I prepare for my annual southern migration, this time with a purpose.

I go south every year for the winter. Although I love my home and I’d like nothing more than to be able to spend the winter here in comfort — writing at my desk, making jewelry in my studio, editing video at my computer, and maybe even hitting the cross-country ski trails around Mazama and Winthrop — I find the short daylight hours and dreary weather depressing. It starts as soon as we change the clocks — I’m firmly in the DST year-round camp — and by the first of December, when Shadow Time starts, I’m going nuts with SAD. The only solution is to go south, so that’s what I do. I pack up my camper and drive to Arizona, where I have some friends and favorite campsites, and California, to hit my favorite hot spring.

(I should mention here that while I was in the middle of cruising the Great Loop in my boat from October 2022 to August 2024, I spent both winters on my boat on the east coast cruising on the coastal waterways of Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina. I made it all the way down to Key West where I spent New Years 2024 with my friend and fellow boater Jason. But I digress. This winter, my boat is resting up in the garage for another season as a charter boat in the San Juan Islands starting in April 2026.)

Not Just Sitting Around

This year has extra purpose. I’m participating in two art shows with my artist friend Janet LeRoy. We applied to three shows together and I managed to get into two of them and be added to the waitlist for the third. (Janet seems to think I’ll get into that one, too, but jewelry is an over-crowded field, as I learned earlier this month in Seattle.) After a lot of internal fighting in my brain, I finally decided to bring along my utility trailer, where I can set up my mobile jewelry studio. This relieved me from having to spend the last three weeks before departure in my home studio making inventory — which was a good thing because I’ve been dealing with a bad cold since November 5. The added benefit of having the utility trailer in tow is that I don’t have to store all my show gear inside my truck and camper. It’s a tight fit, to say the least. But the trailer has plenty of space and I don’t have to live with all that stuff for three months. This will be the first time I took the trailer south since winter 2020/21. I don’t like towing — it really takes away the benefit of having a truck camper — but I’ve dealt with it before so I can deal with it again.

My truck camper, which I’ve been trying to sell for the past few years — some years more seriously than others — is a comfortable, fully self-contained rig with plenty of space and all the amenities I need. It’s remarkably similar to my boat, but has a bigger refrigerator, more solar power, fewer batteries, and no inverter. And it doesn’t float. (At least I don’t think it does.) It’s 18 years old but in excellent condition and has a lot of extras, including a fitted canvas “room” that can be installed when I take the camper off the truck. I almost had it sold last year but the idiot who wanted to buy it asked his wife and she said no. The reason it’s hard to sell is because it requires a full long bed pickup. That means a pickup with an 8-foot bed. These days, people buy little wimpy trucks that simply can’t handle a rig the size of this one. My truck, however, has no trouble at all.

The Route

I’ve driven the distance between the Phoenix area of Arizona and North Central Washington State twice a year almost every year since 2008. Back then, I lived in Arizona with my future wasband and came north ever summer for cherry drying work. In summer 2012, when my marriage fell apart, I came home, packed up, and prepared to move to Washington. I arrived in the Wenatchee area in spring 2013 with my old 5th wheel (the “mobile mansion.” The ink wasn’t even dry on the divorce papers in May when I closed on the 10 acres in Malaga where I’d build my home. Since then, I’ve gone south for the winter instead of north for the summer.

So yeah, I’ve done the trip a few times. And yeah, I know the pros and cons of each route.

The best route, so far, is I-84 to US-93. About a third of it is on freeways, mostly I-84 south of Kennewick to Twin Falls and then I-15, etc. in the Las Vegas area. The other two thirds is on two-lane desert roads with 65 mph speed limits, mostly US-93 through Nevada and Arizona. You have to know when to stop for fuel and not skip a stop. (You also need a good roadside assistance provider just in case.)

This year I’ll be leaving around Thanksgiving, which is when I’ve arranged for my winter house-sitter, John, to start his annual gig. This year he’s thrilled to get a full three months; last year I was gone just five weeks, which was barely enough for him to take advantage of the ski pass he buys for Mission Ridge.

My only concern with driving this route as winter approaches is snow in the Blue Mountains between Pendleton and Baker City OR. Way back in 2012, in October, I hit a nasty snowstorm up there where the freeway was down to one lane with trucks installing chains in the slow lanes. The truck I was driving held the snowy pavement well, but not good enough to keep going. I was forced to stop for the night at Baker City, when I’d hoped to get all the way to Boise. So I’ve been checking the forecast regularly, starting yesterday. The forecast for La Grande is looking iffy the beginning of next week, but Thanksgiving day looks good, with rain and daytime temperatures in the upper 40s and lower 50s. That might be my perfect weather window.

The Stops

Although I can cover this distance in two days — I’ve done it before more than once — I prefer to take my time and avoid driving in the dark. I’ve got four stops planned.

First is the Three Island Crossing State Park on the Snake River in Glenns Ferry, ID. That’s just off I-84 between Boise and Twin Falls. I have been stopping here southbound since maybe 2020. I like it because it’s an affordable state park campground with pull-through sites and it’s basically deserted in November and December when I come through. Last year, around Christmas, I was literally the only person there. Although the water is turned off and the bathrooms are locked, the electricity is on and sites have sewer dumps. (I don’t usually dump here; it’s the first night of my trip.) I pull in, plug in, walk to the pay station to pay, and then settle in for what’s usually a cold night. With an electric heater on board, I don’t have to run my propane heater. I an also use my microwave and coffee maker. It’ll make a great spot for Thanksgiving dinner if I prepare the food on Wednesday and just heat it up at the campsite. (Heck, I’ll just have thanksgiving dinner on Wednesday at home and leftovers that first night.)

Sunset at 5:10 PM on December 10, 2021 at Three Island Crossing State Park. I was able to make it before dark that day; I should be able to do it again.

The drawback to this as a first stop is that it’s nearly 500 miles, which means I need to get a very early start with minimal fuel stops to get there before dark. Apple Maps calculates about 7 1/4 hours but it expects me to do the speed limit, which gets up to 85 in Idaho. I usually keep it around 70. Add an hour for 2 fuel/bathroom stops and I’m looking at a 9-hour drive.

The second stop is Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge just south of Alamo, NV. I’ve been stopping here since maybe 2010? I remember stopping here on my way north with my big 5th wheel. This is a wildlife refuge with about a dozen campsites right on a lake. There’s lots of birds, making it an excellent spot for bird watching. Camping is free, although I usually mail in a donation. It used to be easy to get a site here, but it’s tougher now. I think it’s been “discovered.” Although it’s a lower elevation that other places along the way, it can get wicked cold here, as I discovered in maybe 2022. If I get a good site and the weather is nice, I’ll spend two nights and do some hiking or take my bike out while I’m there. It’s 468 miles from the previous night’s stop, so again, I’ll need an early start.

Sunset the next evening at Pahranagat. This was a 4:37 PM. I know from other photos that I arrived at least an hour before that.

The third stop really depends on whether a friend of mine who lives in Las Vegas is available to meet up. I met with Jim last year, learned about the changes in his life since I’d seen him back in 2021, and had lunch with him. He’s 86 now and was on the verge of retirement from the company he’d built after taking early retirement from Eastern Airlines long before I met him in the early 2000s. (We used to go on helicopter outings together in the desert — him in his Hughes 500 and me in my R-22.) I’ll get in touch before I head south to make sure (1) he’s still alive and (2) he’s available.

Then, with that third day taken up mostly by our time together, I’ll head over to Boulder Beach campground on Lake Powell where I can get a campsite for $10 thanks to my National Parks Senior Pass. That’ll make about 100 miles of driving for the day. I don’t like that campground — too much like a subdivision for me — but there is water to top off my fresh water tank and fill two 6-gallon jugs and a free dump station to empty my tank before I start serious boondocking. I’ll probably treat myself to a nice hot shower before I top off the tank.

If Jim is not available, I’ll go a little farther, to Willow Beach Campground on the Colorado River. This is also inside the Lake Mead National Recreation Area, but it’s a concession campground and, without that senior pass, would cost $80 per night for a full hookup. With the pass, it’s a slightly more affordable $40. There’s a fish hatchery there and some hiking trails. I can rent a boat to go up to the Arizona Hot Spring if I’m feeling ambitious and rich. (The boat rentals aren’t cheap.) The site is full hookup — it should be for that price! — so I can top off my fresh water tank and dump my waste tanks before I go. I remember the showers there being VERY good. And there’s a laundry room if I need to wash anything.

The view down into Black Canyon at the Colorado River from the main road above Willow Beach.

From wherever I end up on my third stop, I’ll head to my destination in Wickenburg, AZ, which is 323 miles from the wildlife refuge or 190 miles from Willow Beach. Along the way, I’ll stop at the Kingman Mine store, which is along the way but closed on weekends. I buy a lot of turquoise for my jewelry making endeavors there and I prefer to buy in person instead of online.

I was going to skip Wickenburg for now and return later on in the winter, but I’m having a problem with the water pump in my camper. It’s working but it sounds like it’s sucking air and it won’t shut off on its own like it should. I looked everywhere I could see a pipe and don’t see a leak. Janet’s significant other, Steve, is a certified RV repairperson so he’ll take a look and hopefully resolve the issue. I’m hoping it just needs a new pump, which looks pretty easy to get at. I’d like to get it repaired without spending a fortune on it.

And Then Showtime!

Setup for the Wigwam Holiday Festival for the Arts is on Thursday in Litchfield Park, AZ. (The show runs December 5 – 7.) So that’s the only solid thing on my calendar determining when I must get to Arizona. The sooner I leave here, the more time I have to screw around on my way south. There should be RV parking for artists at the show; Janet will camp with me.

Afterwards, I’ll boondock out in the desert for a while. The next solid thing on my calendar is a tour of Rio Grande’s Albuquerque facility on the morning of December 18. I’m hoping to park the utility trailer somewhere before I do that and spend about a week touring western New Mexico. But maybe I’ll take it with me and spend some quality time in the desert making jewelry along the way. Who knows?

The next show is the Cave Creek Fine Art & Wine Winter Festival on January 9 1 11. So I have time to wander around a bit. Or, if I find a good BLM campsite, park myself for a while.

The final show is the Tubac Festival of the Arts on February 4 – 8. I’m on the waitlist, but Janet is invited. I’ll go down there and hang out. I’ve told the promoter that I’m available as a volunteer if I don’t get off the list. I haven’t spent significant time in Tubac for many, many years, although I did stop for a few hours to see this particular show about 5 years ago. The town has changed. I look forward to exploring it. I’m not opposed to finding a new home there, either — but that’s another story.

Those are the plans, subject to change. I think I’m really going to enjoy this season in the desert.

I come up with a new goal and a business plan to go with it — and realize that this simply isn’t a good time to take risks.

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you should know a little about me, but if you don’t, let me fill you in on what’s important to know for this post.

I’m currently 60-something. I retired from my most recent career as a helicopter pilot in 2023, after selling the helicopter, the charter company, and the cherry drying company in 2022 and 2023. I took the proceeds from those sales and used them to buy a 32-foot “pocket yacht,” which I shipped to Chicago in October 2022. I then spent most of the next two years cruising on that boat, alone and with friends, along the Great Loop. (I blog about that in my Great Loop blog, so if you’re interested, please check it out.)

I finished my Great Loop trip in August 2024 and trailered the boat back to the Seattle area, where I launched it in Puget sound. I then spent most of the next month cruising around there and the Inside Passage before bringing it home and cramming it into my very large garage for the winter.

In those final days on the Loop — keeping in mind that I covered more than 8,000 miles — I realized that the part of the Loop I liked the best was the northern part, say from New York City all the way up to Canada and then west into the Great Lakes. There’s nothing quite like cruising in the lakes, rivers, and canals of New York and Ontario; I felt that I could do it forever.

Here’s Do It Now anchored off Valcour Island in Lake Champlain in June 2024. I could spend a lifetime exploring the waterways of New York and Ontario.

Wouldn’t it be great to do it every summer until my age caught up with me and I was done boating?

Goals

I’m a person of personal goals and finishing the Great Loop left me kind of floundering without one. I also felt weird about being retired — not having anything to do to bring in a few bucks to cover my living expenses. I was living off my retirement savings, waiting a few more years to start collecting social security, and it didn’t look as if running out of money was going to be a problem. (I’m remarkably thrifty about some things.) Although my side gig as a silversmith did bring in some money, it was small change without the potential to get much bigger — unless I was willing to spend five days a week in my studio producing jewelry and a bunch of time finding new markets for my work. I wasn’t.

But when I finished the Loop I felt the inklings of a new goal coming on, a new business endeavor where I could spend eight months of the year cruising northern inland waters and the remaining four months soaking up the sun in Arizona. I’d use my captain’s license to offer one- and two-week cruises to a specific potential market of people, cruising in the waters I wanted to explore while teaching them what I knew about cruising. The money I brought in would cover my cruising expenses, reducing my cost of living and helping me preserve some of those retirement savings.

I’m Going to Need a Bigger Boat

But there was a catch: I needed a bigger boat.

I needed a boat with two full sleeping cabins. My guests would get the good one and I’d take the lesser one, but the lesser one had to be a lot bigger than the lesser one on my current boat. I needed to upsize and I had a few models in mind.

Of course, all of these bigger boat options, although pre-owned, would cost a significant amount of money. I figured I’d get that money by selling my home, which is fully paid for, and my current boat, which has a small loan. (I could go into a long lecture about having a paid-for home, but I won’t do it here.) I figured I’d put all of the boat proceeds and half the home proceeds into a bigger boat and use the rest of my home proceeds to buy a modest place in Tucson. After all, although I love my current home, I don’t like it nearly as much during the four months I’d be taking my annual break from the boat. Surely I wouldn’t miss it.

When I was in Arizona, I looked at homes and land and actually found two different lots that were perfect for me. One would be easier than the other to build on, but I’d still have to build on it. I built my current home, acting as General Contractor while the experts did the stuff requiring experts and I did the rest. Did I have another build in me? I thought maybe I did.

So all this is what was going through my mind when I cut this winter’s trip to Arizona short so I could attend the Seattle Boat Show. I had multiple goals for the show, but the main one was to look at used boats in the marina portion of the show. And I did. I actually found two models that would work perfectly for my new business.

The unfortunate thing was that they cost about 50% more than I was hoping to pay. Oops.

Okay, well maybe I could get a small business loan. I had good credit and could work up a business plan that would pass muster. My number-smart brain — did I mention I have an accounting degree? — went to work considering possibilities to make this happen.

How the Current Political Climate Stopped Me Cold

Meanwhile, the demented old narcissist that half the country thought should be the most powerful man in the world got sworn into office. (Did you notice how he didn’t touch the bible? I think he was afraid he’d burn his hand with the lightning God would send through it.)

And things got pretty weird pretty quick.

I won’t go into a litany of the weird shit the Orange Clown and his South African crony, the Space Karen, have subjected America and the world to. First of all, I couldn’t list it all. I stopped following the news. All I know are the things that have crept through my social media filters, things I’ve heard while I had my head in the sand and my fingers in my ears singing la, la, la, la, la at the top of my lungs.

And even that is enough.

More than enough.

More than enough to tell me that I’d be insane to invest time and money in a new business in this crazy political climate. Tariffs will result in inflation far beyond what we saw over the past few years. Job losses from the shutdown of government offices and the cancelling of grants will put people in dire straits. Another recession, which is definitely possible when the guy making laws by signing executive orders keeps making asinine decisions, will make it highly unlikely that anyone will want to pay me to take them on a cruise. (Unless there’s a chance I can smuggle them into Canada, I guess. If Canada even lets us in.)

More than enough to tell me that I’d be a complete and utter fool to walk away from a paid-for house to build a new one in the kind of economic uncertainty we face, where the price of lumber and building materials could jump 50% — if such materials were available at all. And in a red state? A place where the majority of people think calling the Gulf of Mexico the Gulf of America is a good thing that proves their cult leader has their best interests at heart? (How are those egg prices doing, my deplorable friends?) And how long before they cut our social security and medicare benefits — the exact thing most Americans in my age group are relying on to take care of them in their old age?

Am I nuts?

No.

So there won’t be a new business in my future. (Well, at least not one beyond the tiny business I started late last year and will talk about elsewhere.) There won’t be cruising in the freshwater lakes, rivers, and canals of New York and Ontario and beyond, at least not in a new-to-me, bigger boat. There won’t be a new house on five acres of desert land in the foothills of the Rincon Mountains near Tucson.

There will just be the financial security and comfort of the home I’m in now, a home I love eight months out of the year. I’ll keep myself busy enough.

And learn to be satisfied without chasing down another goal.

I still have that camper for a winter escape.