Being Carefree in, where else? Carefree, AZ

After leaving San Diego, we turned our trusty RV toward Arizona. The first night we only drove as far as El Centro, California, where we found a perfectly delightful RV park snuggled in alongside a golf course, itself lying next to a small lake. Since we were about the only transient folks in the park, we saw only a handful of others. The rest had evidently pulled up stakes and headed for cooler climes.

When we left El Centro the next morning we headed slightly east then north toward Quartzite, Arizona, a place we came to realize was a favorite of the off-road crowd who were camped everywhere dunes were to be found. Every passing truck or motor home was pulling a trailer full of "toys" and every distant dune top contained some sort of off road vehicle.

Carefree is located near Scotsdale, though a little higher in elevation and further away from the population center. Marc has just this past month managed to pull off a major coup and purchase a 4-bedroom, 4-bath house in a wonderful neighborhood full of slump stone, ranch-style haciendas, an incredible galaxy of native plants, and carefully yet rustically manicured yards. The temperature while we were there was just as close to perfect as one may find on planet earth, with cool nights and warmish days that just beg you to talk a walk and pick out your future home away from home.

Of course, the Scotsdale environs are only heaven on earth for seven or eight months of the year. After that, it gets blast furnace hot and defies you to venture forth from the confines of your air conditioned quarters. But that's why God created snowbirds. Still, if you wanted a place to escape the unpredictable winters in northern climes you could do no better than to dash right down to Carefree, Arizona, and plant your flag in the front yard of some house with a "for sale" sign and go find the realtor to arrange the sale.

Marc and Nancy, Concetta's nephew and his wife, are in Arizona because Nancy was transferred by her company to the Scotsdale office. Marc, an electrician, is probably going to find ample work since he's so close to urban Phoenix. I suspect that Marc is going to have all the work he can handle once he gets established.

So, for the past couple of days we've been vegging at Marc and Nancy's house, just kicking back, enjoying adult refreshments, and watching a veritable marathon of American Pickers on the tube. Mark gave us a wonderful tour yesterday of downtown Carefree, which, to some extent, has suffered just as much as everywhere else as far as business closings go. Still, we were just very impressed with the little town for its upscale shops, streets free of litter, and remarkable absence of graffiti.


This morning, after a large helping of Mark's famous oatmeal, a terrific slice of home-grown grapefruit courtesy the neighbor across the street, and some downright unforgettable freshly-ground coffee, we unplugged our lifeline from Marc's garage, took the RV off the blocks, and headed down the hill in the direction of the Carefree highway (don't you just love saying that?). After filling the tanks, both gasoline and propane, we set out to find Highway 17 which runs toward Flagstaff.

For most of the early part of the day we just cruised and listened to our David Baldacci murder mystery on the CD player. The closer we got to northern Arizona the redder the dirt became. A few miles south of Flagstaff we caught sight of references to Sedona. Since neither one of us had every been to Sedona we took the off-ramp and began our trek up Highway 179 in search of our quarry.

Wow! We knew Sedona was popular, but we were unprepared for the quantity of fellow vacationers we encountered. Fortunately, we arrived at our AAA-recommended camp site and managed to get a two-day gig. The chap standing just behind me was only able to get a one-day spot. That's how busy this place is.

Tomorrow we'll be seeing just what sights we can take in up the road in town. Hopefully, we'll find some place to experience Sedona without having to climb over other globe trekkers to do it.

Now for the bad news: while maneuvering the rig into position in our camp tonight I "kissed" the cab-over into a inconveniently-located tree limb and crunched the fiberglass. I suspect it's going to take someone very talented to fix it but hopefully if we don't get any downpours I can keep the coach weather tight with some strategically-placed plastic and tape.

Still, you know what they say, no pain no gain. We've already experienced some wear and tear on the coach in the form of a fractured rooftop fridge cover up in Montana last fall. I know I'm going to occasionally bang this truck up a bit since it's so damn long, but anything is fixable with enough time, talent, and money and we'll just have to tough it out and get it fixed when we get home. It's either that, or we can drive it up to the Dakotas and find a oil rig worker who desperately needs a place to live, sell it him, and then fly home. The thought crossed my mind.

Anyway, that's all for now. Take care and don't let the bangs and scrapes of life keep you off the highways. Go out and do it...NOW!





Wow!