4k Miles. 6 States. 7 National Parks. 16 Days in a Van – Leg 1
“a dense forest of towering saguaros reaching their arms skyward, interspersed with a tapestry of other desert flora”
Check out the start of this journey:
Leg 1 Travel Map – 955 miles
A very late start…
I started out in Placerville late that afternoon at 2:30pm. I was aiming to stealth camp in front of my sister’s place in LA — hoping to surprise her in the process. I’d driven the I-5 before and it’s a brutally long, hot, and boring drive through the heart of the valley.
A buddy recommended California State Route 99 instead. It’s got more lanes and slightly better views — a little less soul-sucking. I’d done bits of it before and figured it was worth a shot.
But SR99? It’s weird. Everyone passes in the far right lane, and the far left lane is full of slowpokes just lumbering along. It’s total chaos. I’m not the type to clog traffic — I like to keep moving — so I joined the parade of right-lane speeders (guiltily). Honestly, there should be a special ring in hell for people who drive slow in the fast lane.
The drive was decent. You could see the Sierras off in the distance, the farmland wasn’t bad, and it definitely beat the I-5. I pulled into a gas station in Fresno around 7pm and cooked dinner in the parking lot — my second attempt at air fryer french fries (pic on right). They were a big step up from attempt #1 (left pic).
I had a decision to make: stealth camp in Fresno’s industrial zone (not a bad option after seeing it imo) or push on to LA. I had a second wind, so I kept driving. I arrived in LA around 10:15pm, called my sister (no answer — probably asleep), and stealth camped in front of her place. Lights off. Quiet neighborhood. A quick leg stretch walk, a hot shower, and then bed. 7 plus hours of driving had me bushwhacked.
Rough first night. They usually are. You’re adjusting to the space and city noise. Morning lawnmowers woke me up. I snapped a pic of the house across from my sister’s and texted it to her.
She was shocked. We hung out while I ate breakfast, and she showed me some updates around her place. She offered a spot for the night, but as soon as I sat down, I knew — I had to hit the road. I felt the pull of the miles ahead. I was restless. Anxious to get going.
Avoid LA in an RV at all costs
Left LA too late and hit brutal traffic. LA traffic in an RV — even a small one — is soul-crushing. You give someone space and they immediately cut you off and slow down. It’s madness. I don’t blame people for not wanting to be stuck behind a van, but if you are going to cut me off, speed up please.
I punched in “Imperial Sand Dunes” and was gunning for it once traffic broke near Beaumont, CA. I was toast and getting more tired by the second. Road weary doesn’t begin to describe how I felt. I passed the Joshua Tree NP exit and almost took it just to get some sleep — but pushed on. GPS said I’d get to the dunes at 9pm, but when I got there it didn’t look right. It led me to a random gate on the highway. The campground I wanted, Gecko, was still 45 minutes away. Ugh. LA traffic had made this leg longer than my drive from Placerville to LA.
Pro tip: Feeling tired while driving, play your favorite songs and sing along with them.
I finally reached Gecko Campground near 10pm. Ranger station? Closed. Camping pass? Nowhere to be found. I didn’t want to roll up in the dark to a quiet campground with no idea of the rules, so I backtracked to a nearby area called “The Pads.”
There were a few RVs there with lights on, and I chatted with some friendly dudes at Pad 2. They told me not to sweat the pass and that rangers hadn’t been by in days. Bless those guys.
The pads are large concrete slabs right off the main road, but they are covered in sand. The sand on the concrete is shallow enough so that any car should be able to drive on them without getting stuck. The sand off in the distance looked like it would stop my van in 4×4 mode it was so deep and heavy looking.
I parked at Pad 1.5, cooked some air-fried sockeye salmon, took a walk, and finally relaxed. Another late night. Not ideal. But it’s what happened.
Not too shabby for a late night rush job. I love that air fryer and having the amp hours to power it:
Didn’t get to bed until after 1am, and woke up around 7am. The van was heating up fast. Luckily, I’ve got 600Ah of lithium batteries thanks to my RoamRig Stage 3 upgrade. That means: van AC, even while parked! I cooled down the cabin, popped in noise-canceling headphones with white noise (the AC is right overhead and deafening), and snagged another hour of sleep. It was glorious.
After breakfast, I drove up to Gecko to actually see it in the daylight. The sand looked Hawaiian — soft and golden. Decent sites, vault toilets, and people tearing around in dune buggies. I’d never seen that subculture up close. These folks love their custom rigs. I definitely want to come back and rent one sometime.
Driving out, the dunes just opened up — vast and epic. I saw a few rental spots too. Gorgeous place. The area sprawled for miles. Man, I would hate to run out of gas out there
Fulfilled Urgest and Parasocial Connections
Next stop: Yuma, Arizona. I needed a USB cable for my Ring camera — part of my plan to connect it to Starlink Mini so I could keep eyes on the van from afar (especially when I wander off in places like Santa Fe).
Grabbed the cable at Best Buy — and sidenote: I used the bathroom there. Cleanest public toilet of the trip. Best Buy is an underrated pit stop for vanlifers needing to take care of business. 💩
Post-Best Buy, the heat hit hard — 105°F. Even with AC, I was cooked. I needed a swim. Pools? Closed. So I looked for something else.
Colorado River popped up — with a beach! Perfect. But I wasn’t swimming just yet, so I hit a Sprouts nearby to pick up a few things I forgot to pack.
Now here’s where things got weirdly amazing. I’d heard of Yuma through one of my favorite vanlife influencers — Nomad Brad a total box truck rig legend. As I pulled into the Sprouts lot… I spotted his rig. No mistaking it.
I don’t get starstruck, but parasocial YouTube connections hit different. I walked inside and there he was. Introduced myself, told him I’d been following his channel and loved his growth this past year. He was super cool. I was kind of gushing like a teenage girl. It was weird, and I felt embarrased.
I ran into him again in the parking lot. Told him how surreal it was to see him and he yells back, “Well, I’m a real person!” He seemed cool. I would have liked to talk more with him but the Colorado River was calling me.
I left Sprouts in Yuma still buzzing a little from the surprise Nomad Brad sighting. There’s something surreal about crossing paths with someone you’ve only known through a screen, especially in a random grocery store parking lot, in a town you’ve never been to, on a day that’s already packed with heat, miles, and sweat. It’s one of those moments where the universe winks at you.
It was time for that swim!
Swimming in a stationary pool AKA the Colorado River
The GPS guided me to my riverside oasis: Gateway Park. The Arizona sun blazed down on a bustling scene of splashing families and happy swimmers. A few figures cruising the parking lot cast a slightly unsettling vibe, a reminder to stay aware even in moments of relaxation.
I dipped a toe in the water – perfection! It felt like a refreshing 70 degrees, a welcome contrast to the scorching air. Definitely surf trunk weather. My recently acquired wetsuit could wait for potentially chillier waters further down the road.
The cool embrace of the Colorado River was pure bliss, a welcome escape from the desert heat. The current possessed a playful yet persistent pushback, offering a delightful resistance that allowed me to swim at a steady clip while making slow progress upstream. It was a natural treadmill of sorts. Periodically, I’d surrender to the flow, flipping onto my back to float downstream, my gaze drifting towards my parked van. A familiar twinge of anxiety accompanied this relaxation – that ever-present awareness of my rolling home, my lifeline, sitting vulnerable in the parking lot, especially with those shady characters lingering.
Then, a truly surreal experience unfolded: I continued my freestyle stroke as a long train thundered across the elevated tracks high above, a fascinating juxtaposition of raw nature and the pulse of human transit. It was fantastic, this unique intersection of the wild and the constructed world.
Feeling rejuvenated and clean after a quick shower, I dried off and pointed the van towards the Picacho KOA.
Onward to Saguaro: KOA Showers, Epic Skies, and the Cactus Cathedral
With a bag of groceries and a charged-up spirit, I headed toward my KOA Kamground reservation in Picacho. It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive east into the desert, and I was watching the sun begin to dip behind me. The low, golden rays lit up the desert scrub brush and distant rocky hills with that dusty pink-orange glow you only get in the Southwest, blinding me in my side view mirror. I threw on a podcast, cracked the window, and rolled through the heat and silence. Nothing quite like the road when you’re tired but satisfied with your decisions.
I pulled into the KOA just after sunset. I was so ready for a legit shower. The site was quiet, clean, and surprisingly green considering the surrounding landscape. The office was closed, but I had my reservation and saw it posted on their “late arrivals” board.
First order of business: hot shower. No trying to conserve water, no claustrophobic van rinse. Just a good old-fashioned take-your-time scrub. After that, I cooked up dinner—some salmon and vegetable air stir fry. Yes. I only have so much ingredients and they will start to look familiar if they don’t already! I’m lucky I don’t mind repetition.
The KOA had a kind of peace to it that I hadn’t felt in the last couple days. No wondering where I’d sleep. No late-night GPS reroutes or spooky campgrounds. Just me, the van, and a few other travelers tucked into their own corners of this little desert oasis. I went to bed early, for once. No alarms. No stress. Just sleep.
I could sense the cacti greatness that was coming:
Enter Saguaro National Park
I woke up around 7AM and took care of some maintenace issues outside the van while the air was still cool. There’s something about the morning desert air—it’s crisp in a way that feels like it’s apologizing for the inferno that’s coming later. I packed up, added some new water, dumped the gray water, and aimed the van toward Saguaro National Park.
When I stopped for gas, I knew I was in for some seriously large cacti.
Driving into the park, the cacti start to multiply. Slowly at first. Then they start to gather in groups. Then they rise up like a forest. It’s unreal. These aren’t just plants—they’re giants, guardians, silhouettes in the sky.
The landscape began its dramatic transformation as I entered the western district of Saguaro National Park. It was a world unlike any I’d witnessed before – a dense forest of towering saguaros reaching their arms skyward, interspersed with a tapestry of other desert flora. The sheer scale and unique character of this cactus realm were truly breathtaking, far surpassing the impact of any photograph I had ever seen. TBH, photographs of this place, mine included, are underwhelming compared to reality.
My first stop was the visitor center, a necessary pilgrimage for park information and, of course, souvenirs. I picked up a cool glass sippy cup that was shaped like a cactus, knowing my wife would love its desert-themed design, and a new hat to shield myself from the relentless sun. With a quick consultation of the park map, I decided to ease into exploration with a short hike on the Desert Discovery Nature Trail.
Stepping out of the air-conditioned van and onto the trail felt like entering a furnace. The heat was immediate and intense, easily topping the 100-degree mark. Even for a short loop, I made sure to have water on hand. The trail wound through a captivating array of cacti – majestic saguaros with their multiple arms, prickly pear pads like flattened beaver tails, and the delicate beauty of cholla. Yet, the oppressive heat leached my energy with every step. It was beautiful, undeniably, but the intensity of the desert sun was a force to be reckoned with. My throat hurt the air was so dry. The humidty gauge in my van read 5%.
Back in the welcome coolness of the van, I reassessed my plans. The thought of battling Tucson traffic in this heat to explore the eastern district felt increasingly unappealing. While Saguaro was undoubtedly a cool park, I had a sense that the core aesthetic – the iconic saguaro landscape – might become somewhat repetitive. I opted instead for the scenic Bajada Loop Drive.
I drove by this picnic area, and though I couldn’t put my finger on it, something about it wasn’t quite right:
The Bajada Loop offered some lovely elevated vistas, providing a broader perspective of the sprawling desert. However, the fundamental scenery, while impressive, echoed what I had already experienced on the nature trail.
The Road was pretty easy going and just about any car could handle it in dry conditions. It was a little dusty and very hot, but I enjoyed the drive from the inside of the van with the AC blasting. It’s a 6 mile loop. Be prepared for it to take a fair amount of time as I don’t recommend driving fast as there were other people on the loop.
Petroglyphs were easy to see at the scenic overlook…What’s the difference between graffiti and petroglyphs? About 1,000 years and a National Park willing to pretend it’s “significant.” One is vandalism, the other gets a Federal budget. These are the kinds of thoughts you have when traveling solo.
It was hot, I was already tired, and it was time to blow through Tucson and head into New Mexico. I knew going into this trip that I’d have to push through the southern parts of these states quickly so I could slow down and spend more time up north, where most of the places I actually wanted to see were. Sometimes that’s just how it goes—this trip was front- and back-loaded with some serious driving. Also, the south was hotter than I’d expected for late March, and my undies were starting to sweat. I don’t like to be in my van above 70 degress if it can be helped.
When I’m older and retired, I will savor areas like Tucson and this park more, but today there were miles I needed to devour.
Check out the next leg of this galloping galant
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