dokodemo

In Bowie, I had to ask where the road for the Hot Well Dunes was located. The gentlemen attempted to explain, and his coworker came over and drew a quick map, saying she had done it a thousand times. Her map was much better than his words, but I still got lost.

I passed the turnoff and travelled aimlessly down a maze of sandy roads. It was amazingly beautiful, but I was getting worried about becoming stuck in the soft sand.

I finally backtracked, able to follow my unique tire treads, and found my turnoff. From there, it was simple.

As I pulled in, I met the camp host, driving around on his ATV. His new puppy was patiently riding on a piece of carpet strapped to the gas tank. I was pleasantly amazed that with my National Parks Pass, it would cost me $3 to stay there for 2 nights. For you mortals, you would have to shell out twice that, at $3 per day.

One of the great aspects of this type of BLM land is that dispersed camping is allowed. This means that instead of using a typical campsite (little parking area, picnic table, etc), I could just go out there... and park. Thats the kind of thing it seems the Westfalia is made for, but the legal oppurtunities are not as many as one would hope. In this case, I was able to drive around the sandy desert and seek out the spot I liked best.

After setting up, I walked to the hot springs, leaving spirals in the sand every so often so that I could find my way back. It was only a day later that I realized I was the only pedestrian in the place, so all I really had to do was look for footprints. 9 out of 10 times, they were mine.

The springs are open all night, which is a mixed blessing. I was very glad to get some midnight soaking under the stars, but also a bit resentful at the loud ATV crowd. I made conversation with a concrete worker from Safford. He was extremely drunk, but was on moderately good behavior. It was a little uncomfortable when his Mexican friend came over, and started cursing about the wetbacks at work. I suppose that ethnic groups in general use their given epithets with a certain bit of pride, but this was a little discouraging. He spoke of how the Mexicans at his company couldn't get anything done, and he had to often seek out the "whiteboy" supervisors.

After a bit of this, I just decided to go back to the van and look at the stars, and go to sleep.

The sunrise was the best yet, a very deep purple.

Spending the weekend there was a great relaxing break from the driving, but Saturday it really filled up with the ATV people. I can't blame them, that is what this area was set aside for, and it really was perfect. A huge, almost endless network of sandly roads, ramps, dips, ruts, cliffs, and ledges for them to play on... I just got tired of the noise.

Saturday's sunset almost matched the sunrise. Impossible flourescent orange, reminding me for some reason of a superball I had as a kid. I would hold this thing, just wondering how such an orange color could even exist. This time it filled about half of my field of vision, before fading into purple and disappearing as the stars emerged.