When one transitions from van life back to living behind the four walls of a house, believe it or not, it takes quite a bit of adjusting. One might say there’s a bit of separation anxiety or grief. Why do I say that? Perhaps it’s something that can only be understood by someone who has experienced living for more than a month in a custom van. Allow me to explain.
We first moved into “SleepyTurtle”, our self-built Ford Transit, in June of 2020. We transitioned from aprox. 6,000 sq ft to about 40. Now that in itself was actually easier than you’d think. See, living in a van opens up your “home” to all the outdoors. Don’t like the scenery…move. Don’t like the weather… drive to a new location. Your overhead boils down to fuel, both propane and petrol, camp spots, water (in some countries), food, insurance (health/car and travel), repairs and maintenance of your rig and of course connectivity, be it cellphone, internet/WiFi, or satellite radio. Simple.
Living in a van allows you freedom.
Living in a van allows you solitude.
Living in a van allows you to connect with nature and like-minded people. Simple people.
Living in a van there’s no agenda aside from what direction you’ll head, where will you spend Winter this year, Summer?
Living in a van makes you conscientious of trash production, water and power usage.
Nature becomes your front and back yards. Wether beach, mountain, lake or desert, it can all be yours for as long as you choose. Fancy another country for a few months, years? Go for it! You’re mobile!
In the last five years, we’ve owned and lived in 2 different vans. Each served a purpose geared to the trip ahead. “Willow” was built and enhanced for a trek to the Arctic Circle, Alaska, BC and Alberta Canada and finally South Dakota and all the way to the tip of Baja California Sur, Mexico. Willow performed like a champ and is now retired and will be put up for sale soon. We’ve now moved onto Costa Rica where we are AirBnBing it for the next while.
So, back to transitioning. We now reside back inside. I remember the first night back in a walled building. I lie awake listening to the hum of the electricity, the sound of water and flushing toilets. The hiss of central AC and heating units. I missed the silence.
There are the “comforts of home”, TV, WiFi (no longer isolated to brick and mortar), running water, a big fridge and ice cubes, climate control, clean hot showers, a plug on every wall, and beside every table and chair with an unlimited source of power. The price tag for such niceties is pricey and often requires a job or takes a big chunk out of the monthly budget, and takes a chunk of your freedom away. But every now and then, you feel the need to “nest”, meaning to settle down in one place for an extended period of time, or as Chris puts it, “a place to put your stuff…” of which we have little material things left.
I’m currently sitting in my air conditioned room, looking outside. It looks beautiful but I am in a city. There’s no seeking silence out there only in here, with the hum of the mini-split, running water and TV. The transition is tough. The freedom of the road or a “place to put our stuff” and call home? Not all exploration can be done in a van I guess. A new chapter has begun for the chicas.
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.
The breezes are warm, filled with the smell of warming earth I noticed a small crocus poking its head from its slumber in the earth Soon it’s soft purple face will open to drink in the sun The hard ground softens The days grow longer The grey of winter is being dyed pale green as the trees begin to bud The air fills with the sounds of the small birds that have so much to sing about I lie in the grass Gazing at the endless sky I melt into my gaze And then… Into the very ground that supports me We are ONE I feel the spirit of the mother course through my veins She beats in my heart My breathe becomes the wind itself A sense of being Of existing Of love We are ONE
Our days start at sunrise in Bahia Conception as the morning light shines in on my open back doors. On this cool dewy morning I wake to smell coffee and the wet air then I stretch to greet the new day. I open my eyes and take in the sunrise. An unusual sight greets me this morning. A huge cloud bank, tightly condensed on the water and up against the mountains that outline the bay. A few obscure paddle craft dot the horizon, enveloped in the thick fog bank, as the sun begins its ascent into the morning sky turning all the dew drops into small diamonds.
The day was only just beginning with the unusual fog, calm bay and absolutely still air heavy in dew.
A pod of 50-60 dolphins swim from one side of the bay to the other. The little dolphins enjoy jumping and I hear giggles from the campers gathered on the beach watching the folly. They shout and point out their location to the paddle craft in the water joining their migration across the open bay.
Yesterday was also an unusually calm day with no wind until very late in the afternoon. Again the dolphins passed by but, to our surprise, two small whales appeared. Probably a fin or pilot whale but don’t let that spoil the fun. On a paddle board, they are massive, thrilling, and a bit un-nerving as they swam within 50 feet or so from my paddle board. My little kid screeched with joy and the older me pulled back the enthusiasm to a safe distance.
It’s not only the mornings that bring us joy here at Playa La Escondida. The moon disappears from the sky as it makes its nightly voyage. Once the gang goes to sleep, which is usually by 9pm, the beach is warily quiet and dark. Looking into the water, allowing a minute for the eyes to adjust, it happens. Bioluminescents!! It’s like seeing a million fireflies all up and down the beach at the water’s edge. Green diamonds and a slash of blue and pink as you drag your paddle through the water. In the jet black of night, with a canopy of stars reflecting on the still water, it’s an otherworldly sight. In the blackness comes the “poof” of a whales blowhole as it exhales. All the sudden you realize how small you are in the scene of things and at that exact moment, standing in the vastness of the stars, you feel like you are somehow integrated into it all.
How do we do it? On the road for exactly 4 years and 8 months and 2 days…Life is too short to waste a moment. If you need to ask, well I’m so sorry for you. This last week/month has been a tremendous insight into so many things. Who really needs to discuss the elephant in the room?
With so many friends of ours that have moved from the US to live in other countries, it’s good to hear the insight from “boots on the ground”. Of course we’ve made a list of things we’d like to have, and those that are a must, where ever it is we decide to call home base.
Can anyone ever really live the “perfect life”?
We asked some and they will say that a “community” is important. We agree. We will say that temperature and climate as a whole impacts our decision greatly. Others claim the silence, cost of living, food, water, power…being off grid. Things, it seems we are conditioned to as “privileged” Americans. I think friends, location to things we like to do, access to water sports, and a small carbon footprint if possible, also are high on the list. Clean air and good health care are not something that can be denied.
How do we proceed? Good question. Perhaps the real answer is that we will never be comfortable in any one place for too long. Perhaps a few months here and a few there. No real commitment and there in perhaps lies the real issue. Why commit? After all, we are wanderers, travelers.
There are a few reasons to find a home base…one a place to feel grounded, your own. We have our place in TRNC, ready in Feb of 2027…but until then? Why do we feel a need to find one place? A place we “own”? A need to spend money? Some will say, if you’re comfortable in your own skin, there’s no need to find comfort from outside. Yes and no. It’s not that comfort we are looking for.
The future is so uncertain. We will most likely agree to rent, long term, and leave when the urge comes. We are not getting any younger and eventually will need a “home”. Somewhere they don’t throw away their old people. A place to travel from.
A place that targets health and well-being over treating dis-ease. A kind and stable government.
We are wrapping up a week in Tulum, where we ventured out to see if we could find a place to call home base. Once again, the homes were lovely, one we both were ready to buy. The next day we went out again to look and we stood in the jungle for about half an hour and we both began to feel ill from over heating. We took it as a sign that this is not someplace we could enjoy for long. Oh well…on to Oaxaca for 2 weeks of fun!!
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.
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.
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.
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.
View from the hotel room
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.
Our camp
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.
Colorful Bay of Concepcion Bay of Glassy waterSun sparkles
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.
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.
On March 21, 2023, at 4pm, we lost an integral part of Two Travelin’ Chicas and a Corgi. Gandaulf had been with us since he was a mere 10 weeks old. He was the cutest little corgi muffin we’d ever seen. It had taken me months to talk Chris back into letting me get a puppy again. I was up for the challenge of house breaking, training and cuddling and with Chris traveling so much, I’d now have a companion to keep me company.
We went and got him on February 22, 2010. He was full of energy and very sharp teeth. I spent the first 2 hours and last 2 hours of everyday, training and playing with him so that he would be able to go to work with me everyday. He graduated his puppy class at 5 months old, the youngest they’d ever allowed into the class, and I dare say, the smartest. He never did like car rides much, and being his moms were car dealers, that became a big joke. Maybe it was his tiny legs? Maybe not being able to see? Maybe because everyday we drive a different car, truck or SUV…he never did warm up to rides in the car until we started to travel in the van.
By the time he reached three years old, he had charmed his way into many hearts. He was a great greeter at Salt Lake Imports, our dealership, and an even better sales dog. He loved to play ball so he would distract the customers while they were buying a car. He would do the cute thing and lay his head on their shoes and look up with his big endearing dark brown eyes. It was at 3 he started training to be a service animal.
We started out with walking through malls, airports and riding the light rail. He knew all the commands but when it came to walking through buildings with multicolor floors, he’d lean back on his hind legs and stop abruptly. Everyone around us in the airport, would pile up behind us and laugh as he made quite a scene. Eventually he overcame whatever he saw that scared him and he’d walk, ears back, head held high and little legs scurrying under him to keep up.
It took about 3 months to get him fully trained enough to get his jacket and register him with the US Service Dog Agency. Gandaulf was now a registered service dog and could travel anywhere, go anywhere and knew how to behave. He was one dog out of his jacket, but once we put his jacket on him, he transformed into another. He was always quiet, never begged in a restaurant, and ignored other dogs like he had on blinders. He was just perfect.
Chris and I loved to travel, and now Gandaulf could go just about anywhere with us. His first plane ride was 4.5 hours from Salt Lake City to Virginia Beach. Then he went to Mexico, Costa Rica, he was even an honorary “corn dog” in Nicaragua on Little Corn Island. He has been on sailboats where more pictures were taken of him than the sunset the tour was about. He had become a traveling partner and just loved every adventure. We always joked that he thought we traveled awfully far just to play ball.
He took to swimming, streams, Alpine Lakes and loved body surfing in the Oceans. He would help land any fish we caught on the banks of a river or in our white water raft. He loved to ride on kayaks, paddle boards and even had his own backpack for coming along on bike rides. He owned a climbing harness, life jacket, vibram sole booties and a snow jacket for messy Utah winter days when the snow was deeper than he was tall.
When we decided to retire early, we had to figure in our boy into our plans. We originally wanted to move out of the USA and settle down but with Gandaulf, that wasn’t gonna work out as well. He was a world traveler but the amount of paperwork and rabies vaccinations and other requirements made it difficult to go to more than one country at a time. Vanlife was just becoming a thing so we decided that sounded like fun! On November 11, 2017, we bought a 2015 Ford Transit Cargo Van and begun researching solar, plumbing and how to build out the perfect travel van, and begun building.
After 3 long years of trying to sell our business, Salt Lake Imports, we finally had a buyer and on March 2020, we wrapped up the paperwork on the sale, finalized the sale of our house, and diligently finished work on the van. She was done in June 2020, just in time to escape the madness of COVID-19. We dubbed her SleepyTurtle and had a wrap put on her of a Turtle made of turtles from the Iroquois legend of Turtle Island. We hit the road and spread our new found wings of freedom.
Gandaulf traveled like a king, after all he was a Corgi. We bought a child’s beanbag and stuffed it between our seats, making a cushy seat even in height to ours and he was able to see out the windows and cuddle up to us if he chose to. He had his own vent for AC or heat. If a window rolled down, he was right there to checkout whatever might be thinking of invading his castle. He greeted everyone with a smile and butt wiggles, no tail…
From June 2020 to February 2023, we traveled all around the western US, Canada and Baja Mexico. We laughed every time we saw a “brown forest service sign” and took off on an unknown road. The beauty of this type of traveling. We had built up the van for going off road. She had the largest off-road tires we could put on her, steel skid plates under her belly and protecting the differential. We had custom “rock rail type” nerf bar running boards made and a custom roof rack to hold her solar panel. We could be off grid for up to 10 days or longer when we are by water.
In July 2021, I noticed a small clump of strange tissue inside of Gandaulf’s eye. We immediately called his vet and within a few days, had flown back to Salt Lake for a vet visit. He needed to be seen by an eye specialist, so we flew back to Idaho and drove home to Salt Lake. Gandaulf’s appointment was thorough and the doctor came back with the news. He had developed and interocular tumor, but the pressure in his eye was good so it wasn’t an emergency to have his eye removed so we kept having the pressure checked and took pictures every week and sent it back to the docs.
It was on a hike in July 2022 that we noticed the first big change. We were hiking down to a river to do some fishing, Gandaulf hiking as usual until he started to sneeze backward. We don’t know if he snuffed up a grass seed or just some dirt but the pressure of the inward sneezes, caused the tumor to rupture inside his eye. He was obviously in pain. The next morning, he was in for a complete work up at a new vet in Colorado. Full X-rays, blood work and pressure check. No issues found other than the ruptured tumor. We got some pain meds and eye drops and in a few days he was right back to normal.
Life went on as normal for us…As normal as it was after loosing both Chris’ dad and little sister in January 2022. Gandaulf was approaching 13 years old and we started noticing his mental state was declining. It was harder for him to get in and out of the van. He had become very reactive to being touched, putting on his life jacket or service jacket became dangerous if you touched him wrong. He had become a vicious dog just out of the blue. He had less energy and was definitely showing signs of slowing down. Ball time got shorter and shorter and bu September he was having a hard time seeing in low light. His hearing was going and he was loosing his mind.
October 2022. We came back to Salt Lake to have a ceremony for Chris’ dad out in the west desert as he requested. I had really become worried and was afraid of my dog, I had been bit twice by him during his little temper tantrums and was beginning to see the end coming. We took him to his vet, Dr Kara, and he didn’t recognize her. She sat on the floor and cried, while explaining that he had dementia and appeared to be in a great deal of pain. She prepared us for maybe needing to help him out of his pain and confusion. We gave him 4 days to respond favorably to a new medication regime, and as usual, Gandaulf responded well and we learned how to live with his dementia and crazy moments of rage.
We were off again on the road, heading for Oregon for a stint of house sits through January. We explored Bend, Maupin and finally Portland in all it’s rainy glory. Gandaulf was sleeping a lot and needing more help to get up and down stairs and in and out of bed. He still loved to go on hikes with us and ball chasing still was his favorite past time.
January 2023 found us planning our winter trip to Baja. We planned on heading down the Oregon and California coast, stopping along the way to visit old friends. The rain was relentless, with atmospheric rivers hitting the coast causing devastating floods and mudslides. By the time we reached Palm Springs, we were able to dry out and stop while awaiting our new tags for the van so we could cross into Baja and start our winter adventure. Three days from us planning to cross the border, the guys that bought the dealership called and told us they weren’t going to be paying rent and we’re vacating the property. Our plans had been dashed once again. We needed to pack up and drive back to a wintery Salt Lake City, frozen by a very snowy, very long cold spell, needless to say we weren’t happy.
We lucked out and found an AIRBNB in a friends basement that served our needs while we sorted out the empty building, repairs and release or sale. Gandaulf slept a lot and was patient while we made repairs, painted and shuttled back and forth from home to the shop for the next 6 weeks, 6 weeks we could’ve been in Baja, toes dug into the sand, playing ball and hiking around. Six weeks that should’ve been all about our last hurrah with Gandaulf.
On the morning of March 20, 2023, Gandaulf woke up as he always did, lying on the bed waiting for his moms to help him down and give him his morning meal, scratches and walk. When I got up to help him down, I noticed his eye was weeping and he seemed to be reacting to bright light. The tumor in his eye looked normal so I didn’t give it a second thought. All that day and the next, his eye continued to weep and he was being more cuddly and needy than was his norm. On March 21, the eye had gotten worse and he wasn’t opening it at all. I knew in my heart that this was not going to end good.
We called his vet, who was in the Caribbean for the week, texted his other vet and a good friend who adopted older ailing Corgis, looking for someone to tell us what we wanted to hear, but all three gave us the same sage advice. It’s always better to go out on a good note, while he still remembers you and before he is so far gone with pain and confusion, that he’s not the dog you’ve known and loved. We took him to the only vet that could see him the same day. The tears started as we left him with a strange vet and waited to hear what could be done. At 10:30 the phone rang, the vet said she needed to remove the eye but needed to do all these tests first to be sure the “cancer”, first time I heard anyone call the tumor cancer, hadn’t spread. Of course we agreed to do whatever it took to get our boy happy again. The phone rang again, Gandaulf needed to be sedated just to do the ultrasound. It was time to stop all treatment, keeping in mind the advice we had been given. We went to the vet and picked him up.
The next few hours we played ball, ate ice cream and ate hamburgers through the tears. Gandaulf seemed to be perfect, enjoying his playtime and extra special treats. I held his paw as he napped one last time on his throne in the van and Chris and I cried asking each other if we were doing the right thing. We just wanted someone else to make the decision and speak the words. At 3:30 we took him back to the vet and we’re escorted into “the room”, the finale to a great life and the most compassionate act in our lives together. At 4pm, as I held him in my arms, Gandaulf went to sleep, never to wake up again in pain in this world.
We truly thought we would die right there along with him. We knew however that he would not want us to stop living our life of adventure and travel. We knew that this little guy was a tremendous part of our lives and he was going to be missed dearly. We knew that the tears would flow, some days would be good, some not so. It’s been almost two weeks, we are still struggling but slowly getting on with our lives. He will always be remembered by all those he touched in his short life. He had a huge impact on ours. Someday the pain will not accompany the tears, the tears will dry up and a smile will replace them when seeing his pictures, his beautiful smile, all our memories that he was part of. Someday…
Two Travelin' Chicas... 