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Much as we’d love to drive around visiting friends month after month, there is the matter of earning a living to be considered. Eating is fun, after all. After putting out feelers for any other workamping jobs and getting several responses, we decided to take the position offered at the Big Pine Campground in Custer, South Dakota.
Another unexpected oasis was found in Boise, Idaho. If asked, we’d have said the closest noise-fixes available were in Las Vegas or Seattle, but no! Boise’s got a place to go as well. The Terrapin Station hosts Nocturnum on Sunday nights. Read More → It wasn’t a small detour, from Salt Lake City to Boise, but it was well worth it to see good friends we hadn’t seen for almost a year. You wouldn’t think there’s much to do in Boise (actually Nampa), Idaho, but the presence of dear friends can turn any town into a must-see destination. Read More → In Salt Lake City, we found our way to the aptly-named Sanctuary at Area 51, which is definitely one of the most active clubs we’ve been to in a while. Area 51 is open five nights a week, with a slightly different–but always alternative–format every night. Looking for goth, industrial and similar noise? Show up on Tuesday, “Sanctuary” Thursday, “Dungeon” Friday or “Subculture” Saturday. Did someone tell you that the folks in Utah are too conservative to have a goth scene? They were wrong: Sanctuary has been open for about eight years. We worked hard at the Silver Jack, but it apparently wasn’t hard enough, and right before the Fourth of July, Terry called us together and told us it wasn’t working out. Just like that, we were done and we had to go.
This is, unfortunately, one of the perils of a workampers’ position; since we are, basically, glorified migrant labor, we don’t have any kind of a contract or guarantee of employment, and some employers are not kind enough to even offer a decent warning that their expectations aren’t being met. Lexie and I did what we thought was the best job we could, but the boss didn’t agree and that was that. I could go on at length about it, but won’t. What’s done is done. We didn’t fret. With the summer heat starting to kick in, we were beginning to wonder, in fact if staying in Baker through July and August was going to be as fun as it initially sounded like. The crew of the Incorrigible quickly turned its attention to finding a new place to roost (it was, after all, two days before the Fourth of July weekend, when every RV park within a hundred miles was likely to be full) and finding a new source of income. We lucked into a space near the Prospector casino in Ely, and from there we headed back toward Salt Lake City. As long as we were adrift, we figured we might as well go and visit Jim. Hey, if nothing else, we were glad to have working cell phones again.
Making lemonade from lemons turned out to be the right plan, and we forgot all about Baker within a few days. We spent a few days at the very nice Circle-L mobile home community in Layton, Utah, just a few miles north of SLC, and were able to hang out with Jim and his wife Kathie. The Salt Lake City area is gorgeous, with craggy mountains looming over the city to the east and a bustling downtown. A trip to one of the massive Deseret Industries thrift stores yielded some new clothes, and we took ample advantage of the availability of suburban luxuries like Thai food, Office Max superstores and of course Wendy’s. While we were there, Lexie got a motorcycle-riding lesson from Jim, something that’s been on our list of things to accomplish this year. The hope is that we’ll eventually be carrying a motorcycle on the back of the Incorrigible as a second dinghy vehicle. Emmy’s not as interested in motorcycle lessons, but will always jump at the chance to ride pillion for a while, and Jim was happy to give rides well into the evening–including one banner night during which Jim and I rode the Harley to the club! Back in the realm of the real world, we quickly found another workamping job, in South Dakota. The timing gave us a few days to detour back west, to visit more friends in Boise, Idaho, as well. So far, getting fired from the Silver Jack has turned out to be the gateway to some of the best things that have happened this summer! Just over the border into Utah (Baker is less than ten miles from the edge of Nevada) we found some fascinating dried lakebeds, perfect for shooting pretty pictures.
What more is there to say?
I always do some car-spotting when we’re traveling, but Ely had an unusually high population of interesting vehicles, so I thought I’d share. Read More → Here’s a quick recap of the Incorrigible’s maintenance issues this past spring, in case you were curious: Back in March, we lost water pressure completely inside the coach. Investigation quickly revealed that water was pouring out the side of the motorhome, coming out of the hot water heater. Our hot water heater’s relief valve had let go. This valve controls the pressure within the heater, and when it wears out, it becomes an uncontrolled drain on the side of the heater. As long as the hot water heater was turned off, we could get water inside the RV, but this meant no hot water whatsoever. We turned the water off, and got acquainted with the Highway 71 RV Park’s very nice shower facilities. A bit of research showed that a replacement valve would cost about $28, while getting a service facility to install it would run an additional $250, at least. So I decided to try and install it myself. Help was quickly obtained from online sources. Should you ever attempt this repair yourself, it sounds incredibly simple–just unscrew the old valve and install the new one with some plumber’s tape to keep it from leaking. It’s the caveats that are the thing. First, wait at least twenty-four hours, so the water in the tank can cool. The reason for this becomes quickly obvious when you experience the second caveat, which is that the water will be under a bit of pressure.
“A bit of pressure” does not adequately describe the geyser that will soak you from the breastbone up as soon as the relief valve is broken free. If I had not followed the advice about letting the water cool, I’d have had my face boiled clean off. Fortunately, it was more funny than upsetting, and water pressure was quickly restored with minimal cost. We still have a fitting under the sink that is seeping when hooked into city water pressure or if the pump was left on, but the addition of a pressure regulator on our water inlet line seems to have mostly taken care of it. City water pressure is notorious for being too much for RV systems to handle in many places, so be careful about screwing a hose into your water system and letting ‘er rip. Not so easily solved was the power-step issue. Just before the NuRVers rally, our entrance door steps stopped extending, without warning. The motor was running as it was supposed to, but the steps didn’t move. Investigation revealed a broken actuator arm. This aluminum piece had corroded over time, and there’s no telling what impact or resistance caused it to snap. It doesn’t look like an easy repair, especially as the actuator is permanently attached to a part of the step motor, without an easy way to remove it. We’re currently looking into inexpensive replacement parts. For the moment, a $13 Rubbermaid folding stepstool is enough to get us in and out of the house without drama. Remember all of those minor window leaks we complained about a while back? Most of them have been solved with a bit of DIY action. Camping World’s leak test showed that the moldings of most of our side windows were on the way out. Given the Incorrigible’s age, this wasn’t a surprise, but at about $220 a pop to fix them, redoing them was a daunting prospect. Poking around online, we figured out that the process requires more elbow grease than special tools or materials, so we undertook it ourselves.
Basically, it’s like re-doing the windows in a house: you remove the window, replace the sealing material, then put the window back. Unlike the windows in a house, of course, an RV’s windows can be removed with a screwdriver and a butter knife.
The window frames are a metal sandwich, held together by about thirty small screws each. With two people (one inside, one outside) removal isn’t that difficult. We did them one at a time, and got through most of the Incorrigible’s windows in a single day.  Water damage visible with the window removed. Pretty gross, eh? If you’re going to try this yourself, a few tips: first, make sure you get the proper butyl “tape” window sealant. The stickier, heavier stuff from an RV dealer will work better than the generic “window sealant” from a hardware store, and it comes in a roll.
Second, be sure to scrape as much of the old sealant as possible from the window frames and the surface of the window opening. The registration cards we got from the RVIA event back in November were handy for this. Third, ensure that the tape goes down with a solid, flat seal with no breaks–any break in the sealant will allow water to seep in. In some areas that get a lot of water, like the upper edges of the front windows where water drains off of the roof, we added a second layer of butyl tape.
When the window frame is reassembled, some of the tape will be squeezed out the edges, and can be trimmed off with a razor blade or putty knife. The stuff is very tarry, especially when it gets warm, and it likes to smudge and smear all over the exterior if you’re not careful. We’ve been happy with the results, however, and got it done for just the cost of the butyl tape. Currently, the Incorrigible’s only major leak is on the ceiling, where Fun Time RV did a poor job of installing our Carrier heat pump. We’ve called a few times about hopefully getting a repair, but they haven’t called us back for two months. Guess we’re on our own.
We’ll need a new headliner and a re-sealed rooftop opening soon. Lexie took some time to re-do the grab handle by the front door as well. The last bastion of ugly blond wood in the RV, we’d been looking for a replacement for the grab handle for a while. When it became clear that we weren’t going to find a new one that fit our needs, Lexie removed the existing handle and broke out the decoupage. A few outdated road maps and a pair of scissors later, we had a cool, sort of thematic door handle. Last (and least, for the moment) are the rig’s furnace issues. We had some repairs to the unit done while we were in Michigan, but it’s still acting up. Our first clue that something was amiss was when the furnace wouldn’t shut off on a chilly night in Austin. With the heat set at 65, the furnace churned and churned all the way up to 88 degrees in the moho, with no signs of intending to stop. When we turned the unit off, it continued to blow. We had to pull the fuse to get it to stop! Plugging it back in yielded similar results; the furnace won’t come on for an inordinately long time, and when it does, it won’t shut off until power is cut. Rather than wasting our LPG, we shut the silly thing off and visited General RV while we were in Michigan. Repairs to the t-stat were made, and they said they tested it and it worked. It did–for one night. After that, the furnace refused to come on at all. While disappointing, it was by this time warm enough that our Carrier heat pump (the unit up front isn’t controlled by the wall thermostat) could keep us comfortable inside, and we didn’t have time for General RV to screw with it any further. Besides, we’re headed for the desert. The matter of the furnace can be tabled until, oh, August or so. Actually, given our plans to spend the fall and winter in Las Vegas and environs, it might be tabled indefinitely. Upon arrival in Baker, Lexie took one look at the horizon and shouted, “Holy crap! Mountains!” Living at the foot of Mt. Wheeler provides a pleasant view every morning. It also makes the weather interesting; most of the precipitation is caught by the mountain, and Baker sees very little rain. Actually, it sees plenty of rain, it just doesn’t land here. Most storms blow themselves out before they get over the top of the 13,000-foot peak.
There’s definitely a lot to see here. The terrain is unfamiliar, and as a result, it seems there’s always something new to go and look at. The flora and fauna are different, as well; the mornings are scented by sagebrush, and I saw my first badger.
Around the Silver Jack there are gopher snakes (which look like rattlers but aren’t poisonous) and cheerful blue swallows (not sure of the species–birdwatchers?).
There are at least two nesting pairs of swallows living in the eaves in the Silver Jack’s courtyard, which made for great entertainment when the babies were learning to fly while Lexie and I cleaned hotel rooms. It seemed like there were little blue birds darting about everywhere we turned! There are also hummingbirds, and Baker is so quiet that you can actually hear them as well as watching them at the feeder. They sound like the biggest bumblebees you ever heard, and they make little squeaky-toy noises. Before Lexie arrived, I went snowshoeing with the Silver Jack’s proprietor Terry. Snowshoeing? Never tried it before; why not?
Great Basin National Park is literally right next door to Baker, and while it’s the least-visited of the national parks, there’s plenty to see.
Though it was mid-May, the snow was still fairly deep at 10,000 feet–deep enough to bury the hiking trail markers in fact! The climb was exhausting, thanks to lungs which hadn’t yet adjusted to being a mile above sea level, but it was well worth it; gnarled bristlecone and limber pine trees, amazing vistas and the eerie dead-silence of a vast uninhabited area were ample reward for the effort.
The mountain is home to mountain lions, but I didn’t see one. This is not a complaint.
The trees are twisted and folded by wind and ice. Tough things. The bristlecone pines can live up to 3000 years. Our summer job, and first work-camp job, took us to the Silver Jack Inn and Lectrolux Café in Baker, Nevada.  Not the Silver Jack Inn. Just cool scenery. The Silver Jack job caught our eye in a large part because of the community–Baker, Nevada is a city of just 52 people, located on the edge of the Great Basin national park. It’s a creative community too, with many artists in town. It’s a “cool” place, and the Silver Jack Inn epitomizes this nicely. It’s a popular stop with adventure motorcyclists and cross-country bicyclists who are following Highway 50, better known as “America’s Loneliest Road.” The Silver Jack is a small, ten-room hotel with a comfortably lived-in feeling and gardens full of found sculpture and collected folk-art pieces. Tent camping is also available. There’s an antique and gift shop out back, and of course the Lectrolux Café, which would feel right at home if it were dropped whole into San Francisco, Austin, Royal Oak (MI), or any number of other hip metropolitan locales. The Lectrolux (which means Lexie and I, as well as the owner Terry) serves up espresso, hand-ground coffee and a wide range of “house-mad” baked goods that are whipped up from scratch. A plethora of microbrew beers, including Utah favorite “Polygamy Porter,” fill the cooler, as well as a selection of wines. Not in the mood for greasy road burgers? The Lectrolux Café has handmade burritos, fresh salads and pizza that are a convenient antidote. Terry even shows free movies on a big screen in the restaurant, when he feels like it.
And that’s where Lexie and I have fetched up for the moment. In addition to cleaning hotel rooms and learning to wait tables, we’ve been doing a lot of baking and kitchen prep, learning to make the Lectrolux’s fresh salsa, pumpkin-chocolate chip cookies, four-berry coffee cake and blueberry muffins. Lexie and I are fish out of water, in some ways. Obviously, there’s the town. I took classes in college that had more people in them than Baker. As soon as we arrived, people knew our names. It’s a tiny, tiny place. The nearest city is Ely, 65 miles to the west, a trip that takes us over two mountain ranges. That’s where the closest grocery store, hardware store, and, well, pretty much anything are. And Ely isn’t very big itself; only about 5000 people. Wal-Mart? Applebee’s? Ely knows not these things. To find the chain stores that we’re so used to seeing on the landscape, we’ve got to drive 3 hours to Salt Lake City. This is both good and bad. It’s refreshing to be so far from everything. Baker is quiet, and safe enough that we can leave our doors unlocked and our bikes sitting outside without concern. On the other hand, if you unexpectedly run out of ibuprofen or eggs, or have a craving for a slice of cheesecake…well, it’s not exactly a quick hop to the store, and it’ll cost you half a tank of gas to boot. We quickly learned to plan a weekly trip to Ely, and to plan it well! Monthly trips to Salt Lake City for a K-Mart/Wal-Mart/civilization “fix” are probably in the cards as well. In truth, this is a minor inconvenience. Being in Baker is a nice test run for spending some time completely off the grid, should we ever want to boondock in a really remote location. And we might. The Incorrigible’s not quite ready for that kind of expedition yet, so the practice is welcome. Then, of course, there’s the desert. The air’s remarkably clean, but it took some time to get our lungs used to the altitude! Word of advice to flatlanders planning to spend extended periods of time in the mountains: iron supplements are good. Luckily, living in the RV already has us water-conscious: Baker is one of the driest cities in the U.S. The good news is that it hasn’t gotten hot yet. There’s also a lot to see, when we aren’t working. More on that later. |
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