STEALTH

Welcome Centers    Rest Areas    City Streets    Hotel/Motel Lots    Planet Fitness 24/7's

Welcome Centers:

    Now, where, oh where, would a traveler seem to be more welcome than at a Welcome Center?  And I've never been booted out of one (yet).  But I still approach them with stealth.  Some post signs limiting you to certain lengths of stay, others post "No Overnight Parking" signs.

    But it's natural as a roadtripper to set your goal for the night as The Next State Line.  Yeah, I made it to California by midnight!  Now what??  Most states have their Welcome Center within a few miles of their border.  Though their advice and such is only available during standard work hours, the lots (and rest rooms) never close.  Strangely enough, though, California has one on I-5, just about halfway between the Oregon and Mexico borders, and also about halfway between Nevada and the Pacific Ocean.  Seems to be an odd choice.

    One huge flaw in the No Overnighters edict is the trucking industry.  In that regard, truckers are a roadtripper's best friends.  If they can stay the night, then you can stay the night, right, Dwight??

    I have, on a few very rare occasions, parked in the truck lot, but I am careful about where I plant myself.  Settling my 20-foot-long van into the last full 53-foot diagonal spot that a road-weary 18-wheeler pilot would covet is risking ire and wrath.  If I do venture into that lot, I go to the outer edge or park in a short space between rigs that no full-size "articulated lorry" (as the Brits call them) would fit anyway.

    That happened in Germany when I drove my rented Wicked Campers Toyota minivan -- nicknamed Misfit -- into the last rest area before entering the Black Forest Region at dusk.  It was just a long turnout, with no facilities, but 18-wheelers filled it end-to-end.  I pulled in at the very tail of the line, barely beyond the big arrow sign that steered me in there from the 2-lane highway. 

    I was there for a little while, sitting in the driver's seat and doing some laptopping, when I noticed a big rig pull in slowly from the road.  The driver looked far forward, then looked my way. When our eyes met, he made a questioning gesture, with his hands beside his head.  At first, I was puzzled, then I recognized it as a pillow gesture, like "are you going to be sleeping in that spot tonight?" 

    I nodded yes.  He looked forward and gave a stern shrug, which, if in English, would have pretty much meant "Damn it," or even "Fuck."  And he rolled slowly forward.  I returned to my laptopping.

    A minute or two later, I perceived that same rig backing up very slowly till it was beside me.  The driver got out, so I did too. 

    He spoke no English and I spoke no German, so this was bound to be a winner of an exchange.  But through just a few wide-arm versus narrow-hands gestures, I caught his drift.

    There was a small space between two rigs way farther up that my mini would fit just fine in, and he would barely (and legally) squeeze in where I was without sticking his butt end out into traffic.

    Once it clicked, I nodded eagerly, gave him a thumbs-up in my best German accent, and moved Misfit way up into that space.  I got lucky in that neither the rig in front of me nor, especially, the rig behind me was running its engine all night.  I was tucked in the cradle for a good Bavarian night's sleep.

    My best Truckers Tale, though, was domestic.  2005 was the year and Moby was my chariot.  We had indeed made a goal-oriented run across AZ to reach the CA border by midnight -- just cuz, y'know?  (It's one of those beat-the-time runner things, ya gotta just roll with those.)  I had made it with a few minutes to spare and was proud as all get-out of my bad self.  Rand McNally showed a Welcome Center just across the state line, so I knew I would be fine.

    But, no, no, Jojo!  That Golden State Welcome Center was barricaded, dark, and very CLOSED.  Rigs lined the roadside for well more than a mile beyond it.  Some of them, I'm sure, had no choice.  They had maxed out their driving time/miles for the day and had it in The Plan that this was where they were to stop for the night.

    But, for me, dog-tired though I was, I pressed onward.  Now, this was I-10, not some dinky state highway, and, as my luck would have it, it was getting a bigtime facelift.  Everything from the border westward was being changed out:  pavement, lights, exit signs, guard rails, mile markers, road lines, and all but a few reflectors.  Normally, I revel in brand-new asphalt, so black and smooth, but this was inky dark everywhere I looked.  And, as luck would have it, I was the only car on the road.  If not for those few leftover reflectors along the roadside, I would have had no clue what was road and what was empty abyss.

    This went on for quite a few miles.  I thought about just pulling up onto the shoulder, but (a) I couldn't see it, and (b) I didn't want some half-asleep driver smashing into me in the darkness.

    Finally, after quite a while, I saw a line of trucks along the right-hand side of the road.  The line went on and on, easily a mile long.  It led to an exit ramp that dropped down into a huge, dirt parking lot.  A small sign read "Desert Center".  The lot was filled to capacity with 18-wheelers.  There had to be 200 of those beasts in this lot.  They were jammed in like sardines.  (Huge, metallic sardines, sure, but sardines just the same.)

    I spied my sliver of refuge and went for it.  There was one small tree in the lot and there was just enough space under its branches to squeeze a van, but not a truck.  I grabbed it, pulled my leopard-skin-pattern sarong/curtain shut and tumbled onto my bed and into Z-land.

    The white noise of the truckers lulled me to sleep.  I tuned it out well.  Too well, apparently, because when the brightness of the desert morning sunshine finally nudged my eyelids open, and I finally stirred enough to rise and open my curtain, I was astounded to see that I was the ONLY vehicle left in the lot!!  200 rigs and roared to life, rolled and rumbled past me in a cloud of dust, and I had blissfully snoozed through the whole cacaphonous mass exodus.  WT-effing-F?

    So, yeah, Welcome Centers.

    In 2022, I used a couple:  Georgia, West Virginia, Connecticut

Rest Areas:

    These are odd.  They vary so much from state to state.  In Massachusetts, if you stay longer than it takes to empty a bladder or buy and eat a slice of Sbarro's pizza, you are viewed as Trouble.  There was a stretch of time when the commonwealth had their panties in a bunch about some rest areas being occasionally used as gay hook-up spots.  Their solution:  close the rest area to everyone.  And they closed a LOT of them!  WTF kind of paranoid, homophobic logic is that??  Make everyone suffer because a few guys a day were looking to get some in the woods?

ALLIGATOR ALLEY

    Some RA's give you a time limit.  One of my all-time favorite go-to overnight stops was the large both-side-of-the-highway complex in the middle of Alligator Alley (I-75) through the Everglades across the southern tip of the Florida peninsula.  Plenty of parking, good rest rooms, tall palm, wide open glades all around.  At some point, though, signs had gone up designating a 3-hour limit.

    So, one night, with quite a few vans and campers and cars parked and in Relax Mode, this uniformed dude in his official little gas golf cart decides to play Stan The Stickler and starts booting us out.  I had pulled in at about 9:30, so right at 12:30 AM, he comes knock-knock-knocking at my door, rudely yelling that my three hours was up and I had to get out.  He proceeded to a couple other vehicles, doing the same thing.  WTF, Chuck?

    I tried ignoring him, but he proved to be a persistent pest.  Came back with vigor.  Must have been his first night on the job or something.  It wasn't worth fighting over.  Grudgingly recognizing that he would not relent, and knowing full well that there was an unmanned Recreation Area lot just 10 minutes down the road, I rolled eastward and was parked and sound asleep in 20 minutes.  Still, what a turd that dude was.  Everyone I have told that little tale too has also been in disbelief.  It has been a fave night spot for just about everyone I know who regularly rides the Alley.

    So, if you have not been there for a while, be forewarned...

SUNSHINE SKYWAY REST AREA

    So here it was, late afternoon, sun shining brilliantly on a rare non-humid day, and no particular place to go.  I had the entire Tampa Bay area at my beck and call:  restaurants, bars, downtown area, theaters, you name it. 

    So where does Rick go?  To a freaking bridge.  Yup, the Sunshine Skyway, the stretch of I-275 that spans the mouth of the bay, and connects St. Petersburg with Terra Ceia.

    I became enamored of this bridge when I first came upon it -- brand new! -- in the late 1980's.  This version of the bridge was completed in 1987.  There had been another (not as stylish) from 1954 to 1980, but two disasters within 5 months, that resulted in a combined 58 deaths, and structural damage to the old bridge, brought about the change.  (Read all about it in Wikipedia.)

    The sleek, 430-foot-tall cable towers and long approach -- up-and-over is 4.14 miles -- struck my fancy right away, and on subsequent visits to the area, I've often opted for the bridge route through Tampa rather than the belt route around it, despite far heavier traffic north of the SSB.

    This time, I had no destination whatsoever, so I wanted to drive it south-to-north, wheel about at the northside rest area, and come back across north-to-south.  Such an idle thing to do, eh?  Fukkit, I enjoy driving over this bridge.

    The whole experience was only 8.28 miles, so it didn't take very long.  Still, I got some coolo pics and had fun.

      I pulled into the southside rest area and looked for a spot to relax and enjoy sundown.  Both sides of the Skyway have a huge bonus area:  Fishing Piers!  They are long, sturdy concrete with plenty of room for vehicles.  They are open all night, and cost only $4 to enter.

      BUT, they do not allow RV's, and despite my earnest claim that I was in a van, not an RV, they turned me away.  I guess they saw through my ruse and knew I'd just be sleeping there, whereas all the pick-up trucks out there had bigass coolers outside the cab to store the smelly fish.  Nobody seemed to have an interior fish cooler.

      Undaunted, I retraced my tracks back towards the rest area.  It's about a mile-long dirt road between the two, and quite a few people were hanging out.  Most were fishing, but others were just chillin' out in folding chairs, watching the sun sink seaward.

      One such group had pitched a tent, and another fifth wheel had set up his generator behind his trailer.  Hmmmm, those folks were fixin' to spend the night. 

      Good enough for them, good enough for me.  I pulled Blue Max up just about onto the seawall itself, and declared myself Home Till Tomorrow.  Got me some righteous sunset pics, and awoke to a grand view as I swung open my side door...


      

City Streets:

    I went to Europe once.  It was in 2015.  I rented a Toyota campervan -- more accurately a minivan -- from a group called Wicked Campers for something like $45 a day.  Insanely good deal.  Insane enough to tolerate the crazy hand-painted exterior, and the very cramped interior, for 23 days, 8000-kilometers, and 18 nations. etc. 

    I stayed in a few hotels -- Paris (2 nights), Venice (1 night), Rome (1 night), and London (1 night, after turning the van in), but everything else was stealth camping.

    In my research prior to the trip, it was emphasized that "any legal space" was ripe for the plucking, so pluck with alacrity.  And I did.  There were some lots that I availed myself of, but more times than not, i just parallel parked curbside in an urban or semi-urban area and climbed in back to sleep: Dublin, Killarney, Glasgow, St. Andrew's (right beside the 18th green of the Royal & Ancient), Dover, Amsterdam, Prague, Innsbruck, Geneva, Monaco, and Calais.  The best was Monaco, where I squeezed my outrageously-painted Misfit between a Bentley and a Ferrari in front of a swank hotel for the night.

    Most recently, it worked like a charm for me right smackdab in the middle of downtown Lakeland, Florida.

    Almost all of those spots were metered parking spaces by day, but were still legal for parking after the pay hours expired.  So, between 9 PM and 8 AM, for instance, parking was legal and free.

    This is true of many places in the USA as well, though there are many others that prohibit overnight parking, so do your due diligence and, like Indiana Jones picking a "not the cup of a carpenter", choose wisely.  Read the signage carefully, but don't be surprised if some deputy pulls up behind you in Tupelo, Mississippi and spins his lights at you to "move along" even if the signage seemed to indicate otherwise.  You may well be right, you don't need an argument at that point.  Chances are that he is looking for Something To Do, and you do not want to be It.

    It also worked for me in downtown Manhattan (New York City), when four of us went to visit Patrick's sister in her tiny apartment.  Deeming my van more comfortable and sleeping Three Stooges style between snoring drunk guys, I opted for the street.  The meter was irrelevant for the night, so I had till morning to snooze there legally.

    (That was in the late 1980's, so I suspect that aspect has changed by now.  I can't imagine any space in NYC at any time of day is free now.)

Hotel Parking Lots:

    These are the bread-and-butter of stealth camping, if you ask me.  I have stayed at (not in) too many hotels to list, and I'm not sure I would want to announce where I've been, anyway.  That would take a lot of the stealth out of it, wouldn't it? 

    When I can, I use hotel lots that I have stayed in before, even if it was years before.  I don't want to pull in now and find out that the jig is up because somebody read this and screwed it up for me.

    But here is my general strategy for this very precious resource:

    > Act like you belong there!

           Park decisively, like you know exactly where you want to be

    >   Park near or between other cars

           Don’t park in the far-away corner, no real guest would do that

    > Kill lights immediately and close all curtains within a couple minutes of parking

    > Don’t play music or video unless very soft.  Use earbuds instead of speakers 

    > Back into your space, especially if there are bushes

            This will hide your license tag (if you only have a back one, like FL does)

            Not many places have lists of vehicle tags now, but they used to

    > If someone knocks, ignore it, pretend nobody is home.

            But if they are insistent, then the jig may be up, apologize politely and move on. 

    > Medium size and medium quality hotels/motels work best

            Hampton Inn, Holiday Inn Express, Marriott Courtyard and their ilk

            Can't afford (or won't spend the money on) nighttime security to patrol the lot

            Guests don't hang out in the lot, like they do at seedy motels (Motel 6, Super 8, etc.)

            Front desk staff is not ambitious enough (or paid enough) to bother with you

                If nobody complains about you, nobody at the desk will worry about you

    > If you survive the night undetected, do your wake up discreetly

            Do not linger, skedaddle calmly.

        Now, in my younger days, I violated that final caveat blatantly and often.  Numerous times, I would put on my running shoes and shorts, maybe a tank top, and sometimes even go for a short run.  More often, I'd splash some water on me in the right places to feign perspiration, go right into the lobby like a guest returning from his morning jaunt, grab a copy of USA Today, snag a pastry or two from the breakfast, and even be bold enough to grab a dip in the pool and towel to dry off with.

        In retrospect, all that was excessive.  Really excessive.  Like, please don't do it.  Ha.

        As part of my training as an employee of the Westin back in the 1990's, I was instructed to not challenge anyone who seems to "not belong."  Rather, I was to seek out a manager who would use her/his interpersonal skills to weed out the riffraff.  So, as long as you act like a guest would act, you might still get away with that shit.  To me, now, though, it's an envelope I won't push because I don't want to risk ruining a good thing for myself, or for you, by being an obnoxious dink.

    Also, I get wind that some hotels now look to nab you for trespassing instead of just telling you to GTFO, and that's something that will put a crimp in my day.  Not a fan of crimps.

Planet Fitness 24/7's

    These are recent -- and very welcome -- additions to this list:  the increasing number of Planet Fitness (PF) locations that are open 24 hours a day.  I list them as stealth because I assume you are not supposed to be staying overnight in their parking lot.  Obviously, parking needs to be allowed throughout the night, for that element of society that lives by night and sleeps by day, but staying the full night would almost certainly be frowned upon.

    Really, though, this has been possibly the best development in my decades of stealth camping. I still don't "camp" there, with lights ablaze and music throbbing, of course.  That would only draw attention to a problem that no one yet sees as a problem.  So I keep my profile low, my curtains drawn, and act invisible.

    PF is incredible anyway.  If you're not familiar with their concept, they are large, clean, attitude-free, inexpensive and ubiquitous.  My monthly Black Card Membership costs me $29 a month ($25, plus an annual fee) and that gives me access to ANY and ALL Planet Fitness locations world-wide.  I have full use of the spacious and well-equipped gyms, the free (though not always "secure") Wi-fi, the clean locker-rooms, the private showers, and the "relaxation areas" with their kickass HydroMassage beds and chairs.  Those things rock!

    If you only use your "hometown" location, then you pay only $10 a month.  And last summer, anyone between age 15 and 19 could workout from mid-May till mid-September FOR FREE!  That is an unbelievable thing for a chain of fitness centers to do.  How much more can you do to encourage the youth to get off their phone-phile asses and get into some exercise!  They are repeating the offer this summer too.  Awesome job, PF!

    Every location also has a lobby/lounge area where I can sit and chill (literally, in the AC) and work on my laptop, or whatever, for however much time I need.  I've laptopped for about three hours at times, editing photos, writing these pages, doing remote work.

    Not all PF's are 24/7, though.  Some close by mid-evening, others around midnight, and still others have short hours on weekends but go 24/5 during the week. 

    I try to park kinda close to the front door.  If I'm going to pass as a wee-hours workouter, it would seem odd to not be parked as close to the entrance as parking would allow, and at 2:30 AM, most near spots are gonna be available.  Being in the middle of the lot, under a shady tree, would only look suspicious -- especially if the gym is not even open.

    And, like everywhere else, I try to read my area well.  If it's the kind of parking lot that any nefarious activities might seem possible, then it's also possible that local law enforcement will be cruising through looking to roust anyone who is possibly nefarious (including stealthers).

    In my 2022 travels, I utilized the facilities at 23 Planets Fitness:  Norwood MA, Dedham MA, Rockford IL (very cool shower set-up!), Fargo ND, Casper WY, Salt Lake City UT, Tacoma WA, Wenatchee WA, Gresham OR, Eugene OR, Salinas CA, Las Vegas NV, Tempe AZ, San Antonio TX, Austin TX, 3 different ones in Charlotte NC, Tupelo MS, Tallahassee FL, Vero Beach FL (no Hydro!), Lauderhill FL, and Cape Coral FL (several times).