Tortured in Phoenix

Tuesday

Although I had all the vents and windows open and ran the fans to pull air through, it stayed quite warm last night—still in the nineties even by the time I went to bed. I slept on top of a cotton sheet that I had brought along; my sleeping bag would have been far too cozy! And even at that, it wasn't really comfortable until about 1:00 a.m. Eventually I ended up under the sheet as it cooled off. I woke up at about 6:15 this morning feeling pretty well rested, although my back is giving me some trouble. Climbing in and out of the upper berth can be a painful business. I hope now that I'm back on my daily exercise program (as of yesterday), this will get better.

Into Phoenix

If yesterday was heavenly, today was hellish. It started off with the water heater misbehaving again: it would run for about five or ten minutes and then shut down. After about five tries I gave up, but by then the water was adequately warm. To tell the truth, I wouldn't have wanted it hot, because the day was already promising to be a scorcher. I unhooked and headed out (after carefully checking everything inside, but forgetting to check my tire pressures and fluids outside).

It was easy enough to get back on Rt. 10 west, and I headed for Phoenix, planning to visit the Camping World store there and pick up a few odds and ends. (I had originally intended to stop at Camping World in Tucson, but got there after closing due to my late start.) But halfway to Phoenix I saw a Flying J truck stop, and pulled in on impulse. It was a good impulse: I was able to find the set of safety triangles I'd sought in vain all over Sierra Vista. I was impressed by the variety of useful stuff they had there, and picked up a few other things besides the triangles.

Inhuman heat

But as I headed north and dropped in altitude, it got hotter and hotter, and even with the windows open and downing juice and ice water as fast as I could, I was pretty miserable—sweating and almost panting. The vent system was blowing lots of air—but it was hot air! And as I mentioned yesterday, the high amount of wind noise is fatiguing. Thinking forward to tonight's stop, I began to think that my plan of boondocking as much as possible would need to be modified—at least while I'm in these baked regions. Since I have a 12,600 BTU roof air conditioner that works fine as long as I'm plugged into "shore power," I decided that I'd better spend my nights at campgrounds with hookups until I leave this infernal zone.

By the time I got to Phoenix (with apologies to Glenn Campbell) I was in pretty sad shape. It didn't help that the Camping World directions didn't seem to make sense to my cooked brain. While searching vainly for Camping World, I passed an enormous edifice labeled Fry's. At first I thought it was the familiar (from Sierra Vista) Fry's supermarket, and thought to stop and buy some juice. But it turned out to be the famous Fry's Electronics that I'd been hearing about for years, and I couldn't resist checking it out.

I should have known better. Fry's prices are good...but the sheer variety of stuff they have under one roof is awesome. Forty five minutes later and $187 poorer, I stumbled out to Gertie with my load of merchandise. Oh, it was all useful stuff, mind you—for example, $60 went for a duplicate of the electronic blood pressure meter I use daily at home. Now I do have a standard, old-fashioned sphygmomanometer-and-stethoscope outfit with me in Gertie, but it's just a nuisance to have to juggle cuff and stethoscope one-handed and then listen for the right noises—I'm never sure my readings are accurate that way. Consequently I tend not to do it. The AND UA-767 auto-inflating unit I bought at Fry's (rated tops by Consumers Union) works accurately and effortlessly.

You might wonder why I didn't simply bring the electronic blood pressure meter from home. The same could be said for most of what I've packed into Gertie: it largely duplicates what I already have at home (although in many cases it's lighter or more compact—for example, Gertie's aluminum pots and pans weigh half what my cast iron Copcoware at home does). But if I moved my gear from home to Gertie and back, it would take me a day just to get ready for a trip and another day to unpack after one...and I'd always be forgetting something vital. That would pretty much rule out weekend jaunts! By having a complete set of everything I need (including clothing) in Gertie at all times, I'm ready to take off at a moment's notice; the only things I'll move over will be my PowerBook and some perishable food. I like that idea. If my house should burn down, I could move into Gertie and have everything I needed.

When I came out of Fry's. I found Gertie's interior a staggering 112° F. Driving with that kind of heat was torture. Eventually, after seemingly endless sweaty wanderings through suburban Mesa, Arizona, I did find Camping World, and got most of the remaining items on my ever-expanding shopping list. The only thing they didn't have was the handheld propane leak detector wand, and I can mail-order that from their HQ store.

Fate steps in

Just before Camping World on Auto Center Drive, I had spotted a place called Alexander A/C Service that advertised itself as specializing in RV air conditioning. As I climbed back into the oven that was Gertie, I resolved to check with them and see whether anything could be done about the cab air conditioning situation. I had little hope, given the age of the vehicle, but by this time I was truly desperate.

To my surprise, the fellow I spoke with, Chris, told me confidently that he could indeed fix the air conditioner...and even convert it to use the new ozone-safe coolants! It would probably cost me $1,200 to $1,500 to do the job right, though—replacing the compressor, accumulator, hoses and possibly the condenser as well. I didn't even blink. I said "Do it!" The only hitch was that he couldn't do it today; it would take all of tomorrow and possibly even stretch into Thursday. Making a rapid change of plans, I decided that it was well worth it to stay an extra day or even two in this hellish place and spend $1,500 if I could just get the damned A/C fixed. Otherwise I'd be in for a miserable trip. It's already much hotter than I was expecting for mid-May, and who knows what it will be like east of the Rockies, where the humidity will make every additional degree seem like two? So I'll lose a day or two in Phoenix—I'll drive fast across the Oklahoma panhandle to make up time. There's little to see there anyway, as far as I can tell.

So I made a date to bring Gertie back to Alexander A/C Service tomorrow at 7:00, and wandered off to find a campground with hookups. I'll spare you the grueling details—suffice it to say that in the heat of midafternoon it was much worse than finding Camping World had been. After several false starts (one park only rented by the month; another claimed to have 1,170 spaces but was not answering the phone) and a couple of cabinets-popping-open-and-clothes-all-over-the-floor incidents (by this time I was too bleary to check properly), around 3:30 p.m. I pulled into Fiesta RV Park. A very nice Canadian woman registered me and directed me to my space, a few dozen yards from the office. I plugged in, hooked up city water (but not the gray-water drain—my hose isn't long enough) and turned on the roof air conditioner full force. I was near collapse by the time I got done with these hookup chores, but a cool shower helped me somewhat, and standing around wet and naked drinking iced pink grapefruit juice helped more.

Trying to cool off

Three hours later, the air conditioner was still roaring away and the temperature where I was sitting had dropped to 87° F. The refrigerator, which due to the angle of the parking slot was catching the full rays of the afternoon sun, had been struggling to keep its cool; the fridge portion was 57° while the freezer was 26°...a pretty creditable performance under the circumstances. I was able to read these temperatures without opening the fridge doors, thanks to the Radio Shack three-channel radio thermometer (part #63-1030) I had installed just before leaving. One remote sensor is in the freezer and one in the refrigerator, so I can read the temperature and humidity of both (plus the temp/humidity in the coach) from the large display on the wall facing me. The fridge would no doubt have been able to do much better if I'd put up the awning to shade that side, but I simply wasn't capable of it—I'd probably have passed out from heat exhaustion if I'd tried.

I'm deeply grateful for Gertie's heavy insulation, without which I'd probably be well and truly cooked by now—and Allen Bondurant's suggestion that I install this 12,600 BTU air conditioner instead of the 7,100 BTU unit I had originally intended to get. (Allen is Judie and Gary's favorite roving RV repairman.) It's not that I didn't want more cooling power; I was afraid that anything larger would blow fuses since Gertie is only wired for 15A. But this high-efficiency unit only draws 10A and has worked fine so far.

This park is about as large a contrast from yesterday's stopping place as possible, and certainly confirms my desire to boondock as much as I can. Oh, the people at the desk were nice enough—but when I look out my windows, what I see is row after row of park model "mobile" homes permanently planted on postage-stamp lots, interspersed with a few trailers. It's a dismal sight—I'd almost rather stay in a motel, except that with Gertie I still have all my possessions with me and can rustle up my own meals, which certainly beats eating in restaurants. I was too heat-tired to be hungry for several hours after arriving, but eventually got up enough appetite to devour a turkey, lettuce, avocado and tomato on rye sandwich, blessing Judie for giving me the turkey and the rye bread.

The park had a pool and a laundry room, but I was too exhausted to use them...all I wanted to do is sit. I should have done laundry, but didn't have the energy. I really just wanted to go to bed. I kept thinking, "This is only May—what must it be like in August? How can anybody live in this brutal heat?" Ironically, I was reminded of the despairing words of Robert Scott, written under far different circumstances (in Antarctica): "Great God! This is an awful place."

Of course you could say much the same thing about the cold in Minneapolis or Buffalo. But given the population shift toward the "Sun Belt" in the past few decades, it's easy to see why this country has such an appetite for energy. The technology of air conditioning makes it possible to live in an oven like Phoenix, thus making it attractive to more and more people—but air conditioning consumes huge amounts of electrical power, so the more people move here, the higher the price we all have to pay in polluting powerplants and oil-state presidents.

By eight o'clock the temperature in Gertie's lounge was down to a mere 82° F. and it was fifteen degrees cooler in the overcab bedroom. (Again I have to thank Allen Bondurant, who located the A/C unit a good six feet closer to the bedroom than I had originally intended.) And since I needed to get up at 6:00 in order to be at the A/C repair place at 7:00, I went to bed early.

I was expecting adventures...but two days inside an oven were not exactly what I had in mind!