Today I definitely felt the Grind of life on the road. Even though I grew up in the Colorado mountains, just over the border from Wyoming–and all that blasting, blowing wind–there are days I just get sick of it. I’m near Safford, AZ right now, after having spent the last few months in the Yuma and Quartzsite areas of Arizona (and a little bit of California). The temps are climbing and so will I. Every thousand feet in altitude drops the high temp about ten degrees. The higher I go, the cooler it is. I’m pushing towards the Continental Divide and hopefully Winter doesn’t smack me right in the teeth.
Today I went out and took some photos near a rockhounding area. Fire agates and chalcedony. The wind was blowing then, but the dust and dirt was deeper in the valley to the south. Then it shifted. Even now big gusts rock the bus. The few times I’ve gone out have felt like I’m being sandblasted. I was told by a local they don’t get snow here. The windstorms are their blizzards. Growing up in Colorado, we had both. I’m glad to have the bus. Some of my neighbors who were camping packed everything in and left. I could tell they were here for the duration, but they got blown out, so to speak.
It was a good day to make a stew. I bought a beef shank a few days ago and once everything came together, I simmered it all on low flame for about two hours. I don’t think I’ve had beef and Guinness stew since I lived in sticks and bricks. It was nice, but I was so hungry from sitting inside, smelling it cooking for hours that I neglected to make mashed potatoes to float on top of it. Blasphemy I’m sure. But it was delicious.
I needed to write. I needed to edit, but instead, all I could focus on was that damned wind. As the day waned and the sky was blotted out by a sand colored wall of dust, I decided to be somewhat constructive. For the last few weeks, my water pump has been acting up. Since I was stuck inside anyway, I decided to take it all apart and find out what was wrong.
Living on the road makes you more self-reliant, and if you aren’t good at fixing things, you will have to figure it out. I’m a decent hand when it comes to tinkering with things, especially if the alternative is spending $160 on a new pump.
I broke everything down, cleaned out some plastic shavings that had somehow gotten trapped in the filter, pumped up the accumulator (it had no air in it), and put it all back together. It took a couple hours. Most of that time was being very careful not to lose any pieces. Good news! The faucet is back to working again. I’m not sure why the pump seemed to be dragging before but it works better than ever now.
I cleaned everything up, washed a sink full of dishes, and doomscrolled my social media. I am beat. The wind hasn’t let up one bit. I’m feeling the grind bad today. Cooped up inside, listening to the wind howl, feeling my bus get knocked back and forth. I wonder if I were on the Sea would I be making good time? Or would I have packed away my sails to keep from getting wrecked. I don’t know. Makes me wish I knew more about sailing. Maybe when I’m sick of life on the road, I’ll find a way to get a boat and do the same thing around the world? I don’t think Penny would like to play fetch in the ocean. I don’t blame her.
Days like today I daydream about life in a more permanent place. Maybe a clawfoot tub. A record player with vinyl albums playing. A fridge stocked with snacks. An oven with pizza rolls baking and some damn fine coffee brewing in my percolator.
But alas, the percolator broke a couple weeks ago. And I’m not sure when I’ll have the chance to find a place like that again. Covid really did a number on everything. The cost of rent doubled. Groceries tripled. Worrying about all of that never lit a fire in my belly when it came to creativity. I’ve got dried beans and rice for miles. I have leftover stew. I have plenty of options. Which is more than some can say.
One of the ways to beat this grind is gratitude. I’m lucky to do what I do. How else could I be traveling and writing about my adventures? Baby steps. I’ll get to the next level. It might surprise me how soon it happens. You never can tell. A year ago I wouldn’t have believed I would have had eight stories published or contracted. I felt so lost back then. A year ago, I was just about in St. George, UT, ready to put new tires on my credit account. I dug through the bus to get enough change to buy shoelaces because my old ones had snapped.
Like making a decent meal or fixing something that was broken, I feel a sense of accomplishment. Sometimes that’s all you need. If you are striving to make something good happen in your life, it’s always better to count your victories. Those are your mileposts. Not the bullshit holding you back.
Anyway, the grind is real, but I’m dealing with it. Maybe I’ll boil up some ramen for a late, late dinner. No wind in the forecast for tomorrow. I’ll get a chance to try out my fixed shower and rinse off some of this dirt.
Tomorrow is another day.