Case Closed!

Well the owner of the Class A Motorhome that shares our spot got in touch with us and we ended up meeting him at the storage place last week to look over the damage.  He was actually a very nice guy – he recently retired and this is his first motorhome.  Anyway, the mystery is solved.  He had some guys working on it and they had to drive it over to the car wash in order to wash it down.  He figures that when they re-parked it they must have hit us and either not noticed it or not mentioned it to him.  He said he planned to report the issue to the service guys he’d hired, but didn’t want us to have to wait to get the repair done.  So in the meantime he said we should just go through his RV insurance instead of waiting to see if the service shop would accept responsibility for the accident.  So we worked with his insurance company and were able to take the van to a decent fiberglass repair shop where they fixed everything and repainted it to match exactly.  Problem solved, case closed!

The Battle of Picacho Pass

We spent Saturday afternoon tasting wine down in Elgin, about an hour’s drive from Tombstone.  Three of the wineries are spaced closely together on the same road, so we went to those: Callaghan Vineyards, Kief-Joshua, and Canelo Hills.  All of the wines tasted fine to us, but then again we have unsophisticated palates.  It was interesting to see the the scraggly vines struggling to grow in high desert.  While the scenery was pretty in its own way, I don’t think anyone would mistake this place for Napa, do you?

We spent the night at a campground near Parker Canyon Lake.  The lake is stocked with all kinds of fish (trout, bass, sunfish, catfish) and there’s a marina for boat rentals.  It was pleasant and quiet, and a nice getaway from the gunshots of Tombstone (and the cannon blasts that were to come).

Early on Sunday, we arrived at Picacho Peak state park, where luckily we’d reserved a campsite ahead of time because they were completely booked up due to the Civil War re-enactment taking place that weekend.  We could easily see and hear the cavalry and cannon demonstrations from our campsite, but we decided to walk over and check it out firsthand.  They had roped off the battlefield with ominous signs reading “Battlefield – Keep Out”.  At least a thousand spectators sat roasting in the Arizona sun to watch the ensuing battle.  Note the big RV in the background (not ours!).  That’s how close the campground was to the battle site.

 

Back when we lived on the boat, we had gone to a re-enactment at the Boone Hall plantation in South Carolina, so I was excited to see how this one compared.  Plus, this year happens to be the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Picacho Pass, the western-most battle of the Civil War.  Every year, on the second weekend in March the troops gather to stage a re-enactment for their own (and the public’s) enjoyment.  The original battle actually took place on April 15th but somebody decided that by that time of year it’s too hot in Arizona.  So they do it in March instead.  See how happy they look to be marching around in wool uniforms in 80 degrees?

The Picacho Pass battle wasn’t a very big one, though – more like a skirmish.  Twelve Union cavalry troopers had a run-in with about ten Confederate soldiers.  The details are sketchy, but the conflict ended with three confirmed deaths on the Union side, among them the commander Lt. Barrett, who is buried near the railroad tracks that now run alongside Interstate 10.  Three other Union soldiers (and possibly two Confederates – the details are sketchy) were wounded.  The actual battle only lasted an hour; the re-enactment of it takes even less time than that.

But even though it was a very minor battle as far as history goes, there are still hundreds of would-be re-enactors out West who want to participate.  The photo below shows the tent village where they all camp out and live “authentically” for the three-day event.  Some enterprising folks have set up shops near the encampment so they can sell you a cold mug of sarsaparilla or cream soda to keep you cool.  You can also buy replica civil war-era gear and clothing so you can dress up and say things like “Oh my stars” and “Fiddle-dee-dee” with a southern accent.  It’s like a Renaissance Fair for Civil War buffs.

There were only about 25 people involved in the Picacho battle and yet there are hundreds of re-enactors who want to shoot at things, so they also stage a couple of bigger battles even though they took place elsewhere.  These are the crowd-pleasers because they involve marching regiments, cannons, and horses.  And they allow the re-enactors to show off their acting skills.  There was lots of “You better run, you yeller-bellied yank!” and the like.  Some of the death scenes were highly entertaining.  This Oscar-worthy confederate kept “waking up” and dying all over again.  Bravo!

Tombstone, Arizona

The town of Tombstone is truly a throwback to the days of the Wild West.  It was founded in 1879 and thanks to a silver mine it soon became one of the richest towns in the American West.  Sadly the silver boom days didn’t last long, and nowadays the town survives on tourist dollars instead of whiskey, women, and gambling.  Walking down the dusty street, it wasn’t hard to imagine the likes of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday swaggering around the town.  In fact it was quite easy to imagine it because half the people we saw were dressed up in long duster jackets, neckerchiefs, and spurs.  (Handlebar mustache count: 14).  Not sure why, but this weekend there seemed to be very few tourists.  By dusk everyone had pretty much closed up shop and gone home making Tombstone truly seem like a ghost town.

We went to the historic Crystal Palace Saloon for a couple of drinks and then moseyed over to Big Nose Kate’s Saloon for a few more.  (No need to worry about drinking and driving, the Wells Fargo RV Park where we were staying was within spitting distance of the O.K. Corral.  Hoping to learn a little more about the history of the town, we had bought tickets for the Gunfighter and Ghost Walking tour.  It was kind of a bust, we really only walked a block or so in either direction and our female guide spoke in a monotoned drawl the whole time.  We did find it amusing that her anecdotes all involved specters that she called “abberitions” (an unintentional portmanteau of “apparition” and “aberration”).  But I shouldn’t split hairs -- maybe they were just deviant ghosts?
 
By the time the tour was over, there were only a few bars and restaurants open and we were starving!  Luckily, we hit the motherlode at the Longhorn Restaurant.  We were both impressed when the waiter brought out what appeared to be a metal pizza pan supporting a Flintstones-sized slab of ribs for Kevin.  Challenge accepted!  (Full disclosure: two of those beers are mine.)

We woke the next morning feeling less-than-stellar (not sure if it was the excessive red meat consumption or the copious amounts of alcohol).  We decided to skip the unnervingly loud restaging of the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (which we had both already seen on a previous visit) in favor of quieter solitary pursuits.  Like getting a good look at the Worlds Largest Rosebush (planted in 1885 – it covers an area of 8,000 square feet).

On our way out of town we stopped in to check out the Boothill Graveyard.  Billy Clanton and the McLaury brothers (who died at the O.K. Corral shootout) are buried here.  Some of the epitaphs have made the graveyard occupants famous.  Who hasn’t heard this one:

“Here lies Lester Moore.  Four slugs from a .44.  No Les, no more.”

And this is the grave of George Johnson who must have never heard the phrase “Buyer beware”.  Back in the days of vigilante justice he made the unfortunate mistake of innocently purchasing what turned out to be a stolen horse.  His tombstone reads “He was right, we was wrong.  But we strung him up and now he’s gone.”  Poor George.

The Curious Case of the Blue Ox

Today we arrived at the van, loaded up our gear, and got ready to take a quick road trip down to Tombstone.  I had just pulled the van out of our spot in the RV Storage place and was watching through the windshield as Kevin did a quick walk-around (where he checks tire pressure, makes sure all the outside compartments are closed, etc.)  When he got to the front of the van he looked up at me scowling and shaking his head.  This did not bode well.  I turned off the ignition and joined him near the front bumper.  One glance at this and I was scowling, too:

In that photo, it doesn’t look like much, but there are a couple of large chunks missing from the fiberglass bumper (the white spots near the step).  Here’s a close up:

There were all kinds of other cracks that led all the way up to one of the bolts holding the bumper in place.  Bummer, this was not the way we wanted to start our trip.  But how did it happen?  Like Sherlock Holmes and a very grumpy Watson, we approached the scene of the crime. 

Our RV storage place tries to conserve on space by fitting two vehicles into one long covered spot, usually a longer Class A Motorhome (looks like a huge bus) and a smaller vehicle (like our Class B van, or a short trailer, etc).  There’s a thin line of white spray paint indicating the boundary between the two spaces and Kevin was sure we had parked well behind it.  He began investigating a big Class A rig and noticed a very sharp tow bar at the back of it.  “I think this is what did it,” he said triumphantly.  I helpfully pointed out that he was not standing in our parking spot (H73) but in the empty spot next to us (H74).  Can you guess who was playing the part of Dr. Watson in this detective scenario?  Sure enough, when we moved the investigation over to our actual parking spot we noticed that not only did the motorhome sharing our spot have a sharp pointy tow bar, but there was also a debris trail of blue fiberglass leading up to where the front bumper of our van would have been.  A clue!  Here is a mugshot of the culprit:


If you look closely, you can even see a speck of our fiberglass on the pointy end of the apparatus.  Damn you, Blue Ox!
So off we trudged to the office to file an incident report with management.  It was pretty clear to us that the guy in the motorhome had backed into us, and when the manager came out and took a look at things, he concurred.  He said he knew the other owner so he’d contact him directly and have him give us a call.

There was nothing else to do at this point until we heard from the other guy, so we took a closer look at the bumper and realized it was still pretty firmly attached.  It was just a flesh wound and wouldn’t spoil our road trip to Tombstone, after all.  I guess our van is “too tough to die”.