The open nothingness of the desert was a welcome change from the busy social world of Seacliff Beach. The rain and clouds broke up as we drove through the Mojave Desert but not before we were treated to a beautiful desert rainbow. We could see both ends, many miles apart from each other, but the middle of the arch was missing. The remaining clouds made for a lovely desert sunset as well, glowing golden-orange over the mountains to either side of us. Who knew how much this tree-hugging, redwood forest-lover would be drawn to the desert?
As we made our way from Bakersfield to Quartzsite on Thanksgiving Day, 
we grew a bit concerned about finding diesel. When we did find it, the price was a tad steep… about a dollar thirty more than at the last station. But did I complain? Maybe I would have but for this sign, right next to the cash register!
As we’ve traveled this past year, we have heard and read about the RVing phenomenon of Quartzsite, Arizona. Described as a sleepy town except when the snowbirds alight in winter time, I found it to be bigger and more sprawling than expected. It’s somewhat populated with venders and RVers now but come January we hear it will be crazy-busy, hosting hundreds of thousands of visitors who come for our country’s largest swap meet and a variety of events, in particular a huge gem and mineral show. But the real draw is free-to-incredibly-cheap boondocking in the surrounding desert.
We hooked up with our friend Gene, from Montana, at the Plomosa Road free camping area. It was well after dark when we pulled in and found his trailer by flashlight. It’s a big place but Gene had given us excellent directions. He had eaten already but it was Thanksgiving after all. Our meal of cranberry relish (just like Mom makes!), stove top stuffing, canned green beans and turkey lunch meat suited us as well as any feast. After dinner we watched the end of the “Godfather” and swapped stories in Gene’s Airstream before tucking in for the night.
Gene was traveling, as usual, with his three dogs, Bailey, Beauty and Katita, and his cat, Dumpster. Camped nearby in his Arctic Fox was his friend, Fred. They were caravanning, en route to Yuma, and maybe on to Mexico, when they both had engine trouble. Their misfortune was our good fortune as it was wonderful to see Gene and his pack again, and to get acquainted with Fred. In the morning, they went off for a walk and we washed up and futzed with systems. A short exploration into Quartzsite taught me that after weeks in the desert, this cheesy scene, reminiscent of a county fair without the livestock, might be welcome. Maybe. But not yet; the place to be was our desert camp. I was happy. We decided to stay another night.
We were glad we did. The day passed all too quickly. We shared dinner with Gene as the sun set, and then the four of us sat around the prettiest campfire ever under the darkest, most star-filled sky I can remember. Some previous camper had left tidily bundled stacks of progressively-sized branches next to a rock fire ring. Gene used it to build an almost smokeless fire that was truly a work of art. It was surreal, magical, incredible … a living sculpture of fire.
I hated to drive away in the morning but being in a toot to get to Texas, we did. Our next two nights in an RV park in Benson, AZ and a rest area outside Van Horn, Texas paled in comparison. We planned to stop at South Llano River State Park tonight but it’s just after noon and we’re only 150 miles from Canyon Lake. It beckons to us. But will it feel like “home sweet home” to be there? We’re about to find out …
