Twisty, Curvy Roads

I am sort of used to waking with strange melodies running through my head, but this morning was pretty unusual... I found myself in what must have been a dusty small colonias - a subdivision with no running water or sewers - standing beside an ugly stucco colored building. To the west, an azure sea stretched into the distance. But between where I was standing and the sea, there was a small, round-topped hill with almost vertical sides. A single weedy looking tree on the crest hung over what appeared to be a dark, English-style cottage rapidly rotting away. I seemed to be speaking with, or at least being talked at, by a builder-type person dressed in khakis. He seemed to be trying to sell me the ugly building which turned out to be a semi-finished duplex. Suddenly there was a diesel engine roar on the single caliche street on the other side of the building. I looked over and there you were. You were driving what appeared to be a very large glass tour bus. It was made of glass but acc...

Lot's of work, but it looks much better! This Casita group on Facebook is such an inspiration! After all these years, thanks to your posted examples, I finally decided to actually do something about the definitely grubby and chalky exterior of my '89 Patriot. Up until now, I have always told myself that having a "well-used" look to my equipment was a sign of true outdoorsman sophistication. None of that newby gloss and shine for old Jim! I mean, does anything communicate true "campfire savoir faire" better than a well worn pack and smelly sleeping bag? But your helpful posts and photos soon convinced me that, au contraire to my long standing prejudice, a grubby Casita was more of an expression of extreme anti-social tendencies than it was of manly know-how and experience. So soon I was up to my knees in bottles of Meguiars, Poly-Glow, applicators, wiping cloths - every possible tool and gadget that might somewhat smooth the Herculean task of cl...

When I am traveling I often park for the night in places where I do not want to call attention to the fact that I am there. It may be the parking lot of a truck stop or a big box store, or it may be a roadside pull-off in the middle of nowhere. If I am sleeping in a well lighted parking lot, I do not want the light creeping into my Casita. If I have stopped in a lonely spot alongside the highway, I want to be able to cook, read, etc. with no light leaking out of the Casita to draw attention to the fact that I am there. Above all, I do not want anyone to be able to look into my Casita through the windows day or night. The blinds that were in my Casita when I bought it did not appeal to me. At night, anyone passing by could tell that I was in the trailer and if they got close enough, they could peep around the edge of the blinds and see where and what I was doing. I wanted more privacy. Also, I am not an aficionado of frilly decor - Everything in my Casita is plain a...

Getting lost is something at which I am quite handy! I had heard that Arkansas was a beautiful place, so I pointed myself in that general direction. Ended up somewhere around Mena, Arkansas. I liked it a lot. When it was time to head back toward Texas, I saw a little road that looked interesting. It was paved and looked well maintained, so, "Why not?". Gradually the pavement turned to gravel. The the gravel turned to dirt. The the dirt turned to..., well, let's just say that  those who live a sane existence, would have found a place to gracefully turn back toward whence they came. Eventually I came to a fork in the road. The Forest Service had helpfully posted a map on an old fence post. That gave me some assurance that eventually I would find my way back to civilization. I snapped a photo of the map with my phone, and so continued onward. That night I camped at Shady Lake Campground. Marvelous spot, and if you ever find your way to where ever I was, I am ce...

Spent Thanksgiving last visiting my soon-to-be in-laws near Willis, Texas. On the way home I conveniently became lost, saw a sign that proclaimed "Park Road", and soon found myself in an almost empty state park. It was close to dark, so Max (my canine traveling companion) and I found a spot and set up for the night. It was a peaceful night, but the next morning was enough to make even the most insensitive heart break into song! Ma x and I spent most of the morning browsing around and I took a few photos for my memories book. The most remarkable photo turned out to be the one that I did not take! If you look closely you will see a white bird (an egret I believe) flying over the water and if you look closer still, you can see a ripple in the water slightly behind and to the left of the bird. That is an alligator swimming by. What originally caught my attention was that the bird was standing on the alligator's head as the 'gator swam along. The alligator would s...

Around 2:30 this morning one of those infamous Texas rain storms blew into town. Now I dearly love the softly muted sound of rain on a Casita roof. It gently reminds me of boyhood visits to my grandparents and the not so muted sound of rain on the tin roof of their farmhouse. As I lay enjoying the sound of the rain, the thought struck that perhaps this would be a good time to check for leaks around the various rivets and openings in the Casita's  shell. On went the lights, and immediately I saw a fairly constant drip of rainwater coming through the curbside window at the foot of my oh-so-soft and comfy bed. Galvanized into action, I maneuvered my already damp mattress and bedding away from the drip (in my mind it had fully reached the proportions of a Texas Niagara), and examined the spot. The first thing I noticed was that the water was not coming in around the frame of the window, it was coming through the screen! Water was being trapped on the inside of the sliding pa...

I have a selection issue with campsites. I find a place that is nice..., but just not quite right, so onward I go convinced that just over the next hill or around the next curve, the perfect camp is waiting. In younger days, I traveled most often by shank's mare and carried everything I needed upon my back. I spent many nights in camps that were, if not perfect, so close that my imagination was fueled with enthusiasm for what I would discover the next day. --- Of course, I can also remember dropping in the middle of a mountain trail and sleeping on rocks so severe that only total exhaustion allowed any sleep at all. Even now, in my dotage, I continue my quest for the perfect campsite. In lieu of shank's mare, I travel in a 4 wheel drive Toyota. My canvas packsack has become a fiberglass Casita travel trailer. Instead of mountain paths, I travel country back roads and the occasional jeep path. Still, my vision is the same..., just over the next hill, or just ar...