rubber tramp rendezvous

the first annual Rubber Tramp Rendezvous has been set for this coming january near Quartzsite, Arizona. there have been alot of gatherings of vandwellers of different sizes and in different places around the country, but this will be slightly more structured (as much as you can structure a bunch of nomads) and hopefully a larger gathering than any before.

January 13- 23, 2011
on BLM desert land near Quartzsite Arizona

you can read more about it here, at Bob Well's site:

http://cheaprvliving.com/Renezvous.html

hope to see you there!

american nomads

photo taken labor day 2009 at the blue ridge rifles rendezvous

wayne and john discuss the future of the colonies

i've been thinking alot about the 'voo this week. hunkered down in this cold weather, i just finished "Centennial" by james michner, and am halfway through "american nomads" by richard grant.


my buddy brian recently recommended "american nomads", (click title above for amazon link) and i got it with the intention of reading it on my way west. since the trip was postponed, it didn't take long for me to cave in and read it to stave off my longing for the road. it did the complete opposite.

-----------------------------------------------------

from the preface of the book:

"A Tibetan dignitary, visiting America for the first time, sits by the Green River in Utah, looking over the mountains and the high windcarved plateaus. His name is T.T. Karma Chopel. He has come to America to study the workings of its democracy, but that is not in his thoughts now.

Something about the landscape and the great sweep of sky reminds him of his homeland. He thinks of yaks and yak herders, making their endless migrations across the Tibetan plateaus.

He knows there are no yak herders in america but he assumes there must be some equivalent. "who are your nomads?" he asks.........."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

this is a book to be savored. i read a little bit at a time, trying to make it last. the comforting thing while reading these stories is knowing that in a few weeks, i will be on the road again, making my own stories, and hearing yours.....

More of the 'voo

here's 2 photos of Gary doing his smithy work...he's making a stand for holding a muzzleloader in camp.

That's Clair weaving a shawl on a triangle loom, and Torie weaving a basket. There is so much to see and do and learn at a rendezvous. While we girls were visiting under the canvas fly, the kids games were going on in the grass near us. Down at the range, shooting competition is going on, and a few adults were supervising the kids at the knife and hawk range. Clair's boy Sam gave Randy, a seasoned buckskinner, a run for his money at the hawk throw. You go, Sam! That's Randy above with the long beard and the hat, just before Sam gave him what for :-)

"i keep saying it doesn't get any better than this, but then it does"

Http://twokniveskatie.blogspot.com

Loincloth shots

"i keep saying it doesn't get any better than this, but then it does"

Http://twokniveskatie.blogspot.com

'voo pics

here are some pics of cookfires and some plunder

"i keep saying it doesn't get any better than this, but then it does"

Http://twokniveskatie.blogspot.com

At the 'voo

this is a test! Looks like i'll be able to mobile post from here just fine. Here's a shot of Gary and Judy's tipi with Mitch hanging around the forge. Gary's a blacksmith and i'll get photos of him later when he fires up.

"i keep saying it doesn't get any better than this, but then it does"

Http://twokniveskatie.blogspot.com

the first thing you see: part 2

when i am at an encampment, i usually wake up at first light. camp is silent save for the occasional nicker of a horse. on this morning, i stay in my blankets beneath the small square of oilskin that is my home for the week. i have water and jerky in my pack, and eat while i wait for the sun to rise.

this is the first thing i see as the light grows. i slow my breathing in an effort to slow time.....i do not want this moment to end. sounds around camp pick up....wood being chopped, tent stakes being hammered, dog soldiers calling out to each other. smells of woodsmoke and bacon cooking drift on the air. barefoot children gather on the pond banks, then come to squat by my shelter to show me the frog they caught. i plead amnesty for the frog....they cheerfully grant it. the sun burns off the last of the mist, and i know where i am.


i am home.