|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
Quartzsite, Arizona
This barren, sun bleached valley floor is an entirely temporary home for North American snowbirds, who flock here every winter as the swallows do at Capistrano. At this dusty spot off Interstate 10 near the California border, even the palm trees look thirsty. When the rest of the country is cold and expensive, retirees, many on social security, trundle their motor homes to this parched piece of nowhere. For $120, they can park on government land for seven months. Others come in convoys. This year, for example, a pod of 600 land whales arrived from Wisconsin. They were immediately lost in the crowd. In January, Quartzsite is home to a huge gem and mineral show, and also an RV show. The mother of all flea markets is held here, with mile after mile of card tables and low-rent pitchmen selling everything from Ginsu knives to water softeners. This is where all the loose junk in your father's workbench drawer winds up. It's a sociological event. The main attraction for the pilgrims is each other, like a Woodstock for owners of large diesel pickups. It is inexpensive, chaotic, dusty, but always polite. At night, when thousands of generators in a sea of motor homes fire up, it sounds like an RAF aerodrome. There are more motor homes collected in Quartzsite than any other spot on the planet. How else could the trackless desert get this crowded?
© 2003 Daly Road Graphics Last modified: February 27, 2005 |
