NOVEMBER 5, 2013
Finally, on November 5, 2013 our Journey officially began as we departed Sweetwater Summit heading for a Colorado River Adventures park in Yuma, Arizona, where we had reservations to stay at the Yuma Lakes Campground.
Alex washed and waxed our motor home one last time and we were ready to go, finally.
The drive from San Diego to Yuma was uneventful…our new coach ran like a dream. It’s as quiet and smooth as a Greyhound bus. In searching for the campground, however, it became obvious that our directions were hopelessly flawed. A call to the campground office did us no good, as it had closed for the day. Long story short: we found ourselves driving on a narrow dirt road separating two huge fields of crops. Unfortunately, the road got more and more narrow as we continued and by now it was dark…I mean absolutely dark! Apparently lettuce farmers see no need to light their fields at night, as making RV travel easier for tourists who have drifted off the main road is not high on their list of priorities.
Heading out across the desert.
We realized we were headed in the wrong direction. But there was absolutely no place to turn around. Finally, after traveling miles and miles along this road we saw a little dilapidated farmhouse and our super powerful spotlight revealed a large dirt front yard. There was a dim light in one window, but other than that no sign of human life. Should I try to ask for permission to turn in the yard? I sure as hell didn’t want to frighten the occupant and be on the receiving end of a shotgun but on the other hand I really didn’t want to approach the house without any introduction. What the heck…I had no other options so I proceeded to drive into the front yard of this little house in hopes that I’d be able to make a U turn and get out the jam I was in. About 10 degrees into my turn the door of the house opened and a guy emerged. He had something in his hand and I honestly assumed it was a pistol. Turns out it wasn’t. It was a flashlight which he’d brought so he could help us make the turn! He also turned on the headlights to his old truck as a further assist to us.
We had really lucked out and although the guy spoke no English I tried to let him know how very much I appreciated his help. I honestly think that if we’d not come across this farmhouse and this guy, the next morning Florence and I would have found ourselves in a lettuce field with the irrigation sprinklers washing our rig! Kind of like Bob Newhart’s old shtick where he’s a driving instructor and after his student makes a right turn just a little too tight, Bob suggests that she roll up the car window to avoid being watered by the front lawn sprinklers!
Somehow we finally reached the Campground and were actually escorted to our spot by a security guard in a golf cart who was making his nightly rounds. We were booked for 10 days and it turned out to be a great stop for us. We made some new friends, found a couple of good diners, visited an old state prison and went to Lake Martinez and Fisher’s Landing to reminisce about jet ski trips we’d taken with the kids there in the past.
