I returned to the scene of the crime, the Motel 6 in Ridgecrest. The place where someone helped themselves to my tote of clothes. Not that I wanted to rub salt in a wound mind you, but this filled some needs. I already had their phone number, so it was easy to arrange. Ridgecrest had a church and a Home Depot. I needed some tools and lumber for repairs. It was sunny and 70s there. I needed some comfort conditions. And finally, it was the logical stopping off point for going through Death Valley.

The age of my camper and the dampness of Yosemite caused some sagging in the sleeping bay I use. It’s the larger of the two. The two pieces that make up that deck were pulling apart. So I had to devise a plan to support it better from underneath, and purchase what I needed to accomplish this. The previous owner had built a support that he used because both he and his wife slept in that bay. And they were not small people. But the one he gave me with the camper was at home, up in the rafters of my garage.

So after showering two days in a row (What!), church, having some great Mexican food, and watching a little Elite Eight basketball, I set out across Death Valley to find a spot to fix the camper and get it dry again. And then came my first flat.