T R AV E L
B Y S U S A N M . C O N N O L LY
SLAB CITY REVISITED
Free rent draws travelers to the California desert
W
e first heard about Slab City more than 10
years ago from Mike, an alley neighbor in
the Whit. Mike, a retired man of
60-something, had been wintering annually
at Slab City for many seasons. Mike’s tales
of a community of travelers enjoying free camping in the
California desert near the Salton Sea intrigued us. A few
months later, in November 2003, my husband, Dan, and I
set out pulling “Big Al,” our 30-foot 1982 silver Avion
trailer (Airstream’s lesser-known cousin), for a year’s trip
around North America. Our curiosity dictated that our first
stop was Slab City.
Slab City is a former Marine training base, about 600
acres in the Mojave Desert. The buildings were demolished
after WWII, leaving the slab foundations — hence the
name. Over time, people started camping there and
continue to do so to this day. Opinions differ as to the exact
owner of the land, but all agree it is an agency of the state
of California. Slab City sports a church, an outdoor library,
a hot spring, sometimes a newsletter, an outdoor community
center named “The Range” featuring surprisingly good
music on Saturday nights, a singles camping area termed
“Loners on Wheels,” a rudimentary internet café complete
with wi-fi and coffee and, I’m told, a nude camping area.
What Slab City does not have is electricity, water, sewer
system, paved roads, police department or formal
government. The few children who live in Slab City are
picked up by the local school district bus and trucked to
Niland, and the local sheriff makes calls as needed to keep
the peace.
A cadre of regulars (or renegades as they are sometimes
known) live there year-round. As summer temps reach
100-plus degrees, this is quite an accomplishment sans air
conditioning and often even a generator for a fan. The year-
round population is about 200, and as a rule, the hardy
regulars don’t live high on the hog and most of their
vehicle dwellings are makeshift.
I find it fascinating that this group of renegades lives
peacefully with a very different group. The snowbirds
arrive in early winter, swelling the population to about
2,000, and leave the following spring. Their vehicles tend
to be larger, fancier motor homes, most with generators,
bathrooms and some solar panels and satellite dishes.
I believe Slab City has been allowed to continue for
these 60-some-odd years due to the presence of the
snowbirds. If the community consisted only of the regulars
it would have been shut down long ago. The ability of
these two disparate groups to successfully live together is
impressive and admirable, and due mainly to the efforts of
the community leaders. Some residents have drug, alcohol
and mental health problems, but enough folks with clear
heads are around that the community seemed successful.
It had been 10 years since our earlier visit. Dan and I
arrived in our tiny camper van in search of warmth this
past January. We ditched soggy, foggy Eugene; our aim
was sunny Arizona by way of sunny Southern California. I
was eager to see if Slab City had changed.
We found that Slab City’s existence is now in jeopardy.
According to Merle, one of the regulars, the California
EPA had tested the soil in the area and determined the site
is contaminated. None of the residents seemed to know
what caused the contamination. The state had concluded
the land must be sold so the state would not be liable for
problems resulting from contamination. Merle observed
two factions of residents: The first believes if they do
nothing, nothing will change. The second believes Slab
City must incorporate, buy the site for $1, clean it up a bit
and manage it.
Most of us tend to believe customs will continue and
wild places will forever remain open to us. For me, this
notion was disproved this last summer when the Lane
County Commission closed walk-in access to our naked
beach on the Willamette River. Dan and I enjoyed the river
for 20 summers and I taught three of our grandchildren to
swim there; now it’s gone. In addition, sadly, this past
summer, the owners of the majorly cool hot springs on the
Alvord Desert in the Steens Mountains literally “paved
paradise and put in a parking lot” and now charge $20 for
a soak. This was another wild spot that Dan and I, along
with untold others, had respectfully and gratefully enjoyed
for close to 30 years.
At the time of our January visit to Slab City, the realistic
thinkers were busily trying to convince the others that
action was necessary in order to keep their adopted home.
On a Sunday afternoon, I walked up to the community
outdoor area and found democracy in action complete with
arguments. I loved it. I stayed for the vote count and spoke
with several residents. Merle, a 60ish, rather stylish, well
groomed, retired Marine, former Eugenean, full-time RVer
and part-time resident, was counting the vote with lots of
oversight. A 30-something, heavily tatooed woman,
sporting wildly colored make-up and knee socks, appeared
to be the parliamentarian. She answered all queries
regarding voting and procedures with confidence and skill
while seated in her wheelchair.
I first heard “Jack Two-Horses” drunkenly yelling
various election-related complaints. Jack was 40ish, tall,
slender, shirtless with dreadlocks. Jack was running for one
of the board positions. One of the women who appeared to
be organizing the election, Lynne, said Jack was a good
man and she had voted for him. When the votes were later
tallied, Jack got one vote from himself, one from Lynne
and one from an unknown fan. Lynne said Jack had,
unfortunately, started celebrating early and was just “a
little drunk.” Further, it had been a tough last two weeks,
according to Lynne. The community meeting about the
election drew 150 participants, and Lynn said most of them
had a thought or two and expressed them at length.
Dan said he’d love it if we had that level of community
participation at our condo board meetings!
Four new board members were elected: Lynne, sporting
a silver pony tail, a mid-60s Canadian, and according to
Merle, a woman who “gets things done around here”;
Builder Bill, a late 60ish man, creator of The Range and the
weekly Saturday night music jams; Preacher Dave; and
Christina. I didn’t find out anything about the last two
candidates, but they sure got lots of votes!
I spoke with Merle, Lynne and others about changes in
Slab City. I had noticed the increase in garbage and
seemingly abandoned RVs and ramshackle huts. Lynne
said a recent dump closure had forced residents to travel 20
miles to the nearest garbage transfer station and that many
folks did not have a working vehicle and/or gas money.
Lynne also noted an increase in young travelers caused, at
least in part, by the inclusion of Slab City in the 2007
movie Into the Wild. In the film, based on a true story by
Jon Krakauer, a young man stops by Slab City on his way
to Alaska, where he dies alone in the wilderness.
Lynne said these young travelers brought the kinds of
problems young people with little resources and plenty of
“party spirit” can bring with them. Lately, she said there
had been an influx of middle-aged women who expected
others to provide everything from free electricity to toilet
paper. Lynne offered no opinion as to what had attracted
the middle-aged women — middle-aged men, perhaps?
We met three young travelers who were camping near
us. Chubs (not at all chubby), a 20-something young man
with a sweet face, was traveling in a small sedan with three
friends. Chubs and his friends had left cold Indiana to
follow motorized pedal bike shows and stopped by to visit
Slab City. Other neighbors were Heather and AJ who said
they were former “ski bums” from Colorado. Heather was
decked out in a hippie dress and hair similar to my 1970s
attire; AJ was more contemporary with a spiked hair-do. I
spotted a small tent at their campsite; their bathroom
arrangements were anyone’s guess. I didn’t meet any
middle-aged women seeking electricity or toilet paper;
perhaps they had all moved on.
I have hope that Slab City will continue as a viable
community. The changes planned by the elected leaders are
sound, and it appeared the plans have a good chance to
succeed. I wish them well.
Moving on, Dan and I next visited our friend Sue at the
Howling Coyote RV Campground in tiny Why, Ariz. The
campground started out many years ago as a free camping
place in the desert. Similar to Slab City, years ago the
government agency owner insisted on incorporation and
management. Today, The Howling Coyote offers a modest,
but nice, club house with many, many books, free computer
use and wi-fi, a kitchen and restrooms and multiple
activities. It is inexpensive. Sue’s sweetie Steve has rented
his ultra-huge lot there for 20 years for the sum of $550 a
year. As travelers, we paid $9 a night. The Howling Coyote
was very clean, organized, had laundry and indoor
plumbing and was still very cheap. Perhaps this is the
future of Slab City? ■
Susan Connolly of Eugene is a semi-retired former legal investigator, attorney,
co-owner of The Children’s Hour Nursery and Preschool and child welfare
social worker. She lives with her husband and tends her terrace garden high
above downtown Eugene with her daughters and five grandchildren living
nearby. Her earlier story about her travels can be found on our website.
eugeneweekly.com • May 8, 2014
13