After stops in Tucson at Trader Joes, another stop in Mesa and a short stop in Payson, I arrived tired and road weary at Linda and Mike's campsite by 7:30am. The sun was just then rising over the arid mountain peaks and the cool shade gave way to rising temperatures.
I didn't hear them in their tents and assumed they were still sleeping, and went back to sleep until 9am when the sun shined on our faces, only to learn that Mike had left a note on his van door saying they had gotten up early to hit the hot springs, and to ask people at the campsite how to get to them.
The only person near the campsite that was awake was a man sleeping out in the open on a mat. He was more than happy to show me the way. Later did I discover that this man, "Tommie," was a professional con artist who survived by mooching food and beer off of campers and of targeting new arrivees like myself: about 6' tall and stocky, this man wore a perpetual smile, yet his eyes wandered, as if constantly scoping out the area. I guessed him to be in his late 30s, early 40s.
His campsite was below Linda's and near the water, where I took Sadie to for a drink. Our presence awakened Tommie and he immediately jumped at his opportunity to feel me out. When I asked him where the hot springs where, he told me he'd gladly show me the way.
Charming and sporting whiskers and wearing a large dark-green flannel shirt over black spandex pants, Tommie told me of his earlier days "following bands" and doing his share of drugs and alcohol. A drifter at heart, he travels all over the country, where ever his heart takes him. He makes money selling his jewelry and other handy talents. But where ever he went he seemed to have his collection of female friends, who all became "girlfriends" the longer he talked. He even had a meth-addicted girlfriend in Sierra Vista he had stayed with earlier this year.
He took me on a scenic trail along the Verde. We had to cross the river three times. Sadie refused to cross over on her own.
"Let me take her. I've trained three rottweilers" and bygawd, he grabbed Sadie by the leash and she followed him without a whimper. Although he had to keep on grabbing her for the other fordings, she refused the final crossing, a deeper and more swift crossing. She stayed on the opposite bank while I tried out the hot springs.
There was one lone couple there with a small boy, who left shortly after we got there. A few minutes later a large group of eight people and then four more later showed up. This crowd helped me get away from Tommie, who continued to assess the crowd.
"OK, which one of you works for the police department?" he asked the crowd, and one woman looked at him, smiled, and another one replied "I'm off duty here." Everyone in the pool wore clothes. Rightfully so.
Tommie went downhill from here and I was looking for a way out. He talked about his stash of weed in his blue backpack, the backpack he guarded with his life and carried around with him "to keep the forest service off his trail."
Linda and Mike had already left the hot springs, probably just before I arrived there at around 10am. I saw how Tommie got a young man to give him the last of his PBR stash (who drinks beer that early in the morning?) despite the man's obvious discomfort. While Tommie decided to throw out his fishing reel, I decided to explore the trail leading west along the ruins of the old Verde Hot Springs hotel that had burned down in 1962. Sadie watched from across the river, and as soon as she saw me walk away she followed me. I ended up crossing the river at a brisk but shallow and narrow stretch.
But Tommie had spotted me leave. We ended up walking back the same trail but when he wanted to fish some more, I bolted.
"I came here to visit my friends!" I said, and wanted to hook up with them. Tommie had surely preferred I spend the day with him hiking some back roads. The more he talked, the more his stories didn't seem believable.
My suspicions were realized when later Linda and Mike agreed that Tommie was a moocher and an alcoholic. "He came by for dinner last night" said Linda, "and he was all over me!" Tommie seemed to have a liking for Linda.
A few hours later I saw Tommie chatting with a small group of women. He was drinking their beer and they looked helpless, too.
"Casanova of the Open Road" I mused. If Tommie ever decides to write a book about his drifting conquests, that's the title he should give it.
But now, by 11am, I had found my friends and wanted to share time with them. We chatted, ate leftover breakfast (I brought out my stash) and talked about Tommie and the guys he was hanging out with.
"Martin said that Tommie and his group are all alcoholics and mooch off of others." said Linda. Martin was a man who had hitched-hiked in with Tommie but who left a day earlier.
After our late breakfast we hiked along the Verde River in the other direction, bushwhacking through thorny brush, mesquite and other flora. Sadie was by now comfortable crossing the river, thanks to Tommie's strong influence. I was very proud of her by now as she showed less fear and more trust in me.
We turned around at 3:20pm and made it to the campsite with enough sunlight to get dinner ready, an array of home-grown veggies from their garden. I brought out the Trader Joe's beer and shared, although I had my two beers and continued with water to get rid of my dehydration-induced headache. Just then Tommie strolled into the campsite again, sat down near us but left when he saw no food around. Our beer bottles were empty and the food eaten.
We were up until almost 9pm. It was getting chilly by then and I was tired. Linda and Mike both told me stories of "Old Sam," an elderly gentleman they had met who lives along the Verde River a few miles upstream from the hotsprings. Old Sam considers himself the guardian of the hotsprings and walks to the springs every day with his six red tick hounds, making sure people are not vandalizing the area or trashing it any more than it already is. Old Sam sounds like a man I'd love to meet.
We all went into our respective sleeping quarters for the night shortly after the last words were spoken. We were tired.
I made the mistake of leaving my car door unlocked, thinking that being next to Linda and Mike's tent that I'd be safe. Wrong. At 12:25am Tommie came by and opened my car door. I was fast asleep. He was clearly drunk.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked him, once I realized who he was (he was wearing a Forest Service Ranger hat that had me initially thinking he was a bona fide forest ranger). Forest Service rangers, however, do not open peoples' car doors; they instead knock on the window and shine their lights on you.
Surprised, and with Sadie barking profusely, Tommie got the hint.
"Will you quiet your dog down?" he then asked, rather annoyed.
"No, I'm not!" I answered back kurtly, praising Sadie for being on my side. No wonder he asked me earlier in the day if Sadie was an attack dog and if I had a weapon on me. And even though I had had my pistol by my side before going to bed, I was too disoriented to grab it right away. Some help that pistol was! But, in Tommie's defense, he had not touched me in away way for me to claim self defense. He clearly knew his boundaries but he did try to strech them out.
(The top photograph with Sadie shows Tommie in the background. I don't normally publish photos of people without their permission, but I think campers should be aware of this man)
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