Or... Navigation on the Navajo Reservation
There is no denying that there has been much "progress" the last few years in GPS gadgets for the dashboard of motor vehicles. Just the same, I'm glad I've abstained, since it might have robbed me of a unique and memorable experience the other day.
I was taking a "shortcut" paved road, supposedly, from Cuba to Grants, NM. The trip began on a secondary dirt road on BLM land. The washboard was so bad that the sewer hose jiggled loose and fell off on the road. When I drove back to look for it, the old superstition about 'retreating being bad luck' came to mind.
As I headed west into the Navajo reservation I kept wondering why it was a dirt road road. The DeLorme and Benchmark atlases had never disappointed me before, except for a minor error here and there. Making a wrong turn isn't normally a big deal. In fact in the past I've accepted the outcome of wrong turns and just kept going, just to see where it would lead. But on the Navajo reservation there are no road signs. There's quite a spiderweb of dirt roads and all are unsigned. The best you can do is look at the sun to keep yourself from driving in circles, and choose the wider, smoother, dirt road.
At first I made an effort to keep a sense of humor about it. OK, so I screwed up. But surely I would hit a paved state highway sooner or later, and get back to civilization. But it didn't happen. What a strange delayed sinking feeling it is to admit to yourself that you are truly lost. It's a bit like drowning. Mile by mile the sense of fun disappeared and I became serious and worried.
The Navajo reservation makes Mexico look as organized as Switzerland. I tried to wave down a couple motorists but they ignored me. They drove those washboarded dirt roads at amazing speeds.
What if reservation police stopped me and chewed me out for trespassing on the reservation? Paleface is allowed to use the paved roads, but I wasn't sure about these secondary dirt roads. Then again, maybe I should actively look for reservation police and turn myself in -- at least I would find out where I was.
Finally somebody stopped and gave me directions to a federal highway that was only 5 miles away. I'm proud to say that my location was pretty close to where I thought it was, just by navigating with the sun and without a single road sign.
So what is the moral of this story? Should I rush out and buy a Tom Tom or Garmin for the dashboard. Hell no. I'll never stoop to those unmanly and unsporting gadgets. How is it "progress" to reduce travel to security, predictability, and blandness?
There is no denying that there has been much "progress" the last few years in GPS gadgets for the dashboard of motor vehicles. Just the same, I'm glad I've abstained, since it might have robbed me of a unique and memorable experience the other day.
I was taking a "shortcut" paved road, supposedly, from Cuba to Grants, NM. The trip began on a secondary dirt road on BLM land. The washboard was so bad that the sewer hose jiggled loose and fell off on the road. When I drove back to look for it, the old superstition about 'retreating being bad luck' came to mind.
As I headed west into the Navajo reservation I kept wondering why it was a dirt road road. The DeLorme and Benchmark atlases had never disappointed me before, except for a minor error here and there. Making a wrong turn isn't normally a big deal. In fact in the past I've accepted the outcome of wrong turns and just kept going, just to see where it would lead. But on the Navajo reservation there are no road signs. There's quite a spiderweb of dirt roads and all are unsigned. The best you can do is look at the sun to keep yourself from driving in circles, and choose the wider, smoother, dirt road.
At first I made an effort to keep a sense of humor about it. OK, so I screwed up. But surely I would hit a paved state highway sooner or later, and get back to civilization. But it didn't happen. What a strange delayed sinking feeling it is to admit to yourself that you are truly lost. It's a bit like drowning. Mile by mile the sense of fun disappeared and I became serious and worried.
The Navajo reservation makes Mexico look as organized as Switzerland. I tried to wave down a couple motorists but they ignored me. They drove those washboarded dirt roads at amazing speeds.
What if reservation police stopped me and chewed me out for trespassing on the reservation? Paleface is allowed to use the paved roads, but I wasn't sure about these secondary dirt roads. Then again, maybe I should actively look for reservation police and turn myself in -- at least I would find out where I was.
Finally somebody stopped and gave me directions to a federal highway that was only 5 miles away. I'm proud to say that my location was pretty close to where I thought it was, just by navigating with the sun and without a single road sign.
So what is the moral of this story? Should I rush out and buy a Tom Tom or Garmin for the dashboard. Hell no. I'll never stoop to those unmanly and unsporting gadgets. How is it "progress" to reduce travel to security, predictability, and blandness?
Comments
Apparently navigation devices aren"t full proof.
Box Canyon Mark
Men, and women, explored almost all of this earth long before GPS, even before maps. Having a GPS is not much help unless it shows your location on a map. You can follow your 'bread crumbs' back to where you started but without a map or known coordinates it is hard to go from A to B.
The GPS usefulness is in the urban world. The GPS has saved me gallons of fossil fuels -- as well as frustration -- when exploring those concentrated centers of humanity and motor vehicles.
Cutting back on driving does cost an RV traveler a certain amount of variety in his life.