Waiting for the Last Gasp – Adam Overland

I left Tonto National Forest in Arizona on Thursday after 13 nights there. It had rained for 3-4 consecutive days because of the CA “atmospheric river,” so that cut down on my activities and the trailer had me feeling cooped up. Eighty square feet is fine if you have the outdoors as your living room, but get stuck inside too long and you’ll go a little crazy. 

Thursday night after driving about 200 slow miles (the first 20 through mountains at 20 mph) toward Anza Borrego Desert SP I stopped about 30 miles short and stayed in a Love’s parking lot. To the sounds of idling semis I had some cabernet and got a little high, danced a bit in my camper by myself (per usual), then about midnight I popped out and went into Love’s and bought some orange Tic Tacs and some taffy, which I haven’t had in forever. Then I ate all the candy and went to bed and in the morning my tongue was still bright orange. So basically it was a nearly perfect evening.

I’d actually wanted to camp at Joshua Tree National Park, where I have a reservation starting tomorrow, but it was booked up so I hit Anza Borrego on Friday, about 80 miles south. Heading into the park there was a giant off-road recreation park (Ocotillo Wells), which is not something you see in the midwest, but I’m realizing dune buggies and jeeps and broncos with huge rock crawling tires are a way of life out here for some people, and I’m not gonna lie—I really would like to rent a dune buggy and jump some stuff, but I didn’t see any for rent. I stopped at the park, which had all kinds of steep climbs and obstacles and jumps, and I tried to look kinda sad to see if someone would offer me a ride but no one did. They just kept jumping stuff and ignoring me.

Anza Borrego Desert SP is pretty wild. Heading into the park you pass through the Anza-Borrego Badlands, which look similar to the badlands at Badlands National Park in South Dakota, but not quite as colorful and amazing. Still, I didn’t realize there was anyplace quite like the South Dakota badlands, but the topography here was close. 

And then all throughout the desert drive into the park, you’ll see people boondocking—basically just driving off the road in between cacti and parking your rig, setting up solar or whatever you have, and camping for free. I asked a park ranger and they don’t care; people basically live out here for nothing. There are also little RV communities all over the southwest where I imagine people are retiring or snowbirding, where they hook up to electric and sewer for probably under $400 a month and call it good. 

After driving awhile, I found a sand road and drove down it and found a good enough camp spot in about 2 feet of sand, then got stuck. Fortunately 4-wheel drive popped me right out, trailer and all, and so I’m camping a couple nights for free under the stars. 

The last two days I’ve hiked about 6 miles each day and my dogs are barking, but I feel like I’m getting in better shape pretty quickly. I hiked my first ever slot canyon, a narrow place where water from rains have cut a narrow pass through soft sandstone. Then today I hiked toward a desert oasis, a small area around 3 miles into a mountain canyon where there’s enough water to support a grove of desert palms, about 50 of them. It was a surreal sight and felt like a little piece of paradise after hiking in the hot sun for two hours to then be under the shade of palm trees and the mist of a cool waterfall.

After a hike yesterday I went into Borrego Springs, a town of about 3,000 right in the state park. I popped into a bar/restaurant and a guy started chatting me up right away and I could tell he was gonna be a talker. He was one of those people who just keeps talking, and if you have something to say he doesn’t pick up on the social cues and if you do get a word in his eyes glaze over and it’s like he doesn’t hear you. 

He was a retired cop, so he talked to me about guns, shooting deer for the reservation nearby for $200 a deer (he shot 27 in 2023), and oddly about tax evasion and how he’s stashed a bunch of money he hasn’t paid taxes on. Then he talked about how last night he hit 105 miles per hour and how he likes to drive drunk, and they always let him go because he’s an ex-cop and still does a little freelance copping. Soon he was talking about how his wife had recently died, and I said I was sorry to hear that, but he said he’d dig her up so she could die again if he could. “She was a real bitch.” He was basically a walking felony and I was thinking the desert with minimal people is probably a really good place for him. He likes it here, he says, because no one cares if he has a huge bonfire in his front yard, which is evidently the definition of freedom. 

Fortunately he drank fast and left, but so did I after one beer and some expensive, subpar food. Everything here is spendy because it’s all shipped a pretty good distance into the middle of nowhere, so gas is $5.20 and a small can of artichokes is $5.50 and so on. I did save on lemons though because as I was driving past a huge field of lemon trees I got out and stole two ripe ones off a tree. I felt really bad about it later and kinda still feel guilty a day later and wished I’d only taken one but I was excited to see fruit on a tree. I think that might be how you know you’re in a good place—if citrus fruit grows there, it’s probably a nice place to live. Anyway, I’m just glad that old retired cop didn’t see me take the lemons.