I decided to join some actual nomads and play at being a mendicant (instead of the bougie owner of 2.5 homes that I actually am).

So I trekked out to Quartzite, AZ, which acquired some fame due to a book and film entitled “Nomadland”. Many truly homeless people come in their vehicles to boondock in the desert for months on end. They’ve formed their own community, bartering goods and knowledge. It’s also the location of the annual Rubber Tramp Rendezvous, so I made the pilgrimage here to see if I could connect with like minded folks.

I’d heard it described as Burning Man for old people living in their vans, but my experience has been much more humble than that. A few speakers gave talks about safe solo travel, solar power, and van mechanics. But not a lot in terms of music, entertainment or food options. I spoke with a few travelers, who were surprisingly more diverse than I expected, so that was the most interesting aspect.

The day I arrived though, most of the events were finishing up, so I went in search of a place to park the rig for the night. I’m a bit of a camping princess, and so’s the Nomad Moon. I have enough battery power and water and can live without a shower for a few days. There are, however, some things I won’t do in my porta-potty; I require at least a pit toilet. The Nomad Moon does not like driving far on rutted dirt roads either, as it has very low clearance underneath due to the generator. So we’d make lousy boondockers (“dry campers”).

I found the recommended primitive campground and drove around looking for the perfect spot, among hundreds of trailers and vans. I picked a site within a 2 minute walk of the pit toilet.

It was a cold and windy night out in the desert but I was cozy in the van. Around 6:00 AM I decided to venture out to the toilet in my PJs and Birkenstocks, with my cell phone as a flashlight. The moon was a glowing orange globe and the desert landscape took my breath away. Unfortunately the bathroom was not lighted and I wandered around looking for it for a while before giving up and heading back to the van. There being no formally marked campsites among the acres of desert, I became quite disoriented and walked for a good 45 minutes before finding a different bathroom. I was quite cold by then. I figured I could wait in the bathroom till sunrise and then maybe have better luck finding my way back. But even as light appeared in the horizon I was still hopelessly lost.

I don’t know how the Israelites did it. No wonder Moses wandered for 40 years!

Appearing like some Dickensonian apparition, I beseeched an octogenarian Canadian named Ted to have mercy on me. We drove around for another half hour in his truck until we finally found my van. Ted was the hero of the day!