The camper is rocking today for all the wrong reasons. Fifty mph wind gusts have been sending the sands of Monahans Sandhills State Park skyward since early afternoon, and by 4 p.m the sun’s glow had been so obscured that it looked like nothing more than a pale white dot. By 5 p.m. the air was brownish-gray, the sun completely obscured. Still, this morning I was shirtless in flip flops and shorts, so I’m not complaining, but 50+ mph* winds will definitely rock a camper and leave you hoping nothing tears free.
Speaking of which, I hooked up my 280 watts of solar power today and disconnected from the shore (campsite) electricity, because while I’d originally planned to stay here 10 days, a spot opened up at Big Bend National Park 175 miles south, where there’s no electricity in the park. So I’m running a test. I even worked a couple hours. Big Bend was my next planned stop on my journey last year before I scuttled and came home, so now I’m going full circle.
Monahans, meanwhile, is a great place to stay if you want to get some reading and relaxing done in the sunshine, and I’ve done plenty, but I’m itching for some hiking and new sights and you can’t do much in the sand. It should also be a few degrees warmer in Big Bend (though the last two days have been 70 and mostly sunny here).
When the sun is shining, 280 watts of solar is enough to run my Starlink satellite and laptop and charge my phone in the daytime while still adding juice to the battery (unless the wind catches your 50 pound, $300 solar panel and tosses it panel side down 10 feet through the air and skidding across gravel—then it won’t give you any power. Fortunately, they make them tough). In the evenings, the battery takes over any nighttime activities (lights, music, maybe some Hulu), and if you do it right, by the time the battery is wearing down the sun rises and the solar starts charging it up again. So essentially, I’m living on the equivalent of under three 100 watt light bulbs per day. Of course that’s not exactly true because my stove and fridge and heater all run off propane, and not having that stuff be electric saves a ton of battery. But if/when the battery does get too low, I have a gas generator I can fire up for an hour or so and I’m good. If this all sounds like I’m a minimalist and a survivalist, I’m not, but I do like to take notes.
I tried sand-sledding today in one of those round disc sleds. I found a dune about 60 feet high and really steep and let loose, only to cruise down at about 5 mph while a wave of sand avalanched along with my fat ass to the bottom.
I had been having doubts about this trip this year—what it is exactly that I’m doing. Sometimes I think about it and it seems a little crazy, and I also feel like maybe I’m not a serious person, whatever that might mean. I’m really not sure I have an answer for why, besides that I’m exploring, looking, being curious, and continuing to be enamored by the outdoors. Maybe that’s reason enough.
But now that I’m moving I think I’m finding a rhythm of the road and connecting with the land, and I’m enjoying myself. Cooped up inside my house in the winters has become too much for me the last few years, and so removing myself from stale, repetitious environments where every day seems the same (though somewhat unavoidable in our lives) is my way, I guess, of dealing with monotony while creating some space and time to focus on other things (writing, hiking).
Today I met a retired guy from Quebec who leaves Canada with his wife every November and returns in mid-April. He’s on his way to Yuma, AZ, but had just been in Mercedes, TX, where he said there are many Minnesotans and other midwesterners. He likes it here because it’s only $15 a night with electric and water right at the site (a park ranger told me that one camper has been living here for more than a year). A friendly campground dog stopped by for a few pets, too, which was exceedingly kind of him.
*Update: winds now over 60 at 8:20 p.m.
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