Having become a temporary motor home resident of Aspen, I now understand why former resident Hunter S. Thompson occasionally felt the need to fire his weapons at the neighbors. The ultra rich and their trust fund babies, who travel in and out of remote Aspen largely by private jets, can provoke righteous gunfire. I chose to simply get along and have a great time.
Aspen does a pretty good job of discouraging motor home types like me from feeling at home. Its remote location beyond narrow mountain passes, its two hour street parking limits and its elimination of camping facilities has made the motor home camper all but extinct.
During the few days that I hung out in Aspen the only motor home/vans I saw were mine, Dave’s (of LivesinaVan.com fame) and an old camper van owned by an itinerant photographer named Brett. We were so rare that we actually took a photo of our three camper vans side by side, like a group photo for the members of the not yet formed “Aspen Mobile Residents Union”.
During the 4th of July weekend the Aspen airport was jammed packed with private jets and clubs were crawling with trust fund kids getting their kicks. This was the true “Jet Set”.
Dave (who LivesinaVan.com) and I felt a bit like wedding crashers who some how managed to infiltrate this exclusive world by sneaking over a mountain pass and into their town in our vans.
Wendy, a bright and beautiful woman we met while camping, joined us in Aspen for the 4th of July. We watched the fireworks over the mountain hills in Aspen, while singing the Star Spangled Banner. Can it really get any more all American than that?
After the 4th we all went our separate ways. Dave continued his journey West to Utah, while Wendy returned to her home in Denver. I ventured North through the mountains and then East through the Great Plains on my way to Minneapolis/St. Paul. I expect to rendezvous with Dave at the Burning Man Festival in the Black Rock Desert in Northwest Nevada at the end of August.
Next Stop – the Great Plains of the USA