Tansy + Goose: Stealth Camping

Showing posts with label Stealth Camping. Show all posts

Friday, December 2, 2011

I-8 Near Alpine - Back on the Road

I left San Diego this morning. I think I'm heading towards Slab City, then Death Valley. I'm hoping something along the way gives me some direction as to what comes next.

Big fancy Indian casino and outlet mall.

Oh yeah, it's that time of year....

Between the long climb and my own doubts, I wasn't having the best day. In Alpine, I stopped at a grocery store, and ended up talking to the Salvation Army Bellringer guy for a while. He'd lived on the move, hitchhiking, for 30 years. Tells me California is easy - there are so many hitchhikers here no one thinks much of people camping in odd places.

It's amazing how changeable my emotions become when I'm riding. Talking to this man put me in good spirits for hours, and I'm really grateful he was there. I took his advice and camped right off the side of Interstate 8. I had flat ground and a beautiful view of a canyon below. Unfortunately, it was only 5pm...

Scenic interstate ride? It happens.

Tucked in for the night.

I think I've found my nemesis. It's not hills(Though I'm THIS fed up with mountains right now), or headwinds - it's these damn short days. Maybe it'll be better once I get out of the elevation and it's warmer at night. Right now, I can't do anything from 5pm until 9am. It's ust too cold to be out of a sleeping bag. I miss having an internet connection, too. I'm starting to see the value in smartphones... Anyway, I tried to read, got a headache, called home and complained for a few hours, until I felt ready to sleep. Thanks mom, for putting up with me.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

In which I sleep in a barrel - Fairplay, CO

46.46mi
5.9avs

Great morning, wet, freezing evening. I left Steves place as early as I could stand to, and met up with Ryan and Michelle at the Currant Creek Hostel. It was as charming as I'd hoped, and I hope I have a chance to stay there another year. I rode into the real rockies under darkness, ast night, lseeing only the shadows of tall pines, and today I woke up into a drastically different landscape. This looks like the Colorado I was expecting, and it is amazing.

Camping area at the Currant Creek Hostel

The bunkhouse!

Inside the super cozy bunkhouse.

The infamous bucket shower.

A rare photo of myself...

It's also cold. Unseasonably cold, actually. The cold itself, however, is... okay. Acceptable. The air smells cold, the colors of the mountains look chilly and unhospitable. The blue-green tufts of grass look frosty in the sunlight, even. It feels like it SHOULD be cold here, and that makes it easier to accept. Unfortunately, my newfound tolerance for the cold does not extend to wet, and after a wonderful morning ride, the rain came.

The ride from Hartsel to Fairplay was a freezing dash through varying degrees of rain, mist, drizzle, and downpour. The temperature steadily dropped. By the name I was in sight of Fairplay, I could not shift gears with my frozen fingers. If I'd stood up on the pedals to get more speed and dash to down, I'd probably have smashed in my face on the handlebars. My shoes where soaked through. I stopped at the first gas station to rock back and forth and moan while my hands thawed, then joined Michelle and Ryan at the laundromat, which we exploded our wet gear into. My trailer, and their panniers, had all leaked or soaked through.

Nasty weather incoming.

The aftermath.

While the clothes where drying, Michelle secured us showers at the community center, under the condition that we get there soon. We got there sort of soon, which apparently was not soon enough as the center was closed. This somewhat ruined our plans of smoozing a campsite out of the staff. Poking around the building, looking for signs of life, however, I came across a little barrel-sauna. It was unlocked, and still warm, and it seemed like an opportunity to heed. We spread out the tarps to hide anything reflective on the bikes, stashed them in a dark corner, and moved into the sauna for the night.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Back to the Pavement - Near Taberville, MO

54.86mi
7.4avs

End of the trail in Clinton.

Cheers for maps!

On the road - an actual road - again.

Thank you, Missouri.

Eerie dead trees at the Truman Reservoir.

No, really?

Not so many cornfields out here. It's cow country.

View from my campsite.

Monday, August 1, 2011

A Greener Iowa - Burlington, IA

60.78mi
7.0avs

Bugs and odd dreams kept me from sleeping too deeply last night. I slept on the shelter floor with no tent, feeling a bit insecure about my tent being spotted. The night passed with no slamming doors or flashlights in my face, and the river looked lovely in the morning mist.

Road construction changed my plans, once I was on the move. on a bicycle, 'road closed' most often means 'no traffic, nice ride', so I tend to ignore the signs. What safety regulation dictates to be deemed 'impassable' tends to vary wildly from reality. In this case, though, I ran into a indeterminably long expanse of pitted, rutted mud and loose gravel. The detour ran through roads not shown on my Iowa highway map, so it was a matter of giving up on any expectations and following the orange signs.

The detour turned out to be the best part of my day. It ran through a wildlife refuge, or maybe a large conservation area. I never found out what exactly it was, other than a sizeable tract of undeveloped woodland. Flooded woodland, with stripped silver trunks on one side, and dark green on the other. Very unlike the Iowa I've come to know.

I found a place to camp just inside the Burlington city limits, in a mostly-dry, wooded floodplain. The mosquitoes were present, but not nearly so many as one would expect. A stream passed through, but it was muddy and clouded, so I washed with bottles of water instead of bathing in it. Ate dry ramen for dinner, and slept comfortably in my hammock.

A detour through woodlands and wetlands.

For all the noise about cycling in Iowa, this is the first cyclist-related roadsign I've seen in the state.

Home for the night.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Waverly to Home

- 42.5mi
- 8.0AvS
- Rainy morning, some sun after 2pm. 60-70s.

The park in which I camped last night seemed like a smart place to stealth camp. Several miles from the town center, it was surrounded by farms and what looked to be some sort of maintenance facility. A picnic area of mowed grass angled just enough from the gravel parking space so it would not be visible unless one where on foot. There where no bathrooms to lock, and it didn't feel like a place that would be patrolled. There was a long trail along the river, but I decided not to hide back there, rather to camp in the picnic area near a paved picnic table pad, to give myself a dry place to pack up in the morning.

Seems I should have taken greater effort to hide myself. The spot I picked was very comfortable, though, and I got all the sleep I missed last night. I was so soundly asleep, in fact, that it took the cop several attempts to wake me up, and even once I groggily unzipped the tent, It took a bit longer to remember where I was and realize that this guy was wearing a uniform. He was pretty decent about it, more conversational with his questions than demanding. Seems there are no canoe campsites in the riverside county parks, after all, but he'd let me stay the rest of the night.

I stayed uncharacteristically calm about the whole thing, and quickly fell back asleep. It wasn't until I was back on my bike, again at 5:30 in the morning, that I started to worry about it. When he took my ID, did he just check up on me, or add some kind of note so the next time I get caught snoozing in a park I won't be let off so easily? The officer who caught me actually got out of his car and walked around the quiet little park in the middle of the night. He told me no resident had spotted me and called - he's just very thorough. How many other small town cops are that thorough?

Eventually I decided to just let it go and not agonize over how I'm going to stealth camp across long stretches of farmland. I'll avoid even isolated little parks where possible, but if I get caught again, or even fined... well, the monetary loss would hurt when I'm already on such a tight budget, but I won't feel guilty about it. The law isn't the dictate of a higher power. It's not an iron code of morals. If I break it, I have to face the consequences, but, in short, I'm not going to feel I'm a bad person because I didn't follow the rules.

The rest of the day was a typical dull ride home, unfortunately. I stopped again to read for a while closer to Waverly. It's a nice routine so far. Had some unfortunately stomach problems a bit further on. Between Montrose and Delano, it started to pour. I didn't break my rain pants, but the coat and home-made booties did their job, and as long I kept moving I wasn't too cold. About 10mi from home, the sun came out for a bit, and I just barely got home before the rain returned.

One of those sunrises I'm usually asleep for.

Maybe I should start getting up this early more often?

My rain booties. They're made from the upper sleeve of a cheap raincoat. The shoulder section makes the shoe-cover, which is folded into shape, sewn, and coated with seamseal. Where my foot contacts the pedal, it's padded with two layers of cordura. A bit rough-looking, but they worked very well.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Wayzata to Waverly

- 57.85mi
- 8.5AvS
- Partly sunny, 70s.

Last year I was taking week-long tours at the spur of the moment. I was unemployed the entire summer, and learned most of what I know about touring for dollars a day. This spring, I probably won't get out for more than three nights at a time, but it won't cost me anything more than staying at home would, and I intend to take every opportunity I can to prepare physically for when I leave in mid-July. I'm still planning on catching RAGBRAI on the way out, after all - I'd like to be able to keep up with the pack while hauling a heavy trailer by then.

Yesterday I brought my trailer to work, got off at 7pm and spent the night at a rest stop on the Luce Line trail. It was a bit too close to a house for my comfort. A light from my camp site would like be visible from what appeared to be a kitchen window. Every sound I made seemed a bit too loud, and I had a rough time sleeping.

Aside from June bugs noisily colliding with my tent, the night passed uneventfully. I packed out at 5:30 in the morning, glad that the people across the trail did not seem to be such early risers, and set off for a day of lazy meandering. For such a long day of biking, I didn't go far. After less than two hours of riding, I stopped at a bench off of the trail, and stayed there for at least an hour reading while the dew and my shoes dried. The weather report seemed to change by the hour - mostly cloudy, warm, probably no rain, now a sunny day, or maybe not? The sun came out while I waited.

Much of the day passed in the same fashion. I stopped for a while in each town of the day. A very talkative woman in Watertown kept me there for longer than most. I biked through Delano North to South, East to West then back again a few times trying to find its riverfront downtown, which I eventually did, before turning around again and going back to the highway and having a lunch of free samples at Coborns. Through Lake Rebecca regional park, I took my time on paved bike trails.

I reached my intended camping site at 4:00. The county website listed it as having a primitive canoe campsite, but I could find no sign of such a thing. Perhaps it was somewhere under the flooded Crow river? With so much of the day left, I decided to pass it up and look for a better place. After more wandering about, getting lost, and a stop to ask for directions, I came upon Humphrey Arends County park, and decided it would do. Again, the canoe campsites listed on the internet where nowhere to be found, but this park looked like a more inviting place to spend the night.

Whats that I see?

Oh. Hey there, miss.

A much better place for stealth camping, about 10mi west of the rest area. It's visible from the trail, but far out enough that no one would likely notice. Even on a warm and sunny morning, I saw only a bare handful of joggers and a single cyclist out here. That, and a cow munching alongside the trail.

No Llamas here :(

This appears to be some kind of nasty, partially rotted, soft root dragged out from the lake. The piece the looks like a birds foot was longer than my arm and looked more like, well - a monsterous bird foot.

I'm not actually sure how long this fellow was lackadaisically trotting along behind me before I noticed him. He didn't seem keen to get much closer.

The purple on the roof looked more like a growing fungus than flaking paint.

All the sheep save those snoozing under the trailer where raising quite a ruckus by the time I moved on. I took a video, but forgot I had my radio on and the sheep where barely audible over it.