Bolivar Peninsula

I left Sea Rim State Park  and followed the road back north to Port Arthur and then back south to the outer reaches of the Bolivar Peninsula.

Reviews at Campendium for Bolivar Flats free beach were favorable.  When I arrived mid-morning, there were wide expanses of open beach.  Several groups of horse campers were set up on the right side of the beach where camping is allowed for a $10 permit.

On the left side of the beach were several large fifth wheels set up back towards the sand dunes.

I asked a senior gentlemen with the horse campers where I could buy a permit, and he said that I could get one at any of the local businesses–8 miles back.  But he told me that unless I had strong feelings about camping on the right side of the beach, the left side was totally free.  He said that the horse campers all had permits because they liked to support the public beach.  If there had been a donation box/ or self-serve area for permits, I  would have kicked in my $10, but there wasn’t so I didn’t.  I pulled in behind the fifth wheel campers close to the sand dunes.

This is strictly boondocking, but with some benefits.  There is one porta-potty, and  a lot of trash barrels set up along the beach.  Also, the local sheriff’s department regularly patrolled the beach to make sure everyone stayed in line.
The beach was spectacular, and the horses were fun to watch too.

I did have a bit of excitement on the first night.  Just after dark, four horses escaped from their corral/pen and galloped close by the Brew Hut, drawing frantic barking from Callie who knew they needed to be herded back where they belonged.    Pretty soon, several kids came running after the horses, drawing more barking.  Finally, two pick-up trucks joined the hunt.  The horses ran back and forth along the beach, having a great time.  Eventually, the galloping stopped.  A young woman from the horse camp confirmed the next morning that all horses were returned to their proper places.

The wind blew and blew that night.  In fact, it blew so hard that my refrigerator flame went out.  I got it back going the next morning, and then the wind shifted to the opposite direction but kept blowing just as hard.  During these days, high tide was around 12:40 p.m. (I looked it up on the internet).  The waves were within about 20 feet of the Scamp door at high tide.  The fifth wheel trailers backed out of the beach right around 12:45 p.m. If they would have left at 11 a.m., I would have followed, but I had a pretty good idea that the waves were as high as they were going to go by 12:45.  You can get an idea from these photos how close the gulf was.

Bolivar Flats was a great place to stay for two nights.  However, after about a week of beach along the Louisiana and Texas shore, I was ready to get some of the sand out of the Brew Hut and attend to a couple of maintenance issues.  On the next morning, I hitched up and headed for the Bolivar-Galveston Ferry.

Louisiana Gulf

Today,  I had a bit more excitement during the travel day that I would have liked.  The drive to the gulf from Indian Creek was only about two hours.  About half-way there,google maps sent me down a road that was not a major highway (short cut).  Unfortunately, there was high water on the road, and a waiting deputy sheriff advised that I go back. 

Now, if I was in a car, that would be no problem to turn around.However, there was water on both high water on both sides of the road, and turning around the Scamp just wasn’t possible.  I needed to back up about a mile to get to a spot to turn around.  Fortunately, there was no traffic or people to laugh at my long distance backing.

Even on the major highways, there was high water on both sides, but the road itself was dry.

We made a big circle around the flooded roads and eventually made it to the free beach. The weather was cloudy, but it was comfortable for beach walking.  The second adventure came when I decided to let Callie off-leash.  She has always stayed close to me at home, but we aren’t home.  Callie decided that it would be fun to play keep-away from me and would jump away every time I got close enough to try to put the leash back on her.

Eventually, and fortunately, she had to stop for number two, and I swooped in and attached the leash.  Callie let me know that she didn’t think that was fair, but at that point, all was fair.  We had a nice afternoon of sitting outside the Scamp. I read a book and drank a Lagunitas IPA, while Callie captured flies in the air and ate them.

It’s raining again, which projects to be a frequent occurrence over the next week.  No matter, I can hear the waves and see the gulf out my back window.  We’re going to hang here for a few days unless something changes.

Virgin River Recreation Area

From Pipe Springs National Monument, I drove west towards Hurricane, Utah. My plan was to disperse camp in the Hurricane, Utah area near Zion National Park. That didn’t work out. As I drove, I was checking out the access roads out to federal land. I didn’t see any roads that I wanted to drive out on, especially without knowing whether or not I could get turned around. Then I saw Sheep Bridge Road, a well-known boondocking spot that I had read about on Campendium and freecampsites.net.

I did a U-turn at the pull-off spot just past Sheep Bridge and pulled down into the road and past the bridge. So far, so good. The road was hard packed gravel. As I approached the first pull-off, I observed a van covered in red mud and deep tire ruts where they had pulled in. I wasn’t sure how they were going to get out again, but it didn’t look good. I passed several other better turn-outs, but those were already occupied by campers, and a few not-so-good turnoffs were also occupied, even though driving through mud and water was necessary to get to the spots.

I continued driving on the washboard roads at about 5 mph until I saw a left turn that didn’t look promising. I continued on, but didn’t see any more spots or places to turn around. I ended up backing up the Brew Hut several hundred yards to get turned around again. Then I drove back out with my tail between my legs (Elvis understood) and got back on the main road. Sheep Bridge Road wasn’t happening.

I had another dispersed camping spot on my possibles list, but it required driving to the Virgin Dam—about an hour away. There were only a few campsites reported at that location, and I just wasn’t in the mood to drive that far to find out that they were occupied too. More rain was forecast for that night, and conditions weren’t going to improve. I did a little more research in St. George, and found a couple of possible free sites towards Nevada.

Just as I crossed from Utah to a narrow strip of Arizona, I saw a brown sign proclaiming Virgin River Recreational area just off I-15. It seemed worth a stop and look. Sure enough, it was a BLM campground for only $8/night, beautiful mountains all around (despite the dark sky), flush toilets, running water, no hookups, but beautiful views. I pulled into a site overlooking the Virgin River and settled in.

I was more than a little surprised that this campground was over half-full when I arrived and completely filled by evening to the point that people were illegally camped in the picnic area below the next morning. Elvis and I hiked the campground loops several times, hung out at our picnic table overlooking the muddy river and mountains, hiked down to the river from the campground, and then tried to hike a trail leading from the picnic area below.

The trail was supposed to be 16 miles long, but we were stopped after less than a mile by a muddy river and fast-moving current. I don’t know if there are times of the year where the trail crosses a shallow or dry riverbed, but this wasn’t one of those times.

Elvis and I went back to the Brew Hut, where I cooked a thin sirloin steak to medium rare with mushrooms, onions, and toasted sourdough bread. I drank a bottle or two of Elysian Space Dust IPA (one of my new favorites), while Elvis ate dog food and licked my dinner plate as dessert (and pre-rinse before doing dishes). It rained for most of the evening and while I slept, but in the morning the sun was breaking apart the clouds. After granola with yogurt, I made coffee for the road. We were headed for Valley of Fire State Park.

Moab to Monticello, Utah

Sandy Flats was a great campsite, but I was ready for a change.  The “Alcove” campground was busy, and most of the people were there to ATV or do motor sports.  And everyone seemed to have an off-leash dog that wanted to compete for Alpha designation with on-leash Elvis.

Plan one was to disperse camp along Potash Road west of Moab about 50 minutes.  That plan didn’t work out.  The pavement turned to gravel and then to dirt.  Then the dirt road climbed steeply enough that I began to spin my wheels in two-wheel drive.  Okay, four-wheel drive would work.  The next big problem is that the few dispersed sites had steep drop-offs on the side of the road.  Although the Nissan is four-wheel drive and relatively high-clearance, the Brew Hut is not.  I wasn’t going to make it safely over that gap without scraping the bottom and my waste tank outlets.

The next problem was turning around because there were no turnarounds.  I walked ahead a mile and saw a couple of chances.  I took one of them, but as I backed the trailer, it tipped precariously at the edge of the drop-off.  I got it back on the road and did about a 50 point turnaround to get back headed the other way.

The very first spot had a minimal drop-off, and a big flat wide area to camp, but there was a huge motor home already there who had staked out the area for himself, including some huge foreign (Scandinavian?) flag on a big pole, establishing sovereignty.  I moved to the other side of the flat area and began setting up.  As I was leveling up,  Mr. Motorhome came out and asked why I had to camp so close.  I explained that I had been unable to cross the road gaps to the other sites.  He was having none of it.  “There are all kinds of sites up there,” said Mr. Motorhome who took the easy site and hadn’t been up the road, except in his tow-behind jeep.  I gave up easily and left the scene of Mr Motorhome’s claimed territories.

I drove back to the pavement and pulled in to a BLM (Bureau of Land Management) campground across from the Corona Arch Trailhead.  It was a nice 7-site campground with a host who kept the place clean and quiet.  The rate was $15 that day, but going up to a new rate of $20 the next day.  The host advised me to pay ahead if I wanted the old rate.  I paid for one night and kept the Brew Hut hitched up.

Speaking of the Brew Hut, my trip into the gravel and dirt roads, along with the precarious turn-around, trashed everything.  Screws and hinges came undone.  Granola cereal spilled from the pantry all over the floor.  The small amount of water in my kitchen washtub landed on my sleeping bag when the washtub decided to jump out of the sink. Sorry, there are no pictures.  It was not a scene rated for family viewing.

After cleaning things up and screwing things back in, Elvis and I sat outside the Brew Hut, sipped beverages, and took it easy.  I actually wanted to hike the trailhead across the road, but the temperatures were above 90, and it didn’t seem like a good idea.  The plan was to hike it early in the morning.  Then we woke to rain on the next day, so it was time to go.

We drove back to Moab and then south to Monticello, Utah, where we checked in during the rain at about 8:30 a.m.  I don’t know if I’ve been slumming it at other rv parks, but the Mountain View RV park in Monticello had the best bathrooms I’ve ever been in.  Private, clean, large, heated, and with unlimited hot water for the shower,  I think I was in there for at least an hour, washing away the hot, red dust from four days in Moab.  I did chores, cooked a medium-rare New York strip on the cast iron skillet, along with onions, mushrooms and sourdough bread., and had a couple of glasses of red Zinfandel.

My site was far enough from the road to be relatively quiet and  backed up to horses grazing.  Speedy wi-fi, good water, and a place to dump tanks.  The town of Monticello didn’t have a lot to offer in terms of looking around, but Elvis and I walked from the north end of town to the south end of town in between rain showers.

Rain and cold are forecast for the rest of the week.  We are going to continue south to the Arizona border and perhaps beyond before circling our way back into southern Utah.

Tibble Fork, Utah

After leaving Rock Springs, I made several changes in plans. Once I left Wyoming and entered Utah, I started looking for places to camp. Rockport State Park looked interesting and close to Interstate 80. Unfortunately, the State of Utah wanted $30 for a crappy little site without showers. If I can’t take a real shower, I’m not willingly paying $30.


I was now in prime T-mobile country, so I pulled over to look at my options. Antelope State Park had showers and a camping fee of $20. Unfortunately, as I approached Salt Lake City, the realization hit that I was going to have to drive north through Salt Lake and backtrack when I left the park. I’ve driven in a lot of big cities, but I was not having fun driving with a trailer in five lanes of interstate when they kept deleting my lane as the exit lane. When I should have gone north, I opted to go south.

After driving through most of Salt Lake, I pulled over for gas and looked at my choices. If I headed straight east from Lehi, I could drive into the Unita Wasatch-Cache National Forest, where there were several public campgrounds. I set my sights on the Mt. Timpanogos campground. As was getting close, the road started to steepen and narrow. A sign said not recommended for vehicles over 30 feet. I figured that neither my Scamp nor my truck was over 30 feet individually,but it was getting a little hairy. Rocks slides leaving debris in the middle of the road weren’t making it any easier.

When I arrived at the campground, they wanted $34 or some ridiculous amount, and it was for dry camping. I didn’t see any good campsites available so I drove up into a trailhead parking lot and talked with a young Forest Service employee who was writing tickets to people without user fee permits. She was apologetic about it, but she was still writing tickets. I had my America the Beautiful Pass so I wasn’t going to get a ticket.

I told her that it was my first trip up into her forest, and did she have any recommendations for campsites. She asked did I need a campground or was I looking for dispersed camping. I said that dispersed camping would work fine, especially given the camping fees. She explained that the campgrounds are run my an outside private company, and that they set the rates. She then offered two suggestions for dispersed camping; one was higher elevation and close; the other was lower elevation and a few miles away. Given that our conversation was taking place at 75000 feet in elevation, and that there was a crispness in the air that promised freezing temperatures that night, I chose the lower elevation.

To get to my site, I backtracked on Hwy 92 and turned off on Hwy 144 north to Tibble Fork. Where the pavement ends, the gravel begins. A short time later, a sign was posted indicated that dispersed camping for up to 14 days was permitted. I found my creekside campsite almost immediately after the sign. Normally, I would have driven further in, and I did walk the road later to see if there were better sites. However, this site ticked all the boxes for me. I could hear running water from the Brew Hut, and it wasn’t from my faucet. A beautiful mountain stream was less than 20 steps from my front door. The site was so level that I didn’t even need to unhook. I put up my rear stabilizers and was good to go.

I spent the afternoon taking walks, collecting solar power, reading, and preparing supper of leftovers (beef curry with noodles). Because my campsite is in the bottom of a narrow canyon, the sun set quickly behind the mountains, and the temperatures plummeted. I watched some downloaded Netflix after supper and had a glass of port. By nine pm, I was buried underneath my heavy sleeping bag, which kept me quite warm. The one negative to the campsite is that I am close to an atv and dirt bike road. I was amazed that they kept driving by well after dark. But by ten pm, they had either stopped or I simply fell asleep.

I woke at 7 am to the sound of Elvis doing his early morning shake to awake. 35 degrees in the Brew Hut. Not cold enough to freeze the water tanks, but that set a new record for this trip. After eating hot oatmeal and making coffee, Elvis and I took to the trails. A trailhead for the Mill Canyon Trail (#040) was less than 100 yards from our campsite. We ended up hiking beyond the end of the Trail on part of the Ridge Trail for a total of 8.5 miles and an elevation gain of 1500 feet. At 7500 feet in elevation, we found patches of frost. At the beginning of the hike, I had several layers of clothing on and wished for a hat and gloves (that I didn’t bring). But the steep ascent quickly warmed things up, and I was back to a t-shirt by the time we arrived back around noon. We saw deer, turkeys, and vultures.

We passed the afternoon blogging, reading, and enjoying the sound of the creek. I could easily stay here for a week. But there is so much to see and do in Utah.  In the morning, our problem tire was giving us more problems.  We are headed for tire service and an oil change.

Flaming Gorge, Days Two and Three

My campsite has been so quiet until this morning that I’ve almost felt like I’m not supposed to be here. There is a gate leading down to the beach road that can be closed and locked. I hope that someone lets me know if the beach season suddenly ended without locking me inside this little corner of paradise.

I discovered a boat launch about a mile away by road walk and about one-half mile by a little-used trail. There are heated bathrooms with flush toilets here, along with a fish cleaning station with the water still on. I haven’t seen any boats launch from here, but there was a bit of boat traffic on the water late yesterday afternoon.

After our early morning hike, coffee and breakfast, blogging, and reading, the temperatures gradually rose throughout the day. I took a sirloin steak out of the freezer to defrost and decided to take Elvis to the water to cool off. Now, Elvis is 75% golden retriever and 25% poodle. You would think such a dog would be a natural swimmer., but that’s not the case. Elvis will sniff at the water like it’s some kind of trap, trying to get him. Because he was so hot, I was going to force the issue a bit. I started throwing sticks into the edge of the water, and he would tentatively go out and retrieve them—only realizing after he got back to shore that his legs were wet. How did that happen?

Finally, I started throwing the sticks out further in the water. He refused to go completely under, letting those sticks float away. But he did get in far enough to get his legs, underside and chest wet, which cooled him off and reinvigorated Elvis. He started running up and down the beach like a greyhound, shaking the water off and acting reborn.

After that excitement, I returned to the Brew Hut for my last beer (we didn’t bring much with us), reading on my Kindle, and then feeding Elvis. It was too hot to cook inside and too windy to cook outside, so I prepared a late dinner after the sun went down, cooling things off. I dined on sautéed spinach with garlic, mushrooms in butter, and one-third of a large sirloin steak. I saved the remainder for two more meals.

Early the next day, Elvis was primed to hike. We made a big circle around the area before coming back to the Brew Hut to brew coffee. As I went outside with my cup of steaming Brazilian, I walked around the other side of the Brew Hut and discovered an old, beater car parked less than 50 yards away. It was parked on a steep angle, and there was no evidence of condensation on the windows (which would mean someone was probably sleeping inside. My mind started racing. Stolen car? Hidden dead bodies? I walked closer, took a quick photo of the license plate, and then looked inside.

“What the F do you think you are looking at?” shouted a male voice. I turned around and discovered a young man fishing just below the cliff on which the Brew Hut was parked. “Oh, sorry, sorry,” I said retreating. “I didn’t notice you drive up and was surprised that someone parked so close to my camp.”
He didn’t respond or necessarily seem accepting of my explanation. The fisherman apparently caught no fish and moved on about twenty minutes later.

When your closest camping neighbor is one-half mile away, the sight of a strange car and a profane encounter leaves one a bit off-balance. Another cup of coffee and morning views of my herd of pronghorns provided the antidote.

The rest of the day went without incident, and we enjoyed a very quiet evening.  On the next morning, my original plans to drive to Moab shifted when I discovered one of the truck tires was low.  This gave me a chance to try out the new portable air compressor which attaches to the battery and reaches long enough for any of the truck’s tires.  After a some trial and error, the small machine worked the way it was supposed to, although it did heat up markedly. I decided to return to Rock Springs to resupply at Wal-Mart and do my first Wal-Mart stay-over in the parking lot.  I checked with the manager and he pointed out the proper part of the lot to park the Brew Hut.

Resupplied with beer, food, and toiletries, we are ready for the next part of the journey.  Hopefully, the truck tire cooperates.

Flaming Gorge, Days One and Two

After breaking camp above Green River, Elvis and I backtracked to Rock Springs to post blogs, download newspapers and podcasts, and gas up. Then we drove south of Interstate 80 to the Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area.

The campgrounds in this area are quite popular and subject to reservation. I was a little bit worried that the campgrounds would be full, but I had a boondocking back-up plan. Upon arriving at Firehole Campground, I knew right away my my concern was misplaced. Not only was the campground empty of campers, it was closed for the season and gated. Hmmmm.

Time for the back-up plan. There were forest dirt/gravel roads all around the campground, and someone on the Campendium website mentioned camping without any problems at the beach close to the campground. The beach had several attributes, including beautiful views, potential swimming opportunities, and pit toilets.

The beach also had several downsides. Many of the “camping spots” were on soft, sandy ground. Getting stuck would not have been fun. The ground was sloping, and the best solid spot that I could find was not very level. I decided to make the best of it and set up camp anyway. Elvis and I hiked up and down the beach and across many of the gravel roads between the beach and the campground. In the process, I found a couple of other spots that seemed to work also. I noticed that the original beach area was extremely windy with blowing sand. In the afternoon, the trailer was already rocking and rolling, promising an interesting night.

So I bailed on the original site, prepared the Brew Hut for travel again, and moved about a half mile down a narrow, rutted road to a large turn-around circle that was gravel and appeared to be used as a campsite previously (evidence of bonfires). This was much better. Less windy, I had the Brew Hut situated so that the door was on the opposite of the direction of the wind, so that it was comfortable to sit outside and read.

I had already decided that it was going to be hamburger night, so the patties were sitting out to defrost by the sink. As I prepared dinner, I noticed that the temperature of the fridge was rising. Now I’ve had problems in the past regulating the temperature of the fridge, but it was always on the cold side, freezing food that shouldn’t be frozen. Hmmm. A half hour later, the temperature was 45, and I knew that something was wrong. Apparently, the gale-force wind had blown out the propane flame that keeps the fridge cold. At least, that was my first theory.

I followed the procedure for relighting the fridge. That process is not user-friendly. There is a tiny hole at the bottom of the fridge which is supposed to tell you if the flame is lit or not. The only problem is that flame is impossible to see during the daylight, leaving two options. The first option is to wait until it’s dark. The second option is to check a metal tube in the outside compartment to see if it’s getting hot. Either option takes time, and I was impatient to find out whether the fridge flame was out or if it was just dead. Fortunately, after about 30 minutes, the metal tube was warming up. I dialed down the fridge to colder. In the morning, it was back to normal, freezing food that it shouldn’t. I dialed the fridge back to low.

There is only one other camper within sight, and he's about half mile away. Temperatures fall into the mid 30’s at night and climb up into the 70’s during the day. Mornings are less windy, and the ample sun allows me to charge up all of my devices and top off the battery. Unless weekend partiers arrive, this spot seems like a great place to spend a few days.

The header shows a herd of pronghorn, I believe. They are frequent visitors to the nearby water but are very skittish. Unlike deer in Wisconsin, they stay tightly packed together and move as one when running. We’ve also seen lots of rabbits, birds and snake skins (but no snakes yet). The closed campground is accessible by trail. The water spigots have been turned off, but the convenient dumpsters remain. A sign indicates that the campground closed on September 15^th. I’ve not smelled any smoke here. The air is clear and clean.

That’s all the news at Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area…

Wild Horse Canyon Road

I am camped in the mountains (7300’ elevation) overlooking Green River, a small town in southern Wyoming. The directions to this site were quite simple: drive on Wild Horse Canyon Road past the Hampton Inn and continue up the road beyond the pavement to the top of the hill. At first, I was worried that the road up the hill would be steep, but it was not. The gradual grade was bumpy but fairly easy. Once at the top, a dirt road cuts off to the right where there are several campsites within a half mile. At that point, the road becomes deeply rutted and plunges more steeply down.

I chose a big wide campsite that looks directly down on Interstate 80, Green River and the railroad tracks. Due to the distance, the road noise isn’t bad, and the sound of the trains was soothing to wake up to. The gravel road on top of the mountain goes about 30-some miles, and there are reportedly wild horses to be seen. I chose to remain at my campsite, to read, and to prepare a supper of scrambled eggs with fried tortillas, onion, and tomato.

As evening crept in, I could see a couple of small bumps on the horizon on top of the next crest. My binoculars confirmed that the bumps were actually two wild horses. Elvis and I set off on a walk along the road and were able to get close enough to the horses that we were both getting a little nervous. I think the horses are probably used to fending themselves from coyotes and wolves. Elvis must have seemed a strange-looking canine that they weren’t going to mess around with. The bigger horse started approaching us, stamping feet. We decided that we were close enough (although a better camera with zoom would have captured the moment), so we slowly backed away and then and then turned around back to the campsite. Both parties seemed satisfied with the conclusion.

Just before turning in, I noticed a large fire off in the distance, creating considerable smoke. I asked an older couple passing by on an ATV if they knew about it and whether it was anything to be concerned about. Yes, they said, it’s about a three-hour drive to that fire, and you can rest easy tonight. I would never have guessed that the fire was more than 100 miles away, but I did sleep well.

In the morning, temperatures had cooled off to the lower 40’s, and I could smell the fairly strong odor of smoke for the first time during my trip. By the time I finished breakfast and coffee, the odor was gone. Nevertheless, this stop will be a short one. We will continue south.