Running The Gamut

The last time I slept on land under the care of the Bureau of Land Management, or BLM, it was sublime.

My camp was in a kind of amphitheater in Bonneville, Utah, backed by hills and low cliffs and open toward the white salt flats where the next day’s hot-rod speed-record-seeking would take place. And soon after sunset, the full Hunter’s Moon began to rise over the mostly white valley, turning the scene surreal.

This time, in Quartzite, Arizona, it’s pretty pedestrian: A bumpy open field covered with tufts of uninteresting vegetation and the holes and ruts dug by countless vehicles coming and going over the years. Yes, there is a moon – a waxing gibbous, with ten percent of the lunar surface illuminated by the sun, so a relative sliver. And a major highway — Interstate 10 — within sight and earshot of my van.

Quartzite is not a glitzy town. It’s known for the rock and gem shows held here, and offers Joanne’s Gum Gallery, displaying Joanne’s personal collection of gum wrappers.

It’s also known for the gathering of full-time travelers and their vehicles in the Rubbertramp Rendezvous. Held in January, it attracts what is likely the largest gathering in the world of nomads — people who have chosen, or have been forced by circumstances, to live in a vehicle, instead of a traditional home. It’s organized by the Home on Wheels Alliance and the website Cheap RV Living, and features socializing and education about the lifestyle.

And of course, Quartzite was a major filming location for the Oscar-winning movie about living on the road, Nomadland.

Visiting honest but marginally bland places is an element of #VanLife that all the cranky detractors cite in numerous and nearly endless YouTube videos. They warn that not every location will be Instagramable, not every stop will be serene with the shining sea visible through the open rear doors of the Sprinter/Promaster/Transit you chose to pursue the astounding beauty of the natural world.

It’s true. Not everything about this life is perfect or scenic. But whose life is?

And once I button myself up in the van, all the doors shut and locked and the cab windows concealed by a folding partition that rests on the seat cushions, all the ugly goes away. And the white noise of my roof fan dilutes the truck noise; the result is a gentle hum from the highway — except when one of the growlers roars by on I-10.