COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS

After only 29,000 miles the front end was shot on the rig.  Don't even consider a Ford F-450 chassis.  It took the better part of a day to have it repaired in Lake Havasu, NV.  "OUCH"

Boondocking a little north of Topock, AZ in the Mojave Valley.  This place is an old dream someone had for a subdivision.  80 acres, all terraced but then something went wrong and who knows who owns it now.  We've plunked down here a couple of times and no one has bothered us.

                                                                     Desert Marigold

                                                                      Desert Phlox

These two wild flowers were growing in what I would call completely dry gravel and sand.       How they manage to propagate, grow and flower is a mystery to me.

                                                                      Topock sunset

                                                                  Ringed Billed Gull

                                                                 Great Blue Heron


                                             
We’ve been sitting on the Fort Mojave Indian Reservation for the better part of a week. Bullhead City Nevada is a couple of miles to the north, California four miles to the west and Arizona three miles to the east…right in the southern most crotch of  Nevada.  After the Government beat this tribe into submission, they scratched out the boundaries of what they figured was the most worthless piece of sand in the area and told the chiefs to stay put.  Little did the U.S. know at the time that this area, with the Colorado River running through it would become more valuable than their little white eyes could ever imagine. 

The casino here has a large, hard earth parking lot and allows free dry camping (no hookups) that suits our solar panels just fine. 

I met a fellow from British Columbia that’s been hanging around here for the last month, he’s not what anyone would call stout but balloons his wanna-be chest after a few gorilla brews.   Not a bad sort really, just another alcohol Atlas…like the rest of us.  He’s a cancer survivor with a half dozen wives in his wake that cling to his shadow like a ghost.  In the winters he comes south following the warmth and prospects for gold in the summers.  He says, “One of these years I’m going to pan enough of that Canadian gold out of that Fraser River to break even,”  and then laughs with all the merriment of the simple minded, opens another beer, and passes out two dollar Canadian coins (The Dooly he calls them) to all willing to listen to his stories…of which he has plenty.

I went into the casino twice, both times with my snoot full of beer, figuring I was the worlds best craps player and both times gave them back winnings from last year.  Our little bank roll of last winters "hard earned" profits  is dwindling.

 This poor fellow makes a person feel better about their own situation.  The tires on his van and trailer are near bald, the AC on top of his trailer was without shroud (who knows if it even worked), his generator needed several yanks to get it going and then had a sickly sputtering cough when it finally came to life.  Sadly, his wife was wheel chair bound.  Count your blessings.