Friendship and death: Sedona, Arizona boondocking

Look who came all the way to The Desert to see us! Our very, very good friends, Carolyn and Annie!

Carolyn and Annie at Montezuma's Well, where they were wary of revenge.

  Sure, we look all sedate like middle-aged women are supposed to. Should I have worn absorbent undergarments? Did you bring the sherry? How many more steps? I could use a nap. I said DID YOU BRING THE SHERRY? THE SHERRY! NO! THE SHERRY!!!

L to R: Carolyn, NotMyAnnie, me, MyAnnie

However, Carolyn (far left) is the Venom Whisperer. She showed us our first scorpion within an hour of arrival. We knew they come out at night, which usually keeps us out of our lawn chairs after happy hour, but we had never seen one.

Later that night she found this guy in slo-mo flight:

It's chilly at night now. He was rockward-bound in the slow lane.

This is my camera on tequila.
Western diamondback rattlesnake txts friends: LOLOMG! U wont Blieve this. BCH pls!

Carolyn missed our trip to the V-V Ranch because she was stung by a fire ant and had an allergic reaction.

But, after that, things just got ridiculous.













And we saw things:

Montezuma's Castle. 

Coffeepot Rock, Sedona.

A mountain

Bell Rock is thought to be a vortex. I think it's spin.

Our campsite, the Valley of Death. 

Seeing Annie and Carolyn after eighteen months was like we never left the 'Burg.

After a few days, they decided to leave before Carolyn invoked javelinas. Sorry guys! Next time we'll meet someplace nice, instead of Sedona.

We miss you already.

Boondocking tip #33 - How to have the forest to yourself

Did I show you our road?

It's just as isolated as it looks.

So, why were two young men putting up their tents in our campsite? They had vewwy quietwy pulled their car in around our car, and were setting up by 7AM. Not boisterous. They looked like serious campers, chatting only about the mechanics of setting up camp fifty feet from the Duck.

I woke Annie up gently to prevent her flying into an adrenaline-fueled rage and diving for the shillelagh. I like to meet new people, but not in my bedroom. Then I remembered I haven't practiced my ocarina in forever.



All we have is now, people, and I carpe diemed.

Annie remembered that she needed to turn on a fan and run the water pump. Don't think of this as aggression - these are defensive, every day, musical facts of life in an RV.

With tea in mugs, we got down to strategizing. Annie mimed some cougary moves we could use to discourage neighboring. You're going to have to imagine those, or else come set up your camp fifty feet from the Duck.

By the time we had toast in our hands, the young men were decamped and leaving. Was it something we said?

We decided that they might be total camping newbs, and were looking around for a spot that was obviously legal. Maybe they hadn't considered the delicate issues of forest toileting within whistle-distance from a big rig. Maybe our sleeping noise level left them unprepared for Ducks AWAKE. Maybe they were still ignorant of the immense versatility of tent camping: boldly go where bulky RVs cannot. Live it up, guys! We're the dinosaurs, you're the mammals.

At any rate, dudes, don't be that creepy guy who sits next to you in an empty theater.

I had thought earlier that I wouldn't mind sharing our site for a weekend with another RV, if dispersed camping really got that scarce. In a tent, the forest is your oyster, or some other surf 'n' turf metaphor.

I could have taken them hiking, and Embarrassment would have left the trail, broken camp, and loaded the car for them.

Back up just a little more. One more step...

A boondocking blogger polled his readers and discovered that "other people parking too close" was the biggest boondocking peeve. What do you think? Are we curmudgeons?