The Cruise of the Good Little Land Yacht, Jolly Swag is my second big motorhome cruise. The first was twenty-eight years ago in my 26-foot GMC, Elsewhere. It still ranks as the highlight adventure of my life. My wife and I accompanied by Mame and Spray, left our Florida home behind and logged 18,000 miles in 28 weeks and visited every major national park in the lower 48. Never jaded by each of Nature’s new offers, we began to be satiated with natural wonders after we visited the Smokies, Yellowstone, Glacier, Bampf, Jaspar, Pacific Rim, Redwoods, and Yosemite. Then we arrived at the Grand Canyon and our jaws dropped once again.
But never since. That is, until I crested the last rise before Quartzsite, Az.
A few minuted before, still easting on I-10 with five miles to go, I noticed about a dozen motorhomes moored a few hundred yards into the scrubby desert. They were widely separated, like arrogant dandelions in a well-tended lawn. Then there were scores and the hundreds. Still three miles from the town I topped a gentle hill and sighted an ocean of motorhomes., a solid central-core of five square-miles with nebula arms rotated outward.
In the midst of this I was able to find the gathering place of Safari Treks, nearly 60 of them staked out their own village in a great circle the size of four football fields. Thus, began still another adventure.
I have pictures which I am unable to upload to the blog—it will be a couple of weeks before I can. If you are on my notification list, I will let you know when I post them. Otherwise, check the page named Quartzsite—First Impressions in a couple of weeks. And, if you’d like to be on my notification list, drop me a note at AL94501@Gmail.com
Arizonans and Californians are well represented in the Trek group. But Florida, New York, and Maryland folks are here, too.
Trek Village has nearly the same number of dogs as people. I have also met one cat and two cockatoos, a dozen stuffed animals, and jungle of wild beasts in the form of exquisite airbrushed murals on the billboard sterns of these coaches.
I met a pair of affectionate Dobermans. When the red guy wants a little petting, he leans against your knee. I mistook the gesture for a sign of affection. When he gave me a serious poke in the crotch, I was quick let my fingers do the talking on his head and ears.
The old broads, Pat and Jeanne, who were featured on these pages just a few weeks ago were headed in this direction until they blew an engine. Would everyone get their prayer flags in the wind for them.
Trek folks are friendly. You might point out to me that everyone who gravitates to an event of common interest is friendly. I know that. I’ve pedaled across Oregon with 2200 cyclists, I’ve done the Columbus Day Regatta in Biscayne Bay with a thousand other sailors, but Trekkers seem to have some extra energy going for them.
Vera Clark believes, Trekkers are more adventurous than other RVers. Because of the Trek’s ingenious Invisible Bed (it is in the main cabin and rises up to be snug against the overhead when not it use). The design permits the 24-28-footers to offer the amenities of coaches 30-34 feet, a size which is prohibited in many national parks and federally-owned land. The smaller, more maneuverable Treks can push further into roads less traveled.
Vera has a point. But I think something more subtle is at work here. Vera and Captain Doug have been full-timing in Treks for 18 years. I met them in Washington in October. Their warm, outgoing, and sharing nature enhanced the tone for the modest get together of Northwest Trek owners.
I believe that newcomers to any group adopt the attitudes of the first people they meet. I think Vera and Doug have been imitated and emulated by younger RVers. And the whole culture of Trekkers—at least those of the West Coast– takes friendliness to another level.
Once again The Universe seems to send me good fortune on my special new community. And, today on Day 107, it seems quite certain that before long the Year on the Road will be the new highlight of my life.