Category: Trips

Boonie camping by the numbers

We’re on the last day of our 14-day retreat at Mancos State Park.  Our longest stay at a campground with no hookups, it has proven to be an excellent experiment in water, sewer and electrical usage.

As for water, we’ve used a bit over 100 gallons, all of which was hand carted in five-gallon jerry cans from a spigot located about 25 yards away.  We fully filled the trailer’s 50-gallon freshwater on our arrival and topped it up twice more.

As for the “used” water, I’ve made four roundtrips pulling our sewer tote to the dump station – two carrying black water and two with gray.  We’ll dump all our tanks directly into the dump station drain when we leave the campground tomorrow morning. 

Last time we were at Mancos (a 13-day stay) we had the pair of anemic, lead-acid batteries that came with the trailer.  Each was rated for 75 AH (amp hours).  The general rule with batteries like these is to never let them go below 50% of capacity.  With lights, water pump, furnace fan, computers and camera charging, we found that we were using over 40 AH daily. 

That meant we had to fully recharge the batteries daily.  We spent every second day stuck in camp moving solar panels around to keep the batteries happy.  We even pulled out our generator (I hate generators) and ran that for a few hours one day trying to recharge the batteries.

Immediately after that trip, I installed a 200-AH lithium iron phosphate RV battery, a converter/charger specifically designed for lithium batteries and reset our solar controller for lithium charging.  What a difference.  A few hours of direct sunlight and our new battery was charged to 100% capacity.

Of course, that requires the sun to be out, which it was for the first 10 days of our stay.  Then the rains came and for three solid days, we didn’t see the sun.  Instead of kicking in 225+ watts of power into the solar controller, our combined trio of panels sucked in less than 10 watts from the leaden sky. 

On the middle of the third day, our battery monitor indicated we had used over 140 AH of battery power.   Our former batteries would have been virtually dead.  The new lithium battery was still kicking out a comfortable 13 volts of power.  We didn’t need to worry about dipping below the 50% threshold because that restriction doesn’t apply to lithium RV batteries.

Tomorrow morning, we move to Ridgway State Park where we will have an electrical hookup.  With a nearby water spigot, we should be able to refill our freshwater tank with a hose.  There’s no sewer, so we’ll still have to tote our “used” water down a long hill to the dump station.  But with thirty-amps of 120-volt power feeding in, we won’t have to worry about battery charging and solar panel placement.

This is why we camp…

The skies cleared and on our last night at Mancos, the moon hadn’t yet come up and we were treated to a black velvet sky diamond-dusted with shimmering stars.  From our campsite, we could see the Milky Way streaking between the towering Ponderosa pines.  It’s nice staying in a campground with fewer sites and with no electric hookups feeding bulbs, emblazoning the sky with artificial light.

The view looking toward the dam from the north end of the reservoir was equally appealing.

Third stop – Ridgway

For the third stop on our triple-header camping trip, we headed to Ridgway State Park for a two-week stay.  Our campsite is two spots down from where we camped last year and three down from our 2018 site.  I guess we’re fond of this loop.

Located just off the San Juan Skyway, about a dozen miles north of Ouray, the park attracts a lot of visitors from the Lone Star State (and elsewhere) who arrive in their gargantuan motor homes and fifth-wheel trailers.  So long was our current neighbor’s trailer, he couldn’t pull it through the curving pull-through site and had to back in.  It makes us happy we bought small.

Ridgway State Park surrounds Ridgway Reservoir, a good-sized pond behind a dam on the Uncompahgre River.  When we were here last July, the reservoir was full.  Kids frolicked at the swim beach and folks fished from a shoreline gazebo.  Not now.  There’s no water at the now closed swim beach and the shoreline gazebo now towers high on the slope, far from the water.  A ranger lady says it’s like this every year.

When we arrived here a week ago, the air was clear and the scenery spectacular.  Our first hike was to Lower Blue Lake at the base of Mt. Sneffels.  Dianne and I looked down on Lower Blue Lake and its upper sibling from the top of 14,157-foot summit of Mt. Sneffels a few years ago.  This time, we gazed up at the far away summit from the pond below.  Sensing movement atop the mountain, I pulled out the binoculars and saw at least two climbers looking down.  I waved.

A few camo-clad hunters parked in the Blue Lakes Trailhead parking lot reminded us that it’s bow and muzzle loader hunting for elk and bear.  Bow hunters need to get close to their targets before firing, we were assured, so they would know we weren’t prey.  Still, we decided to take no chances.  We drove 20 miles into Montrose and bought flame-orange caps and vests to wear on our next hike into the woods. 

After two days of clear skies, the California smoke discovered our new location and blew in to obscure the landscape.  Distant views looked like they were wrapped in waxed paper and the sun set as a ball that was more glowing orange than our don’t-shoot-me caps and vests.  The smoke has been constantly fogging the views since then.

Our next hike took us up the Dexter Creek Trail, a long, continuous ascent up a valley northeast of Ouray.  The scenic views were hazy, but we did encounter some early fall color and passed by a pair of old mines holding the rusting remains of abandoned machinery.  We wore our vivid orange vests, but only saw one hunter on his way out.  He didn’t shoot.

Today, we drove into Ridgway on a goose chase.  Galloping Goose #4 has been moved from Telluride, where it wastes away on a downtown street, to the Ridgway Railroad Museum where it will spend the winter under cover.  Before heading back, we stopped at the market for a few emergency supplies, such as more microwave popcorn packets. 

While Dianne was shopping, I photographed a street-side Trump rally.  There was nary a face covering to be seen. 

Back home again

When we left home, we set a goal of both hiking and biking a minimum of 100 miles.  We achieved both, covering 101 miles on foot (not counting walks around the campground) and 124 miles atop two wheels.  In addition to the fun of pedaling and perambulating, I had work to do.

Just before leaving on our trip, I received an assignment to do a series of short features for Colorado Life magazine covering scenic, out-of-the-way campgrounds in Colorado.  The rustic, no-hookup campground at Mancos State Park fit the requirements perfectly.  We’re hoping the editor will run this in the May-June issue.

Another campground that fit the bill Jumbo Lake Campground on Grand Mesa where we camped last year.  Although we were stuck down at Robb State Park Island Acres, we spent many days up on the mesa exploring and photographing the area for the magazine.  Jumbo should be perfect for the July-August issue.

For the September-October issue, I wanted a campground surrounded by fall color, and there’s no better place to catch the green and gold of a Colorado autumn than along the San Juan Skyway.  The 236-mile highway loop runs from Ridgway to Silverton and on to Durango.  From there, it goes to Cortez and back to Ridgway, passing the bygone mining towns of Rico and Telluride.  Instead of a single site, we plan to feature a half-dozen small campgrounds along the way where leaf-peeping campers can bunk in Midas-touched splendor.

At our campsite at Ridgway State Park, we met up with some old climbing friends and fellow authors, Charlie and Diane Winger, who live in nearby Montrose.  On our last Thursday in camp, they led us on a hike out of Ouray. 

On the way back, we went to see the new Ouray Via Ferrata.  Here, participants clip into steel cables for safety as they traverse Ouray’s box canyon gorge using ladders and steel-rod steps anchored to the sheer rock faces. 

Charlie and Diane graciously agreed to be photo models for us on Friday.  We shot from the cliffs while they traversed the route below.  We’ve now added the Via Ferrata to our “must do” list for next year.

Instead of going directly home from Ridgway, we made a one-night final camping stop at Cherry Creek State Park, which lies about five miles from home.  It’s tough to back the trailer into the driveway during periods heavy traffic volume.  It’s much easier on Sunday mornings when traffic is minimal.

An added bonus of camping at Cherry Creek was that we could get a full-hookup, pull-through site for the night.  With electricity, water and sewer connections, we could enjoy all the comforts of home before we actually got home.

Going Again

I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited about an upcoming Micro Lite camping trip.

After having our eagerly-anticipated April expedition to Arizona cancelled, it appears the Colorado State Park campground for which we have late-May reservations will finally be open. We booked the spot months ago with plans to attend the Junior College World Series in Grand Junction.

Because of the Covid pandemic, there won’t be any baseball to watch. We’ll just have to be content with bike rides along the 22.1-mile-long Colorado Riverfront Trail system and doing some hikes in Colorado National Monument and the McInnis Canyons National Conservation Area.

We won’t be making our usual burrito stop at the nearby Dos Hombres restaurant and my wife will have to forego her toffee sundaes at Enstrom’s in downtown Grand Junction, but at least we’ll finally be out camping!

We’re finally on the road

As Willy Nelson might say, “we’re finally on the road again.”  We hitched Whitey to Tighty and drove to Colorado’s Grand Valley near Grand Junction for a week of camping at Robb State Park’s Island Acres unit. 

The campground sits between the Colorado River and Interstate 70.  For most of our trips, I try to make reservations as far in advance as each site allows, but this trip came about long after the six-month advance window opened. 

Last February, the Covidemic had not hit yet and we decided, “hey, wouldn’t it be fun to attend the Junior College World Series in Grand Junction.”  Our favorite campground in the area is Robb State Park’s Fruita unit, but since this is Memorial Day week, sites there for the week were unavailable.  So, we settled for our second choice, where the only full-hookup sites available were close to the freeway.

We left Denver on Saturday morning, the first day of the three-day weekend.  Normally, I would expect traffic to be heavy heading out of town, but it was little more than moderate.  Gas stations and rest areas were all open, so there were plenty of bathroom stops available.  Some folks, including us, were wearing face masks, but most were not.

We checked in for the campground at the entry gate where the attendant did not have a mask on.  He asked us what our site number was, disappeared for a minute or two and came back, this time wearing a mask, and said we were all set.  We drove to our site, leveled the trailer and set up our camp for our eight-night stay.

The campground is full, largely with families with kids all ecstatic to be out.  I feel their pleasure.  I doubt we’re the only retired folks equally ecstatic to finally be out!

Horsing around

To celebrate our first full day in the Grand Junction area, we hiked the Main Canyon Trail in the Little Book Cliffs Wild Horse Range and Wilderness Study Area.  We ended up covering six miles, three miles up the canyon and three miles back.  For a canyon lover like me, it was great to be back, once again walking between the folds of the earth. 

And yes, we did see some wild horses.

Covid Camping

Unlike many Americans, my wife and I are taking this pandemic seriously.  We support the mandated shutdown restraints, we don mask when we go to stores and we practice social distancing.  We gather with friends on Facetime and Dianne attends church services on Zoom. 

We are also, finally, out camping.

We cancelled a long-anticipated trip to Arizona in March when Colorado shut down the state park campgrounds we planned to visit on the trip south.  We sweated whether we would be able to make a previously reserved camping trip to a Colorado park in late May.  Fortunately, the state park campgrounds reopened on May 12 and we were able to make the trip.

Like everyone, we want to return to 2019 when the threat of contracting a potentially deadly virus didn’t loom in the air.  Clearly, a lot of people think those days are here now.  We stopped for a bathroom break at a truck stop where folks were packed belly-to-butt in line to pay for their snack purchases. 

At the campground, the young man manning the entrance station only donned a mask when he saw that we had ours on.  The custodians and campground hosts have masks around their necks, but I seldom see them on.  Large groups of campers seemed to intermingle freely without even attempting social distancing. 

On the other hand, social distancing was practiced on the trail into a wilderness study area we hiked yesterday.  We and everyone we met backed off the trail to let other hikers pass by.  It was a simple and safe thing to do.

For us who stay put at our campsite, social distancing is pretty easy.  We’re farther away from the nearest fellow camper than we are from our next-door neighbor at home.  While I’m not ready to cram into a bar or restaurant or pack elbow-to-elbow into a ballpark yet, I feel safe camping at a state park site where my nearest neighbor is 30+ feet away.

As long as some don’t ruin it for others, we’ll continue camping. 

Pedaling on

The longer I linger in Grand Junction, the more I long to live here.  Within a short drive, Grand Junction residents can visit their choice of cliffs, canyons and crags.  It has minor league skiing (1,600 skiable acres at Powderhorn) and minor league baseball (Grand Junction Rockies).  Hiking trails begin practically right out one’s door. 

Today we explored another Grand Junction treasure – its bike paths.  We drove to the other Robb State Park unit that has camping, this one in the town of Fruita at Grand Junction’s western end.  From there, we bicycled five miles west to the start of the Kokopelli Trail, a grueling, 142-mile mountain bike route to Moab.  We started the trail but didn’t make it all the way to that famed Utah hot spot before turning around and heading back to Fruita.

From there, we bicycled the Riverfront Trail along the Colorado River to the Walter Walker Wildlife Area, a place we learned that the resting fowl are active.  Like the trail to Kokopelli’s Trailhead, the bicycling surface was wide, nicely paved in concrete and dotted with benches along the way for those in need of a rest. 

Skiing.  Hiking.  Biking.  The only thing missing in Grand Junction is a Mazda dealership.  For now, we’ll use that as our excuse to stay planted in our domicile on the sunrise side of Denver.