Boondocking?

Waning Gibbous Moon

People have been pulling over and sleeping in their vehicles for as long as there have been vehicles. Only recently have people called it "boondocking." Also recently, they have tricked out their vans with solar panels, tweeted about it like it's a wild adventure, and YouTubed the whole thing with how-to DIY instructions using Dad's tools and Mom's sewing machine (and blogged about it, too).

Last night I may or may not have parked Spugly in a sandy turnout/cul de sac halfway between I-10 and the southern entrance to Joshua Tree National Park. I may or may not have cowboy camped under the stars on my truckbed on federal land without paying a single red cent.

If I did, and maybe I didn't, it wasn't that wild. I mean there weren't any bears or pumas out there. Rattlesnakes can't shimmy up truck fenders and seek out sleeping campers, if there even was a camper in a pickup, even if it was me. So big deal if I did, big deal if I didn't, okay? I definitely didn't "boondock." You couldn't even pay me to say I did that.

I did, however, drive through Joshua Tree this morning and stop a few times to stretch my legs. My favorite was the Cholla Gardens exhibit, which was way better than the ocotillo patch. The ocotillo patch was nearly bald. The Cholla Gardens were flourishing. I followed the National Park's posted advice and did not touch the cholla, duh.

Then came the less than riveting drive between 29 Palms and Agua Dulce. There was one decent mural, one gazebo, and zero bike racks.

Just outside Agua Dulce, though, is the fantastic Vasquez Rocks County Park (Los Angeles County). Not only does the Pacific Crest Trail run right through the park (and through the town), but the rocks are incredible and so are the petroglyphs.

The park was named after Tiburcio Vasquez, who was either a murdering thief or a misunderstood Robin-Hood-like martyr in the 1800's, depending on who you ask. One thing for certain is his park never ceases to impress.

Arriving in Ventura in time for sundown was a delicious treat and traffic along the beach into Santa Barbara was surprisingly light. This day, this next to last day of a diverse and fun month-long trip, was appropriately diverse and fun in itself. Should I "boondock" in Santa Babylon tonight? There's a different term for it here. I think it's called "trespassing" or "vagrancy" or something like that.

Lucky for me, the Earl of Montecito fed me tacos and Myra the Wonderdog loaned me her sofa for the night. This is called "friendship" or "kindness" for which I am truly grateful.

Peace, Love, and Couchdocking,
Jim