Memories – Page 2 – Two Travelin' Chicas…

Driving while gringo

We are booking it back to Salt Lake City. We are about 30 miles outside Mesquite Nevada and our camp for the night.

Getting back into the FUSA was quite an experience.

We left San Filipe after visiting with our new friends we met on our beach in Playa La Escondida. They had come down for Laurie’s birthday and happened upon the Hidden Bar, our little beach bar, open everyday except Monday and Thursday. We sat at the table beside them and started talking like old friends. I found out that she had owls as a spirit animal and finally I understood who I was making the owls for. We grabbed dinner with them and then took off the next day.

It’s quite a slog all the way to the border from San Filipe in one day since the roads suck so bad. We pushed all the way to the border and arrived at around 1:30 or so. As was typical, there were no signs directing traffic so we cut into the double lane with a tall yellow curb preventing anyone from cutting in or out except at certain streets. The lanes were moving terribly slow and we remembered that we had global entry and that worked at the borders too. SO we got out of the slow lanes and went into the ACCESO lane.

Well that was a mistake.

So first three Mexicano Border guards desired to take a good look in the van, back utility boxes, bathroom, cabinets and then let us go. Next was the US border agents. It was then the mistake became clear. We were asked for our passports specifically. He said that since we decided to come down the wrong lane, we had to go through a secondary inspection. What? We informed him we had global entry and he said oh, well it’s too late now. We were directed into a stall, told to leave all electronics, including our watches and cellphones in the car and go sit in the office. We were told to open all the doors and hood.

In this room were two rows of chairs, backs to the window so we couldn’t watch them. I sat on an end chair and watched anyway. I had brought back 2 large scallop shells and stuck them in the outside pockets of the trash-a-roo, in plain sight. The inspector asked about them, where they came from? I told him and he was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to have them. The inspector got another inspector who allowed the shells and that was the end of it. Basically we were getting our hand smacked for being in the wrong lane. We were allowed to leave.

A few learned driving habits, good ones, died hard after crossing. In Baja, we MUST come to a COMPLETE stop at all stop signs, and anticipate which crossroads had, or were supposed to have a stop. When coming up on some bad potholes, an accident, or just slowing traffic, the 4 way blinkers come on, signaling an abrupt change in speed. There is no texting and driving since some towns have an access lane for businesses and a thru lane for traffic just passing by. This can create some tricky maneuvering as any car can turn left across all lanes from the far right lanes. Essentially making it a 6 way stop. At anytime, solid lines, curves or coming up on a hill, any vehicle will pass you, and with skinny lanes and no shoulders, this can be quite hairy and not recommended for us Gringos who are used to wide lanes. There are so many others that are just wonky but serve their purpose in Baja.

Well, we survived Baja once again. Traveling three months from top to southern tip and back again. We met new friends and caught up with longtime friends. We sat in the emptiness, created in one’s mind, while on a beach. Swam in the salty seas. Played upon the glassy bays with our paddle boards. Ate fresh caught fish, fresh veggies and fruits, and dabbled in new tasty treats while in Oaxaca. Time seemed to slow as we became alive with new experiences, like children in adult bodies, new discoveries fascinated us. Living with purpose, relaxing into a timeless existence. Accepting whatever came our way, without needing to change it as it unfolded. Living in the moment, not the past or future, just in the moment.

A fast paced life? Not for me

In the last 75 days, we’ve traveled the entire length of Baja Mexico exploring both the Pacific Coast and the East side of the Sea of Cortez to the South and East of Cabo San Lucas by Van. We also flew to the Yucatan Peninsula to visit Tulum and the far southeast of mainland Mexico to explore Oaxaca. That’s almost 3500 miles. Every mile has been worth it. The culture, the people, the sights, sounds, art, architecture, history and food, all have played an integral part in the experience. A lifetime of memories packed into a measured amount of time. Amazing comes to mind.

We have tasted new flavors, textures and savored the aroma of the local foods. Fresh, full of flavors I don’t think I’ve ever tasted before. A cacophony of zings and sweetness, fiery hot and creamy smooth, crunchy, chewy, stringy and saucy. I’ve tried things I couldn’t quite identify and the translation from the menu, just made you laugh. We’ve aimed our phones at so many menus, attempting to decipher the dishes. Often times the pictures spoke volumes, although the color has often times faded from the strong Mexican sun. Just sit back…giggle and breathe…it’s all part of the adventure.

Walking around as much as we do in these cities, is also an experience. First rule, never step on a manhole cover or other covers in the sidewalk or the telephone and fiber cable boxes, water meter boxes and water tank fill boxes. Often these boxes no longer have intact lids, making for some perilous walking. Why should the sidewalks be any different than the roads? Crosswalks…well no, not really, more of a suggestion as are the 4 way stop signs on every block. It’s like a read my mind game. Which drivers are gonna stop and is it safe to cross? It’s kinda a cat and mouse game, no maybe more like chicken. The drivers are usually kind and if not in a hurry, will wave you on or flash the lights. As this happens the entire street full of cars at the intersection, blow off the stop signs and continue in a stream of metal, until…a driver inches his way out enough to stop the flow and take his turn. Impatient horns are a thing here too. Not the lay on the horn of the American culture, there is no road rage, just an impatient honk honk and a friendly acknowledgment from the other driver.

One could liken walking around in these small Mexican towns to Christmas. Behind every wall is a prize. Brightly colored rooms lit in soft lighting, families gathered around tables sharing a meal, artisan shops and galleries all hide behind these walls. Everyone surrounds their homes with tall walls, often imbedded broken glass or spikes line the tops, warding off any intruders. There are often elaborate gates and a gang of rescued street dogs warning you to not enter. The walls, as in Loreto and Oaxaca, are often embellished with creative designs, incredible artisan images of life, history, nature or cultural themes fill entire sides of buildings. Some tell stories of the hardships of life in Mexico, the kindness of the people, the industriousness of Mexico. Others are underwater worlds depicted in large murals.

To be able to experience this and so much more requires us to slow down. To really take a look around. To watch our step and smell the air for what is on the menu. To really stop and admire the painting, carving, saying, design, posters and even the graffiti. There is no hurry, life is too short to not live it fully, here and now. We’re so lucky to have the leisure time we do and the means to travel…and the guts to step outside our comfort zone to try something new.

The Art of Wave Watching and Sky Meditation

The immense energy builds
The water retreats from the beach leaving a shimmering ripple on the sand
The wave pulls up
Up and up building up a frothy top
Gravity takes control and the wave crashes
A thunderous clap as the top of the immense wave hits the calm water below
It rolls slowly to the shore loosing its energy as it passes over the sand
The calm and stillness take over
A lone surfer paddles out and meets this energy
Riding its strength and power

The sky beyond the waves is vast and encompassing
I stare into it with a deep inhalation
As I release I am pulled into the vastness of the deep blue
I enter the energy and light
As finite as the line between sea and sky is
I transcend into the oneness of it all
The breeze blows across my skin…hot with sun
My toes bury deep in the sand
I am connected earth, sky and water
I am the link between them all
I breathe again and slowly pull my conscious back to this moment
I can feel the interconnectedness of it all and I am one with it all and at peace
Johnna

Seize Life

Today and yesterday were memorial days for Chris and I. Loosing two family members a day apart is tough. That was only 3 years ago. Life is too short and too unpredictable to let one moment pass by without taking every advantage it may hold…a lesson, a creative thought, a feeling, a beginning or an end.

The older we get, the more we run away from the inevitable end coming at us like a freight train in a long tunnel. What is important today may not be tomorrow. It is so hard to really think about death, when we are living so hard but each step we take now, will have a ripple effect throughout our lives.

Letting go of all our possessions 5 years ago was a release I really can’t put to words. It is so freeing. There is a struggle with “things”, and it is those things that will kill us or cause suffering we can’t understand, nor are willing to realize. That shiny apple will eventually shrivel and die and our suffering increases ten fold.

What brings me pleasure is the simple things that can’t be owned or put into a box. The sunrise and sunset, warm breezes on a cold day, sand between my toes, the sound of birds, the wind, the waves, the warmth of the sun, music, good food, good friends, petting an animal, trees, grass and the desert. All these things are different each time encountered because of change/impermanence, but I still feel that familiar comfort and ease at each chance encounter. We’ve learned to relish every moment, good or bad, knowing that if something is off, there will always be a change, be it in a moment, a day or a week, and the good is for that moment only and to be cherished. I’m rambling.

Bottom line…life is too short to sweat the small or big stuff. Life can be less about suffering and more about the joy of letting go and letting be. Get out and smell the air, feel the sun, listen to nature and LIVE!

The Roads of Baja

There is a strong draw, felt by a number of nomads, to explore the wild spaces rarely visited by “tourists”. One reason is the lack of transportation capable of handling the washed out, wash board dirt roads found in these areas. Another, the urge to stay in the familiar, attached to cell phones, TV and the comforts of the brick and mortar of a home. When we tell some of our journeys, they all gasp and wonder where we ever got the need to wander.

There is a pull to the desert that has enveloped Chris and I. A need for open spaces, a dry climate and room to roam freely, sometimes without seeing another soul for days. The chance meetings often turn into deep conversations and a fire side chat recounting trials and tribulations of life on the road. We share our stories, sometimes harrowing and unbelievable. Perhaps it’s a draw to face death at every turn, or perhaps the thrill of adventure and to push the envelope beyond the comfort level of the normal human. This takes us to today, four and a half years of being free and able to travel at will, one with our surroundings.

In February of 2021, we hooked up with a caravan of three, Chris and I and two other gals, and crossed the border into Baja Mexico, for the first time. There’s a call we lean towards and freely give into, that paves the way for our wander lust. Baja seemed like the great western frontier that we needed to explore and conquer. Armed with only our cell phones and a good translation app, Garmin GPS, and a competent van, we set out to explore a country unknown to us; a 1,000 mile journey full of new flora and fauna, animals and sea life. I found it so inspiring that I wrote a book while traveling through Baja for 3 months. Fast forward to January 2025 and here we are again.

https://www.amazon.com/Childs-Story-Answers-Why/dp/B09PHHCGWX?dplnkId=38cdaa69-0263-42c6-afe6-a62c7c7e4057&nodl=1

It’s been a tough 2 years emotionally. After loosing our corgi Gandaulf, we sold our first van and all the toys we had accumulated during our travels and set out to travel around the world. Seven months traveling around Europe and another four months in SE Asia, Indonesia, and Malaysia, then back to the States where we purchased another van to complete the Canada/Alaska trip we missed out on during our two and a half years living on the road.

Alaska and western Canada is another frontier of sorts. Not like the desert but just as grand and open. The roads in each very similar; pot holed and delaminated. The punishing washboard roads in dire need of repair, are enough to put any van build or truck to the test. there would be whole days of traveling 3-400 miles and never cross another vehicle. We were never sure if the paved sections of the roads were better than the dirt roads, both held their own dangers. The grandeur of the Alaskan and Yukon outbacks are hard to match, even in the deserts of the south western USA. Still, the desire to revisit Baja California, Mexico and the desert was strong.

Today, January 6, 2025, I’m writing you while enjoying coffee and the warm sun of La Paz, Baja California Sur, surrounded by fellow travelers. We’ve traveled 1350km so far, with another 300km to go. The roads to this point have been narrow two lane highways, with little to no safety lane and often no shoulders. There are times when we must come to a complete stop to walk the van through deep potholes and slow to a crawl when passing trucks come barreling around blind corners. There are constant signs of accidents, both with roadside crosses and mangled guardrails, straightened out or completely ripped from the supports and trailing off into deep ravens as if pointing to the site of a wayward vehicle leaving the road and plummeting to its end. Often times, there will be stretches of road that have carcasses of dead cows, horses or the unidentifiable remains of some unfortunate animal, usually struck at night by a speedy semi, as they come to the flat roads to sleep. It’s a constant reminder that it only takes a second of misfortune to end a life.

So our nomadic wandering continues with so much more to see and experience. We may be absent but we are always present where ever we find ourselves. Living in the moment, sometimes with no set direction but forward. Always savoring the newness of each destination and rolling with whatever may come our way.

some fun travel photos

A Good Match Photo Challenge

Today I walk alone

I hear you rustling under the covers and I turn to feel your wet nose tap my warm nose, time to get up. You wiggle with glee when I sit up, almost unable to contain your joy. As if to say, yea my humans are up! I wipe the tiredness from my eyes and stretch to greet the day. It’s only 7:20 and already you want to play but more pressing, only after you eat. You pick up your plastic bowl, full of teeth marks from other reminders and demands of feeding. I smile as you stare deeply into my eyes, head turning from side to side, as if you are trying to pick my good side. I laugh again, and pull out your bag of kibble and you begin to twirl like a dervish, only you are fixated on the food filling your bowl. As I pick up the bowl, you whirl and twirl and roll over. Tiny taps fill the room as your claws struggle for a purchase on the slick hard wood. I set the bowl down, and like a ravenous beast you gobble down every kibble, inhaled as if it were your last meal. I go about making myself some hot coffee then settle back into my overstuffed armchair. The sun has begun to shine through the stained glass window, as it does every morning, casting a showy barrage of colors throughout the room. It’s my favorite time of day.

Not long after I’m done my coffee, I look around to find you again, curled up on your small bed, satiated from your morning meal. As soon as I stand, you’re at my feet again, signaling with your head that it’s time for your walk. I glance out the window at the day unfolding, decide on my favorite faded jeans, my raggedy old sweatshirt and my favorite hightop converse. This should do for the chill of the early fall morning, I think to myself. I dress myself and slide over to the door where you are patiently waiting, leash in tow, your entire backend wagging from side to side. Again, the tiny taps of your claws on the hardwood, but this time the metallic clink of your tags fills my ears. I feel a lump begin to form in my throat. I reach down and hear the click as I fasten the leash to your collar. I fight back a tear as I open the door, blinded by the low angle of the morning sun. The cool crisp air greets me and snaps me from my vision. I look down at my hands, holding an empty leash. I spin around and look at the full bowl of kibble sitting on the floor. I stand in the doorway, the room is silent, awash with colors, but silent and empty.

It’s been over a year since you’ve been gone. I still live some days this way. The routine we had for over 13 years. I still hear the sounds I will always associate with you. I am still haunted by your smell, your wet nose on mine. It’s like I’ve been frozen in time, a loop I’m unable to exit from. I wipe back the tears that have now filled my eyes, blurring the room into a kaleidoscope of undefined colors. My heart beats slow and my breath measured. I place the leash back on its hook and close the door. Today I walk alone.

Universal Being

As we drive down the long,

lonely, thin road…

My gaze transfixed on the horizon.

Eyes gazing at all before me

The golds of the aspen

The blood orange of alder

The reds of the fireweed

Accented against the tall green conifers

Making a patchwork quilt of the mountain sides.

The beauty is palpable

My heart leaps with joy

My mind solidly fixed in the emptiness of this vast land

The turquoise and aqua green braids of water

Glacier milk

Green rivers

Cool clear streams

Shimmering lakes

The pulsing life blood…water.

The glaciers hold still and fast to the craggy folds

Slowly receding back into the hollow canyons.

The icy blue fingers relenquishing their grip.

Water cascading down

Wisps of white showers

Pooling and spilling over the deep crevasses cut into solid stone.

The roar deafening.

A cahcaufony of sounds

The shrill chatters of the squirrel

Titter of the titmouse

Squawk of grey jays

Call of the raven

Piercing cry of the eagle

Whisper of the wind

Rush of the stream.

The sun…

streaming down from the most stunning blue sky.

Warming

Inviting

Soothing

Clouds hanging free

Heavy black

Wispy white

Outlined in gold and chartreuse as the sun exits and night slips in behind.

Hews of purple

blue and green

paint the sky

A vast inky black sky

awash with stars

Galaxies

Nebulas

Planets

Endlessness.

I drift off to sleep

Part of this natural world

Part of the intricacy of life

Rapid Changes

Today I woke up to 41 degrees in the van…who knows what it is outside. With everything we need in our little capsule of steel and rubber, there’s no big rush to go outside and find out.

The sun is making its way into the sky, creeping slowly from behind the snow capped peeks, but has yet to shine on the opposing peeks across the river valley.

Our camp last night was right beside the Matanuska River, surrounded by Alders, sporting their new yellow fall colors, Drayas, also in showy white tops, and Fireweed that has lost its towers of red flowers and turned to tangled white silky seedpods. The mountains surrounding this valley are topped with snow from the thunder storms 2 nights ago, accenting the harsh, craggy peeks.

Yesterday, we drove up from Ninilchik to the Russian River Ferry crossing and joined the throngs of fisher people hoping to catch a nice coho salmon, or at least hook into one of the giant red sockeye on the Kenai River. These fish are huge! As your standing in the water, these fish are lined up, heading upstream. Every now and then, one will breech the surface slowly or jump out of the river all together. With your concentration on your line and indicator, this is quite alarming at first, but soon becomes the norm and you settle in to the rhythm of casting.

It’s time to begin our month long procession east then south, out of Alaska, into Canada, and finally, the lower 48. Time to say good-bye to the wildness of this beautiful land, where it is easy to forget your worries, clear your mind, and refresh your inner most being. To the fresh, crisp, cool air, the bears, moose, squirrels, seagulls ravens and bald eagles, all etched firmly into my mind, a sorrowful good-bye. A fond farewell to the mountains and glaciers, turquoise rivers and milky white glacial streams and waterfalls, thousands of lakes and fiords. To leave behind the thousands of miles of pot-holed, wavy, and frost heaved roads of dirt and tar.

Although the journey has not ended just yet…we’ve traveled almost 6,000 miles since Salt Lake City. We’ve driven on almost every road in Alaska, been from the Continental divide (Antigun Pass) to Lands End (Homer). We’ve traveled by ferry along the Inside Passage between Juneau, Skagway and Haines. Took a wild ride down the Tatshinini and Alsek Rivers, played with icebergs and bergy-bits. We’ve had our share of bear encounters, some too close for comfort. I’d say it’s been a wild and encompassing ride for sure with still more to come.

A Tragedy

We are flying at 12000’ above the ice choked mountain tops of Glacier Bay, Alaska. Whenever the clouds part, we all crane our necks looking for a small airplane. The search continues today for the missing pilot and we have become part of the search, as anyone flying today.

We found out the rest of the story today from our taxi driver, Jax. She explained how loved and revered these 3 people were, an integral part of the community here in SE Alaska. Samuel, or Sam, was a seasoned pilot that loved the community and flying. Tanya and Hans, also in the missing plane, were also stand up members of the community. Hans provided air transportation to rafting companies, anglers, hunters and commuting people to other bigger cities around SE Alaska.

According to our taxi driver, the three had just attended a wedding in Haines and were on their way back to Yukatat when the plane went missing off radar around the Fairweather Range, a location of vast mountains and glaciers, rugged and beautiful.

Sam used to play Uncle Sam in Haines’ 4th of July parade. Hans and Tanya had been together forever and were integral members of this small tight knit community. The admiration and sadness, coming through Jax’s voice as she recanted memories. The entire atmosphere of Juneau, Haines, Yukatat and Dry Bay, has grown solemn as the search was called off due to bad weather. Planes have been grounded as a fog and rain blanket the coastal area again.

This weekend is the county fair in Haines. I’m sure that the revelry will be quelled by the loss of these three.