On my last day in Flagstaff I had to revive the art of predatory parking. A real die-hard at this sport will seek out the few shaded spots in town early in the morning, before anyone else has thought about it. Since most RVs take up two spaces, you become an unpopular fellow by mid-day. That's tough--it's survival of the fittest during a southwestern summer.

I found one shaded park space out of the thousand at the Flagstaff Mall. Inside the mall every seat or bench was being warmed by a human body who was sipping a cool drink. And who can blame them? This was Flagstaff's first day above 80 F. Outside, people were dropping like flies.

In the late afternoon I left Flagstaff for Cortez, CO. I hardly ever drive in the evening but I wanted to drive with the sun at my back. Maybe the reader is unfamiliar with how hot an un-air-conditioned van can get, where the driver's foot is six inches away from the engine.

At the bridge over the Little Colorado River, a sign announced that the altitude was only 4200 feet. Practically sea level. It was kind of horrifying.

So it was a great relief to turn east and get back to the usual 5000 foot altitude of the Colorado Plateau. An hour before sunset I noticed that the air was cooling off. The crisis was over.

I boondocked in Kayenta. What would it be like to be on an Indian Reservation on a Friday night? I knew their reputation. As it turned out, it was no big deal. Half the people around town were tourists who were there to see Monument Valley.

Last fall I drove right by Monument Valley and didn't even stop for one snapshot. Was that just snobbishness? After all, Monument Valley was turned into a photo cliche decades ago. Another reason not to stop for much on Indian Lands is that you're trespassing if you go off and explore the dirt roads and boondock. Well that is what I do!

So the camping or travel experience on Indian lands consists of staying on paved roads, and then pulling off at some official tourist trap run by the tribe or perhaps by the Great White Father back in Washington, D.C.

The limiting case is the Federal monument at the Four Corners, itself. Can you imagine being such a goofy tourist that you would pay a fee just to see a speck of sandstone distinguished in no other way than it is where two arbritrarily-chosen lines of latitude and longitude intersect?

Leaving Kayenta the next morning I liked the way the morning sun caught the topography.



We rolled into Cortez, CO and tried to meet Ara of Oasis of my Soul fame. It didn't happen, maybe because he doesn't have a cell phone or because we got lazy using the phones.

Some blogs defray travel expenses with Google ads, while some ask for small donations. Ara asks for an amount smaller than the cost of a coffee table book, even though his photographs are better! Perhaps I will join his list of benefactors, but only if he promises to invest in a cellphone rather than running into a Harley store and squandering it on overpriced leather fashions. (grin)

After a quick shopping trip in Cortez we headed for higher country near Mancos. It is my first time here. My arrival software immediately kicked in. It tries to optimize the Three B's: Broadband signal, Bicycling roads, and Boondocking campsite. Except in this case there was a fourth B: the famous Bakery in Mancos.