m so thankful I’ll be in Arizona tomorrow, or rather, today later on!”

 

Yep, driving and photographing while negotiating snow and ice.
Am I insane?

 

It worked! My tires gripped the ice on the road, the highway was clear, and eventually that day I ended up in Arizona. Once I made it to the highway in the dark, I headed to Cortez eighteen miles away, found a Denny’s that had wi-fi, ate scrambled egg, thanked the powers-that-be I didn’t create any roadkill, and waited for dawn.

Arizona

I left Cortez around 7:30am for Arizona eager to find sun and maybe warmer weather.

 

I stopped at Four Corners to stand at the intersection of four states.

 

 

Not sure it was worth the $3.00 for the admission. All around the monument were booths for Navajo artists, maybe 100 in total. On this cold, fall day, there were only 5 people with their merchandise. Off season. I really need to stop doing tourists attractions during off-season. It’s not worth it.

The scenery on the Navajo Reservation is gorgeous. I'm pretty sure you need to be Native American and especially Navajo to live there.

 

In some areas the dirt is a bright red/pink with bright green plants. Outstanding. The roads were beautiful, lacking traffic, flat and begging for a bike ride.
 

Clouds for Evelyn

 

The great thing about desert driving is you can see ten miles of road in front of you straight through the flat landscape. I felt tears welling. I felt like I had arrived home. Only one other time in my life I felt like this and it was when I moved to Arizona. I had high hopes for Snowflake.

 

Navajo horses were roaming freely on the side of the road. One was in the other lane watching me approach. I slowed to a crawl so afraid it would jump in front of the van. I couldn't imagine hitting a horse with my car. I honked trying to get it to move off the road. It just stared at me. As soon as I past, it trotted across the road and galloped into the desert. So weird. This wasn’t the only one as I encountered many horses wandering freely on the side of the road as well as one huge pig and a lone cow. Strange. Single cows all alone with no cow friends in sight always upsets me. That's just wrong. Did his cow friends kick him out of the club? Is he sick? Is he lost or bewildered? It's wrong.

 

I was feeling very positive until I reached I-40. Big black clouds hung over the freeway. They opened up dumping rain and snow on the very crowded roadway and the strong winds made all that water go sideways. Scary.  It was very cold. (No, I didn't take photos while driving this time. I could barely keep the van from blowing off the road. Not sure why that would stop me.)

 

On to Snowflake...