Beach Bums – Page 2 – Two Travelin' Chicas…

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.

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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.

Baja Holiday

I’ve been sitting on this lovely mesquite wood since I pulled in a day before Chris could join me. I caught an awful cold which continued to infect my lungs and finally today, I feel human again. It’s been a long month. I brought out my axe and picked the wood I thought I could split and had at it. I managed to take 7 of the 10 pieces of gnarled mesquite wood and cut it down for smaller wood and kindling. Invited new friends, and had a night of hearing the new version of campfire stories.

We all are from different places and times, some old some a little younger. Some have physical property, land with or without a dwelling, and some have what we’ve arrived at this beach in. No matter, we are all a family unlike that you find. A community of like minded individuals, that, for whatever reason, have the need to wander.

For some it’s a place that is not too pleasant in winter months, some who drive south into Baja as an escape from the gloom and cold winters. For Others, just an escape from some demons chasing them, known or not. For us it’s a chance to take a camping vacation on the beach, where we can stop and unload and finally sit still for more than a day.

Baja Sur is like the old western movies you see. Gauchos riding amongst the cactus and mesquite, Palo Verde and Palo Blanco trees dotting gnarled rocky desert landscape. Tall pilars of crumbling hills and buttes stacked on the ground like the fins in a dragons back. Hot arid air burns the skin and in the city is often full of Mexican polkas and meriotche.

We’ve moved to Loreto, about 2 hours further down the coast, to visit our long time friends who live here now. They live in the Historic Centro of Loreto, a maze of streets that eventually lead to the main Malecon. Bahia Loreto fronts the Malecon and is often a churning white capped sea. There are many gringos mingled with the local Mexicans living in the historic district. Loreto is more like an oasis than the desert. The Centro is centered around one of the 3 missions in this area. A mix of shops and cafes line the Centro. Coffee shops and artists round out the collection. Arched trees provide shade and beauty.

Time to stop and live outside the van for a week or so.

Sun Glitter…a day at the beach

Well, we’ve made it down into Baja California Sur, Mexico. The journey down took the best part of a week. There are numerous military check points along the way, mostly just curious federales except coming into San Ignacio, those guys are jerks.

The driving was a bit hairy after we connected with the main highway Route 1. The road is plenty wide enough for our van and a semi…as long as everyone stays in their own lanes. The last trip up and over the mountains and into Santa Rosalía was the last of the dangerous stretches of windy mountain passes for a while. We were told there’s an accident almost everyday.

Our push to get to Mulege and Bahia Concepcion paid off in spades until Chris came down with the same cold I was battling and we opted to get a hotel room in Posada Concepcion to get some rest and take some long hot showers to try and get on top of our sickness. After a day I pushed on to the beach to set up camp, Chris stayed behind for one more day.

A nice camp spot was saved for me by Frank and Linda, right on the beach only 20’ from the high tide line. The beach is made up of broken shells that have been pulverized into course sand. There are starfish, pelicans, seagulls and turns, dolphins playing in the bay and dozens of paddle boards and kayaks skimming the water as far as one can see. The gentle lapping of the water along the beach lulls me into a trancelike state until the seagulls cry snaps me back.

Every morning, several beach dwellers take out kayaks and fish. Upon returning, they clean and fillet the fish they caught. This daily ritual has attracted 5 large brown pelicans and 2 seagulls. The fisherman feeds the pelicans and the seagulls scream at them, sometimes pestering them enough they get a small morsel. Lazy birds.

Everyday a gentle breeze picks up in the early afternoon, turning the glassy waters of the bay, into small wave trains that lap at the shore and make for some fun paddle boarding. There’s little trails leading up into the hills that surround the beach, a larger area with a dozen or more palapas, outhouses with smelly pit toilets, we use our own and take the cassette once every 3 days and dump it in one.

On any sunny day, the bay turns aqua green with deep blues and turquoise. Dancing in the water are sun sparkles, glitter from the sun. If you squint your eyes those sparkles become sun drops splashing into the bay. I squint and watch these little jewels of light as they dance on the top of the water. Another day another sand dollar.

Down a Winding Desert Road

To say our lives are boring, would be the biggest lie anyone ever told. Today we find ourselves on a pilgrimage down to Baja California. Driving through the barron desert of California’s Mohave. The vast emptiness is overwhelming and all encompassing. Creosote, desert rose, sage, Joshua trees, and various other spiny shrubs, dot the desert floor. Whips of dust circle and rise into the sky in thin tornadic spouts. The desert has a beauty all its own.

As we make our way, small desert communities spring up in the middle of nowhere. Towns like Needles, Searchlight, and Topok breakup the monotony of flatness. We wonder what the inhabitants do for fun? Chase jackrabbits…wander around in altered states of mind. Sit on porches rocking in old wooden rocking chairs. Commune with the vast sky? There’s a certain peace found here in the desert emptiness, vastness that is beyond measure. A kinship with Mother Earth, a pleading of the poor souls living among her scorched soil and dwarfed trees and plants.

For the next few months we will enter this environment willingly, searching…searching for that kinship, immersed in the life of leisure. Healed by the salt air. Lost in days unknown, time lost, only day and night. Wander around with like souls just living life on the peninsula’s terms. It’s time to disassociate from the tension and unknowns of life in the US.

We are looking for somewhere to call home base. Someplace we can travel out from or just hunker down and become part of a community. Who really knows. What I do know is, we have wandering spirits that are hard to quench, hard to convince to stay in one place…wanderlust.

And…that’s a wrap. SE Asia

There’s so much running around in my brain. First, I’d like to say that 4 months in SE Asia has been a good amount of time. Countries visited include, Cambodia, Laos, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand and Vietnam. There are so many more countries and places to explore, but as with Europe, it will have to wait.

Each country has had its charm, sorted history, beauty, beaches, lakes, and natural formations such as the Karsk Mountains. We’ve visited memorials depicting the horrors of wars, incredible temples and places of deep cultural significance, bumpy roads, tiny streets, crazy traffic, billions of motorbikes, stairs and stairs, and more stairs. The one thing that reigns true in every country, be it a wide open space country, huge city with skyscrapers, or farmlands, are the kindness of the people. I know this has been said over and over again, but believe me, it cannot be said enough. In all of our years of traveling and doing humanitarian work, it is the people with the least, that are willing to give the most.

I can honestly say that Chris and I try our best to be informed about the culture and beliefs of the people in whatever country we visit. It goes a long way believe me. Whether it be a few phrases in the local language, a simple bow, a conversation about the religion or mythology of the people, you can see their eyes brighten and a smile comes across their face that says more than words could ever convey. To be courteous and ask permission to take a photo shows a great deal of respect at times.

One thing we struggle a bit with is tipping. On our tours with GAdventures, we learned how tipping can be a good and bad thing. Being “westerners”, privileged as some would call us, it is important to understand the concept of tipping. For example, in Cambodia and Vietnam, the average monthly salary is equal to about $400 USD. The people live comfortably and are happy. Introduce tourism; they may be employed at a hotel, restaurant or attraction catering to tourists from all over the world. IF these tourists tip, which is about 30% do vs 70% that don’t, the appropriate tip may seem ridiculously small to us, but to them, it could mean more than we can imagine. Sometimes it amounts to nothing but the fact that you have recognized them and appreciate their service. That you see them! The point being, tip appropriately…not like you would at home. It can disrupt their lives in ways we can’t understand.

Next thing we make a point to do is ask the locals about themselves and their family. We engage with the tour guides, drivers and hotel staff. They aren’t robots, not yet anyway. They live to have the jobs they do. They feel very lucky to have them and will always serve you with that genuine smile I am always talking about. Even when you can see them visibly melting in the heat and humidity, just as you are, they persevere, continuing to do the best they can to serve you. For example; we watched a woman in Thailand that was probably 7-8 months pregnant. She was there for lunch at 11am and was still there when we went back for dinner at 8pm and was still there when we left at 9:30. The restaurant was still open for another 1.5 hours. She was seating customers and clearing tables. She never stopped. There was no AC, just an open air restaurant. Another woman, a bit overweight by Thai standards, was also there that same time. It was an exceptionally hot day and the night was stifling with not a hint of breeze. She stood at her station with sweat running down her face, using a menu to cool herself. She greeted us with a smile and welcomed us back by name. It’s often hard to put aside the privileged part of us that can’t believe the working conditions.

All this writing made me hot, so I just used my pool. Now the pool attendant is helping us to get more shade on our cushy sun bed. 🥵🤣 Like i was saying…

We are currently in Uluwatu, Bali, our last stop in Bali. It’s 84 degrees or 31 celsius and 80% humidity. I’m watching 4 guys on a glass roof over the eating area at the restaurant, removing what amounts to a completely shattered piece of 3/4” tempered glass…with no gloves! No safety gear, just grit and perseverance. Wow! 🥵😳 I need to go use the pool again just from watching them…

We hope that you’ve enjoyed our journey. Feel free to reach out to us for recommendations or with any questions about where we’ve been. Thanks for following our travels! The Girls

2023 Travel Year in Review

Our 2023 Tally of Planes Trains and Stays
Where we slept on 2023

116 nights Apartments or B&Bs
89 nights Hotels
46 nights House Sits
36 nights Pet Sits
32 nights Camping in Vans US, Europe
12 nights Cabins or Lodge
8 nights Friends or Family
8 nights Boats
2 nights Planes
2 nights Trains
1 night Hostel
1 night Home Stay in Cambodia

Other Stats

27 Individual flights taken

11 Long Distance Train Travel Days

19 Long Distance Bus Rides

11 Days traveling by Boat

16 Countries Visited in Order
3 Islands

United States
Bahamas
Ireland
Scotland
Portugal
Maderia (Island)
Azores (Island)
Germany
Austria
Spain
Croatia
Montenegro
Bosnia & Herzegovina
Cyprus
Vietnam
Con Dao Islands
Cambodia
Thailand
Koh Ngai (Island)
Koh Lanta (Island)
Laos

Black Sand Beaches and Reality: North Cyprus

Here I am again, sitting here turning my wildest dreams into a reality on a black sand beach on the Mediterranean Sea. The warm waters and calm surf are perfect for bobbing and swimming. This island is so MUCH better than anyplace we’ve been so far this year.

The people are genuinely friendly. English is commonly spoken as well as Turkish and Greek. Americans are few and far between maybe because so many of us live in the bubble of propaganda and have never taken a chance to travel. Like really travel. We were afraid too.

Up until a month ago, while visiting Montenegro, I had never considered Cyprus, but more proper, The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus or TRNC. Now we’ve bought a garden apartment with a walk-out pool in a complex that will terrace its way up the hill in typical domino stacks of bright white buildings spilling into the sea.

It’s somewhat like Portugal’s Algarve coast, Croatia or Montenegro’s coastline but without the crowds. It’s a beautiful vista backset against the verdant green slopes of the mountains rising up from the sea. Albeit with much less of a dramatic gain in heights and angle.

This is a burgeoning area bringing itself and its people together to make a future. It’s easy going and pretty laid back. Food is incredible, even though french fries is a food group here. There is a good solid infrastructure and new hospitals. There’s an International University here, at least one I know of. We have actually used the medical system here twice this month.

Gas, food and lodging are pretty low priced and of excellent quality. Wine and beer are cheaper than a bottle of water here. Even the WiFi is incredibly fast. Cost of living is cheap and the Island checks off most of our boxes for a possible home base or investment for the future. One other plus, compared to the EU, people here tend to smoke less.

So back to the beach…the one thing the US has on every beach in the world we’ve been to is the desire to keep the country clean. Beaches, parking lots, natural environments. I love to look for beach glass, stones and trinkets. Seems no matter where I go I can pick up a half melted price of hard plastic waste that looks like a stone. There’s bits and pieces of various plastics and cans and a mountain of cigarette butts. And still, it’s too bad that this is “not too bad.”

The sun is warm today, we’ve had two days of rain, wind and heavy surf and the sea is calm and inviting. The warm water surrounds you in a warm watery blanket. Bobbing up and down like a bottle on the sea with a secret letter inside. Cares just drift away as the rhythm of the waves take over all sound. You melt into the calm.

The definitive line between horizon and sky is more like the edge of a mirror, reflecting sea onto sky. A few ghostly clouds from the storms, hang far-off on the horizon. The sea claps again breaking my stare.

Impressions of Montenegro

I am sitting on Red Beach as I have been doing everyday for this last week. Some days the sea laps calmly at the pebble beach, other days it has full on breakers causing the rocky beach to tumble into the sea as the wave recedes. The rolling sound of rocks in water has been a favorite of mine since moving to Utah 30+ years ago although rolling rocks in water are from rivers in Utah.

I look out over the expanse of calm blue water, shimmering in the sun like diamonds in a jewelers light. Heads bob up and down with a few diehard swimmers covering the shoreline as far as you can see. There’s no sand castles to be built on this beach, better for piling rock cairns or separating the colors for more artistic endeavors. Daredevils climb the limestone rocks several meters from shore and do cannon balls to the delight of their friends. Sunbathers lie half naked on the pebbles or spend a few euros for a sun bed and are waited on by the cute bar tender, John, who slinks across rocky surface like a sure footed lizard, balancing his tray full of drinks. The air is thick with the smell of the salty, ion filled breezes, wafting off the sea. For today, this is my home.

We have spent the last 2 1/2 weeks on the shore. Each town has its colored pebble beaches, a few sandier beaches spread around, but more the exception than the rule. The water is warm and refreshing and clear as glass. Small colored fish swim in the depths and appear to be only a few inches from the surface, but in fact, are 3-4 meters down. The water itself is incredible salty, allowing you to literally sit in the water, head above and hands and feet quietly floating. I’ve been told by locals that this sea has healing minerals and some declare they are now cured of their aches and pains just from swimming. All I know is it has been good for relaxation, afternoon naps and loosening up achy backs from sleeping on poor mattresses. There’s a lulling found in the gentle lapping sound of the waves.

Seashore towns are perched on the rocky shorelines like a perfect game of dominos, each with its share of hundreds of ancient stone stairways going straight up from the nearest switchback cut out for streets.

Tomorrow we pack up our stuff once more to migrate deeper into Montenegro and the “black mountains” as its name translates. There are a total of 5 National Parks in Montenegro and we will hit at least 3 while we are here. The mountains are 1500-2000 meters high and rise abruptly from the seashores. Montenegro is not devoid of seasons. The leaves are beginning to show colors of red, gold and yellow. The mountains are not exempt from a good snow fall come late fall and winter. There are ski resorts and outside activities such as hunting, fishing, and tons of snow sports. The towns fall into a sort of slumber after being drunk with tourists all summer. The sun hangs low in the sky, the pace slows, the heat dissipates, the sea grows cold, and the nights grow long. Wood is collected to heat the homes in the mountains and the sea-shore dwellers, make necessary repairs and ready their homes for the next surge of visitors come Spring.

Madeira to São Miguel

Madeira Island is a lovely, lush green island that sits about 500 miles east of Portugal mainland. Volcanic in it’s development, the island has rich soil for growing. It is also mountainous and rich with thermally heated ocean pools on the coast, mostly concentrated in Porto Moniz and Seixal. Don’t be fooled by the “thermally heated” part, these pools are actually cool at 20-22 degrees Celsius (68-70 Fahrenheit) and quite refreshing on a hot day. Porto Moniz is definitely geared around tourism, the shops and restaurants close early as the tour buses leave and the place becomes a ghost town.

We stayed in a lovely, modern guesthouse in between the commercially run “swimming pools” and the natural “free” pools. We were within walking distance of many restaurants, most serving ice cream, pizza, and the local fare.

The last night we found a “local” restaurant serving meat on a skewer, or shish-cá-bobs at home, using Rodízio Grill style long metal spits grilled over an open flame served hanging from a stand for us to pull off as we wished. They also served the “catch of the day”, local breads and octopus based foods, including an octopus sandwich.

One thing we became well aware of while in Porto Moniz and then other eating establishments, sadly there is a locals price and a tourist price and the song and dance the waiters give for why your meal is more than the price in the menu is quite elaborate, ranging from VAT taxes to oh I made a mistake. They often will send out a coligue to accept your payment hoping you don’t notice. Our largest error was around $15 off at a restaurant we found a bit out of the city square. We haggled and still ended up $10 too high. Café Atlântico was the name of this restaurant. Also be aware that they will put bread and some sort of a sauce or perhaps just garlic bread with cheese on your table, much like chips-n-salsa at a Mexican restaurant, but then will charge you if you eat it.

This is one of over 150 tunnels on the island that connects the north, south and west part of Madeira…an engineering feat in and of itself. It used to take over 7 hours to go from Funchal to Punto Moniz, most volcanic islands make you drive up and over then down the other side, now it takes under an hour. Being prone to landslides, this was a viable option and made it easy to travel to all of the island.

This was the alley/walkway into Câmara do Lobos from our hotel.

After several days in Porto Moniz, and driving around to the small villages above the sea cliffs, we drove back through the tunnels to Câmara de Lobos, a sleepy fishing town where everything is also straight up from the sea port. There is a system of steep stairs and “alleyways” to ascend and descend. This town is hundreds of years old and not built for automobile travel. They are making changes and building infrastructure to accommodate busses and trucks, but if you choose to rent a car…make it a really really small one. If you stay up on the hill, chances are you will encounter a small “street” which has two way traffic and is barely big enough for one often with the mirrors having to be folded in.

In town it was fun to see how the sea side villagers are taking plastic, tin and aluminum “trash”, and turning it onto colorful and imaginative artwork. Between the artwork and lights strung high above the streets, the atmosphere is quite festive. Stop in for a sample of a local drink called Poncha. It is said to be the drink of the fishermen, or their medicine. It is a combination of honey, muddled lemon and orange with some peel, sugar and aguardente de cana (rum). It is a traditional drink developed on Madeira and said to be drank before going out at night to catch the Scabbard fish, a long black snake-like fish with huge eyes and a mouth full of fangs. They come up at night to feed and the fishermen are waiting. The meat from these fish is not very oily so it doesn’t taste very fishy but has a mild flavor and firm texture. They are considered a delicacy.

After a week in Madeira, we hopped on an early flight to São Miguel, the biggest island in the Açores. We in arrived Punta Delgada before 7am…earlier than the shops open, with the exception of the coffee shops, so we wondered around the cobbled stone streets and sidewalks. The streets and squares were black and white cobbled stones in flowing swirls with intricate patterns. The store fronts followed the weaving streets, painted in pastel colors with rot iron accents on windows and narrow decks of volcanic stone. Some buildings dating back into the early seventeenth century. Churches and government buildings dotted the corners of the open city squares. Statues to the Archangel Micheal adorned buildings and reflecting pools in the squares. One journey ended and a whole new one was about to begin.

My new book

I believe that we were born free spirits, destined to meet each other from birth. We met in our late twenties in Salt Lake City Utah in 1991, after I had moved from Connecticut, 2,300 miles. One of the first things Chris asked me was…”would you be willing to sell everything you own and travel with me?” My answer didn’t take a second thought…”Of course” and the world opened up to us. We hit the road in 1993 and haven’t looked back since. Our need for travel and discovering new cultures, took us all over the world.

We traveled long before. Cell phones, GPS and computers. We had to get maps from AAA, travel books and a big paper map for each state and country we planned to see. When the cell phone and GPS came out, the world became so small and our lust for travel and increased our thirst for overseas travel.

Fast forward 32 years… we set ourselves up so we could retire early. We started planning a life overseas. My dream of being a writer, photographer and artist finally came to fruition.

This book is a collection of travel memoirs taking you, the reader, along with us on our travels. Submerse yourself in the descriptive words and stories. Laugh and cry with us. Feel our fear and our joy, but most of all, enjoy.

Here’s the link to the Amazon book

https://a.co/d/dxpbRIF