Arizona - to Yuma, then north

Salome KOA, Salome

Sunday, 20 February 2022

I had trouble sleeping last night, partly thanks to the group of folks in nearby campsites that were having a gay old time together - and I couldn't complain because the quiet hours don't start until 10 PM.  Then about 2:30 AM I heard something really strange that sounded like a pack of javelinas (they're here in the monument) had attacked a small dog and carried it off.  Of course, javelinas are vegetarians, and I doubt if anyone was stupid enough to leave a small dog outside overnight, but anyway that's what it sounded like.  It was loud enough to wake me up and scary enough to keep me from going back to sleep easily.  My dogs didn't like the noise either.

When I walked the dogs around the campground early this morning, I noticed that a lot of the vehicles - pickups and motorhomes and campers - had propped their hoods open overnight.  Is that to keep condensation from forming overnight and making the engine hard to start?  I didn't do that but had no trouble starting right up.  And I didn't see anybody I could ask.

That lack of sleep meant  was going to have trouble staying awake as I drove across the vast desert area of southwestern AZ today, and I couldn't use the generator/microwave until 8:00.  So I packed up and moved us up to the visitor center a little before 7:00, where I could use the microwave to heat up some coffee to put in my thermal cup for the drive.  Yeah, I could have used a pot on the stove, but that always makes the coffee taste boiled.  Microwaved is better.

From the visitor center parking lot I got a nice view of the sunrise.

This came first:

Then suddenly, this showed up:

It was pretty gorgeous.  My photos don't do it justice.

The dogs and I walked around the parking area a bit, I turned on the generator and used the microwave to heat up some coffee, and then we got on the road a little before 8:00.

today's route

We covered 314 miles today, which felt like a very long day, probably because there really wasn't much variety in the scenery.

You can see from the map that the one road that runs through the monument goes straight to the Mexico border.  On the way north I passed 3 large trucks with open tops, and they were piled over the top with household goods and mattresses on top of everything else.

Just at the edge of the national monument is the tiny town of Why.  Of course I had to look up where the name came from.  Two Arizona highways meet there forming a Y intersection, and folks wanted to call the town Y.  But at the time, state law required at least 3 letters in town names, so ...

The town of Ajo, elev. 1,740', looks like a thriving place.  They have more than 3,300 residents and the population grew slowly but surely between 2010 and 2020.  Ajo is the Spanish word for garlic, though I don't know if that had anything to do with the naming of this town.  Passing through town I saw the American Citizens Social Club.

And then we entered the Barry M Goldwater Air Force Range, one of the largest free fire ranges in the world (AZ is a big state).

We came to a Border Patrol Immigration Checkpoint.  The problem there was that they had a very active canine who sniffed all around the RV while Dexter got very upset.  I told the agent it wouldn't find anything except the smell of my dogs, but of course they didn't take my word for it.  I was glad when they got done and Dext quieted down.

At Gila Bend (elev. 735'), I stopped for gas and talked with a young woman waiting in line.  She told me she was nervous because she was supposed to meet her boyfriend's grandmother.  She was wearing baggy knee-length shorts that displayed her heavily and colorfully tattooed legs but had at least removed some of her facial piercings.  I told her I was sure it'd go fine, and it might, but I'm guessing it's going to be tough on Grandma.

I passed a turn for the Painted Rock Petroglyph site.  I hadn't heard of this, but it turns out to be an area with about 600 boulders covered with petroglyphs - one of the densest such concentrations in North America.  BLM is the caretaker, and they operate a nearby campground.  Something for my next trip to AZ.

I passed a vast installation that I was sure must be solar panels, but they were concave and silvery, not at all like the usual solar panel.  Thousands of them.

I saw a sign for "Middle Of Nowhere Gas Station Sentinel AZ."  On the internet it's billed as the only place to stop for 60 miles (thus the name), but I couldn't find out whether it's even still in business because all the information about it is locked away (as far as I'm concerned) in Facebook.

I saw an AZ license place that read: WR DONE.  (We're done?)

And a NM plate that read: SF VIDA.  (San Francisco life?)

And another AZ plate that read: SDEHUSL (side hustle?)

As I got closer to Yuma I started to see large fields that had been planted with some kind of bushes.  They looked dead and I couldn't figure out why someone would plant bushes, but I could easily see the rows they were planted in, which no one would bother doing without a good reason.

Several times today I crossed something called the Wellton Canal, which seemed to have plenty of water in it.  Online I found that that water came from the Colorado River.

At the town of Wellton I saw acres and acres of RV parks.  And I kept on seeing them all the way over to Yuma, which sits smack on the border with California.  This is clearly an area that gets lots of northern visitors.

In Yuma, I found a large city park named after E.F. Sanguinetti.  In Yuma he's known as the Merchant Prince of Yuma and is credited for founding a number and variety of industries in the area.  His life spanned 78 years on either side of the turning of the 20th century.  The park covers a full city block and is covered in lush green grass and lots of trees.  We enjoyed walking around here.

Not far out of town I passed a field where 25 or 30 men were harvesting something green, and the smell of lettuce came into the RV's cabin.  It looked like back-breaking work because they had to stoop over and whack loose the plants, straighten up and toss them onto a conveyor belt headed for a large truck.

I continued to pass crop fields - maybe cabbage, and maybe broccoli.  I saw bee boxes beside a field of flowering broccoli.  I passed other fields that had just been harvested, some that were recently planted, and others that had just been plowed.

For some miles I saw a sort of dirigible that reminded me of one I'd seen in West Texas.  Finally, I saw a sign that said "Tethered [something]" - I couldn't read anything but the first word.  But I've looked back in my blog and found the mention back on November 28, 2020, that said a sign called that one a Tethered Aerostat Radar System.  Since the 2 floating objects looked the same, I'm guessing that's what this one is too.  The one in Texas is supposedly being used to fight drug trafficking, and AZ does have a long border with Mexico.

I passed what felt like endless miles of sand and scrub, all backed by mountains.  And I saw lots of North Dakota license plates.  In fact, I saw more ND plates here than in any other state besides North Dakota.

I came to the town of Quartzsite, elev. 879' (still very low compared to where I've been).  For some reason, its population declined by a lot in the last 10 years, sitting at 3,677 in 2010 but down to 2,413 in 2020.  On the other hand, they figure they get more than a million visitors a year - mostly RV folks and mostly in January and February.  They say they may be the RV boondocking capital of the world.  And from what I saw, they might be.  Campgrounds were full, and wide areas of undeveloped land had RVs parked haphazardly all over them - no need to line up if you're not plugging into a power source.  I'm not set up for that but quite obviously lots of people are.

Not many miles farther along, we came to Brenda (I guess - I never saw a sign), an unincorporated town of 466 (as of 2020) that seemed to consist entirely of enormous RV parks - all of which looked full.

By this time I was on 2-lane US-60, and I moved over onto the shoulder to let a semi go by me.  And he actually flashed his lights to thank me - first time in a long time anyone's done that.  It lifted my spirits.

From there I came to the tiny town of Hope.  Wikipedia says its name came from the town's hope for increased business after some merchants visited.  However, they say, today the town consists of one RV park, one gas station, one church, and one antique store.  But they've got a sense of humor: not far to the east of town I saw a sign saying: "You're Now Beyond Hope."

And not much farther from there I came to the almost-non-town of Harcuvar, which is where the Salome KOA actually is.  But I could find almost nothing about Harcuvar online, only that it was once known as Mountain Pass.  I don't know why the name changed or in fact anything else about it, including why the campground is there instead of Salome.

What I can tell you is that Salome isn't pronounced like I thought it'd be.  It's pronounced as 2 syllables and rhymes with home.  And I can also say that this KOA has as much ambiance as a field of gravel - which in fact is what it is.  Gravel everywhere, with occasional stickers thrown in for the dogs to find.  I sure was glad I hadn't planned to stay there for more than the one night.  Depressing.