This may not come as a surprise to you, but we often talk about & think about food. Some would say excessively so, but I don’t think we’re alone. We do maybe dwell a little excessively on pizza talk. Perhaps because the thought of perfectly cooked pizza dough, crust puffed up, crispy underneath, garlicky tomato sauce, gooey buffalo mozzarella (oozing and dangling from each slice), drizzled generously with olive oil… is the food of gods. Or perhaps because it’s normally one too many steps removed from a camping experience. The unattainable or elusive is often the most desired. 

Elusive that is, until now. Let me (…Entertain you… sorry, Robbie Williams just got in the way). No no no, Let me Introduce you… To Uuni. Wood fired pizza oven extraordinaire. In fact, so extraordinaire, it is (a) portable, i.e. Interpret as ‘can come camping’, and (b) matches the Basecamp. Practically long lost twins, separated at birth.

Pizza, whilst camping, takes a tad more forethought than your average camping one-pot.  

 

But good things come to those who wait!

Whilst this was a non-designated camping spot, there were a few other campers nearby. A few in tents (poor chilly souls! I remember it well). But then a nearby RV made a statement with their outdoor area. “I’ll take your wood-fired pizza oven and I’ll raise you one”. Next thing we knew… an open air movie theatre!

Only 2 weeks to go before my half marathon meant camping in the desert is no excuse for not running in the morning.

After a hearty bacon and mushroom scramble (prepared indoors, no gloves required), a trip to the visitor center was in order, where we were reliably informed that the difference (or maybe ‘a’ difference, not sure there’s only one) between a National Park and a National Preserve is that the Preserve allows hunting (oh and by the way, it’s hunting season). I was immediately scanning for hunters, ready to give them my scornful ‘seriously???’ look. I wasn’t really paying attention, but the rangers also mentioned something about dodgy roads.    

We’d already endured one allegedly ‘rough road’ in Mojave. 

When we subsequently reached a 4×4 only sign, there was a lot of deliberation before we concluded the ‘rough road’ could probably get worse. We were just about to bottle it and strategize as to the best way to turn around, when a truck came along from the direction we were headed. Apologizing for virtually blocking the road, we politely enquired as to the state of the road ahead. We were given assurances galore, (in between the driver getting out to remark on what a cool little Airstream we had, enthusiastically snapping pictures of the Basecamp) and so we forged ahead, our confidence bolstered.  

The next hour was spent gritting our teeth, clinging on to our seatbelts and wishing we’d done a better job of checking everything in the back was ship shape. My heart was in my mouth as we hauled our way up the narrow, washed out, sandy trail, fingers crossed we wouldn’t meet any other vehicles approaching the blind summit. Relieved to finally reach the primitive campground, we were decidedly going no further that night. A few items dislodged but no damages in the back, maybe the BC IS as hardy as it’s cracked up to be!

A couple more hikes rounded off our Mojave experience. The first: one of those ‘no path’ walks where you’re just meandering.  Our route took us towards a big pile of rocks (a very big pile of rocks), constantly alert for spiky cacti needles and snakes. And very cool views across the vast expanse of the preserve.  

Our final walk was a one mile ‘hike’ (big deal, how can you even call one mile a hike?). However… This one should have come with serious disclaimers. Slight issue of a canyon in the way.  Of the swiss cheese variety.

 

Some considerate soul had graciously thought ahead, and hammered permanent steel pinions into the rock to aide the casual walker in clambering up the sheer rock faces. 

I wouldn’t quite class myself as the casual walker. More like a weeble (the type that wobble but allegedly don’t fall down), certainly height-challenged and lacking in upper arm strength.

Whoever put these damn pinions in was for sure, not 5 foot 4.  Darren persisted with the encouraging ‘you can do it’ route, before eventually resorting to lowering himself back down to give me a little helping hand from below… the grunt and shove move with traction seemed to do the trick a little better (I knew that cross-fit training would eventually come to some use!).  Job done, hike done, and homeward bound!

With one practice camping trip at a proper campsite under our belts, it was time to brave the big wide world with the Basecamp. I learned a brand new word from all my RV googling: boondocking. It seems to be what we’ve previously referred to as ‘free camping’ or ‘wild camping’ – essentially staying overnight somewhere other than a campground (truck stops and Walmarts don’t count), with no electric or water hook ups. Sounds right up our street.

Our first night was more a matter of getting a few miles in. It was Friday rush hour and Darren picked me up from Burbank airport (after a very wet week in Seattle). We joined the snaking procession of red tail lights heading away from LA, all intent on distancing ourselves, putting the working week behind us.

By the time we got to our overnight stop (an Off Highway Vehicle (OHV) playground near Barstow, off the I15), it had been dark for a few hours and we just wanted to park up and snuggle down. Concerned that the BC might fall down a drop off, crunch into a pothole or sink into some deep sand (not that we’re precious at all!), I was ejected from the truck – torch held aloft, coat zipped up to the chin and hood up, in a battle to avoid the howling wind. My job – to walk ahead and check the ‘road’ (and preferably not go over any drop offs, potholes or soft sand). I think I made it ooh, all of 50 yards before proclaiming we’d found a great spot.

Out in the proper ‘boonies’ in the Mojave the next day, we bagged ourselves a great boondocking spot. Even managed to maneuver the trailer around so as to face the panoramic windows towards the sand dunes (advanced stuff, believe me!).  

 

I’d forgotten how the very scale of the surroundings in the desert make things appear, shall we say kinda smaller. Take the Kelso Dunes for example. A little hike up to the top seems like no big deal, after all, they look pretty small and they’re just right there.

Of course, ploughing through soft sand makes any walk immediately twice as far. Throw a bit of altitude in there, not to mention the steep slopes and knife edge ridges and you’ve certainly got yourself a hike.

Despite temperatures in the low 70s, this was hot hot hot desert sun. The type that beats down relentlessly with no shade, and we were soon ‘working it’. Despite that, Darren somehow found a way to defy gravity and conquer a slope of insane proportions. Me… I took the looong way round.

I feel obliged to point out to the Brits that the Basecamp is not a caravan. Well, technically it is. But the Americans have no clue what a caravan is. And the idea of a caravan for me somehow rustles up thoughts of a sedentary lifestyle, crawling along narrow winding British roads, holding up long queues of irate traffic.

I recklessly pick and choose my use of American terminology to suit my own ends. I’ve succumbed to the likes of vacation and highway, and have long been asking for the rest room instead of the loo to avoid any funny looks. Meanwhile, I will never lower myself to claim “I could care less” instead of “I could NOT care less”. Anyway, to avoid any association with being middle aged/old, I’ll be coining the American equivalent of caravan instead: the Basecamp is a camping trailer. (Which by the way, is very definitely aluminium and NOT aluminum!).

It has to be said, there are both advantages and disadvantages to having a cool camping trailer. On the one hand, it’s cool! Tick. A little ego boost as you drive along, getting the thumbs up from neighbours as you head out on your next adventure. On the other hand, you start to get the looks. The bravest of the inquisitive stroll over to you when pulling into a rest stop, and casually enquire “so… you got a horse in there?” 

 I will grudgingly admit, it does have a slight horse trailer look about it, but “nope” we tell them, “it’s a camping trailer with a toilet, shower, living area, queen sized bed and kitchen”. That’s all they get and the rest is left to their imagination. But if this has piqued your interest at all, I can give you the grand tour! Actually, it won’t take long.

Told you it wouldn’t take long!  I could have put a picture of the other room on… but why would you want to see a rest room!?