traveling on a dime – Page 2 – Two Travelin' Chicas…

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.

Southward Bound

It’s warm and cozy, sitting in Willow (our van) with the heat on. It rained last night, as usual, and the morning sun is busting out at the seams as the heavy clouds give in to the coming day.

The rain drops sit poised on the edge of the turning leaves and bushes on the forest floor, just waiting to bedazzle the world when the sun finds its small existence. The lack of squirrels portends the coming of the fall chill and the stupendous color change beginning. For the last month, these busy little creatures have been scurrying from tree to tree, digging holes and filling them with a winter bounty, if they can find them under a blanket of fresh snow. The geese have been filling the skies in huge, jagged Vs, honking as they begin their southerly migration. Perhaps we should take note of these happenings and head south ourselves.

We crossed the border from British Columbia Canada, a few days ago. The fall colors slowly fading out and the green leaves have reappeared as if we passed backward through time. The spectacular mountain vistas giving way to the subtle rolling hills covered in orchards and vineyards, then the unending flat fields of golden grains, farm houses and rogue silos, interrupting the golds with a few ancient cottonwoods, tin roofs glinting the suns rays like a diamond amongst the fields of gold. We’ve been sticking to wandering the backroads, trying to eek out whatever new experience we can find as we meander southward.

It’s always bittersweet when we move from one place to another. This trip, now spanning over 9,500 miles, has seemed like a blur. The vast Canadian wilderness, coupled with the wildness of the Alaskan frontier, has made it easy to immerse oneself in nature, primal and raw. To have an intimate insight into the lives of the First Nations people, the animals and fishes that roam the vastness, the small plants, boreal forests, 14,000’ mountains, glaciers and lakes, Arctic tundra, towering fiords, and so much untamed beauty…has been a blessing that is etched into my mind forever.

An Ode to Rubber Boots

The rain has come for another day…

I slink back to my bedroom and on my bed lay.

Oh come on says, a small voice in my head,

It’s but a bit of rain…

With fog drifting over head.

Just put on those rubber boots…

And throw off your dread.

My rubber boots are warm, cozy and dry…

If my toes are happy,

Then so am I.

So I wrangled myself

From out of my bed,

Opened the closet and then I said…

This will be fun.

This will be good.

I’ll put on my rubber boots,

I’ll be safe from harm…

My feet will be happy,

My feet will be warm.

A smile came over me…

I pulled in my rain coat

And was as happy as could be.

I opened the door

And I said to myself…

no more.

I stepped into the rain,

I clicked my heals…

And without a complaint,

I thanked that little

voice in my head.

I was out of doors.

No more stuck inside.

And my rubber boots…

Kept me warm, safe and dry.

Crossing borders

It’s been 12 days since we left Salt Lake City. Twelve days of constant driving, sleeping, hiking and driving some more. Yesterday, we crossed from Canada into Alaska. The grandeur of the views before us just kept getting more and more grand as we pushed through the rolling hills, and back to the Great Northern Rocky Mountains.

White Pass was a long mountainous pass with switchbacks and craggy glacier choked peaks jutting up from the valleys…with rivers flowing out of these behemoths in cascading waterfalls. Scattered snow melt lakes dotted the landscape, each with its own color of blue, green or milky white. The subalpine trees sprung up from rocky out crops and random high spots, stunted by the harsh winter months and many feet of snow. Small creatures darted from tree to tree, outcropping to outcropping. Birds flitted from tree to tree, with some doing crazy mid-air acrobatics, chasing insects we can’t see.

We exited the ALCAN Highway in Tagish, connecting with the Klondike Highway for our last push into Skagway, Alaska. The history along this stretch of road dates way back to the late 1800s when the gold rush took over this part of Canada and Alaska. The Tlingit people trapped this harsh land for survival. The Russians came to harvest what they could from the gold rich mountain streams and lakes and to buy pelts from the Tlingit people.

In 1942, the Alaska Highway was being completed which brought more and more people into the small villages and allowed for stores, saloons and hotels to spring up creating a booming mercantile market that allowed for easy sale of pelts and goods needed for gold mining. All this collapsed as the gold dried up. The roads to the villages still remained so the Tlingit continued to occupy the infrastructure that remained and created a lucrative trading business of beaver, lynx, bobcat and other large game animal hides. They supplied gas to westward travelers in their fancy new cars, a place to sleep and eat. Some of these towns, such as Dyea, have streets and street name signs, but the buildings have long since returned to the earth. Only trees, pictures on posts, and a boreal forest stand where the buildings once did. It is left to the imagination once again.

We chose to stay in the historic district/town of Dyea last night and tonight. Our camp sits on a tidal river. We learned that there are 22 different species of mosquito in Alaska, and I think we encountered half of them. A strong breeze did keep the rest of them away. We were entertained by a couple of bald eagles hunting on the tidal flats. We were not so amused by the little chipmunks that thought it would be fun to get up under the hood and strip some felt insulation off an intake for the fresh air by digging it off fuzzy piece by fuzzy piece. We decided to tape the shit out of it to prevent any more marauding.

Today we packed up, went into town, and got showers at the Skagway Rec Center…much needed. You can pay $10 and stand under all the hot water you want! They even provide towels…bonus. Now all clean and wearing clean clothes, we are going to “paint the town” of Skagway.

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

2,000 + Years of History: Kotor and Budva

We just left Kotor Old City for Budva Old City, Montenegro. It’s like stepping way back in time. Being from the United States, my mind is blown and mesmerized as I walk inside the stone walls and tiny alleyways. There are mazes of a stone, rising up to steep narrow halls and well worn steps climbing up and up to unseen passageways. There are layers upon layers of historic old buildings

Both of these cities were built as fortresses as far back as 600 BC. Romans, Illyrians, Byzantiums, Italians, Hungarians, French, Austrians, Russians, Germans, Kings and Queens all laid claim to these Adriatic cities at one time or another. They have survived fires, wars, plagues and earthquakes. Kotor was know by many names through the centuries as was Budva. The Serbian Dynasty played a hand in making Kotor a port city linking it to the west. The Nazis took over from 1941-1944 during WWII.

Budva was founded by the Greek King and Queen of Thebe in the 5th century BC, King Kadmo and Queen Harmonia. Sharing much of the same historical occupations, wars and catastrophic earthquakes as Kotor, it remains a city steeped in rich history and pride.

In the 2nd century BC the Romans ruled until the fall of the Empire. The city fought occupation of all the same ruling countries as Kotor. As a well developed sea port, commodities of olives and grapes, made it a city worth occupying. It’s history is steeped in rich myth and folklore which the generations have kept alive.

Both Kotor and Budva were decimated most recently by a magnitude 7 earthquake in 1979. Over a thousand buildings and structures were damaged and 100,000 inhabitants were displaced. UNESCO stepped in and over the next 4 years both cities were restored to their historical original dispositions.

We would encourage anyone looking to immerse themselves in an ancient city, culture and the ghosts of the past, to visit and stay inside the walls of these two Adriatic Sea-towns. To wander through and get lost in the labyrinth of passageways during the day and then to encounter the city nights as well. To listen to the peal of the church bells, to adore the many beloved street cats, to climb the old worn stairs to the upper cities and hidden doorways leading to fascinating bars, restaurants and guesthouses. You can just feel the energy.

Austria…A Small Peek

Let me start by saying that Austria was never on our radar until one night, sitting in a Fado Bar in Portugal, I asked the couple adjacent to us where they were from. They couldn’t stop talking about their homeland Austria, with its beauty and diversity. Well, that got the ball rolling.

We arrived in Austria two weeks ago during which time we’ve ridden bikes along the Danube River, slept on a riverboat that followed, walked all over Vienna, Salzburg, and Innsbruck, and paddled down the glacier-fed Inn River on a white water rafting trip in Haiming.

Our eyes have seen soaring, snow capped mountains of the Tyrollean Alps, the wide river Danube, tamed by lochs and diversion dams, hundreds of castles, monasteries, waterfalls and bridges that span great gorges. We’ve walked the cobbled stone streets of cities that date back to Roman times with fortresses built on high plateaus. We’ve heard the chorus of church bells that echo through the canyons and valleys. All have brought joy to our hearts.

Austria is a cultural melting pot as well. A place that holds the horrors of wars and the pride of triumph over aggression. Many homes perched high on the mountain sides have hand carved wooden facades. Statues skillfully carved and fountains honoring royalty, scholars and musicians, are skillfully etched in stone and bronze. Roman gods and goddesses and mythical beings tower over us mere mortals as we walk by. Story after story of uprise and defeat are engrained in the lives of the souls that live there. The hard working people and the pride each holds in their heart to be Austrian. The wonderful smiles and cheerful hellos make even the loneliest traveler feel at home.

An indelible set if memories have been etched into my mind and captured in our photographs. It’s definitely worth the visit.

And the trip goes on…

It’s our last day in Lisbon and we are hanging out at the Home Lisbon Hostel. It’s a beautiful place to hang for sure. Great people, great staff, bathrooms, a kitchen and good WiFi. We had a marvelous night listening to Fado. Fado is a traditional music in Portugal and other Latino countries. It’s a song that tells a story, similar to opera or country/folk music. Last night we had a male and female singer accompanied by two guitarist, one 6 sting traditional guitar and one 10 string round body guitar. The expressiveness of the singers and the guitarist was very dramatic and understanding the words didn’t really matter, they were transmitted through the operatic voice giving me the chills and bringing tears to my eyes.

After an exquisite meal at Tasquinha Restaurant, located on a street atop “the elevator”, an escalator in the middle of nowhere on the way up to the Lisbon Castle, Sao George Castle. We happened upon it at lunchtime and found out, from the owner, all about Fado, so we made a booking for dinner.

All of June is a festival of the saints. Every night there is live music and partying revelers flood the streets outside cafes and bars/pubs. Because Portugal is a safe place, many people from Ukraine come here to escape the war, swelling the population, making bookings in advance a must.

Everything slows down here except the traffic. While moving from our guesthouse, Archi-Pelagro, our Bolt driver (similar to Uber), was faced head on by an electric trolley driver who would not let us and the 3 cars behind us pass. Our driver got out of his car after a horn blowing contest, and reasoned with the driver of the trolley to backup about 10 feet so the three cars could narrowly pass beside him, driving over the curb. Driving in old town Lisbon is difficult at best. On the hills, the electric trolleys rule the streets.

We’ve walked, or rather climbed over 40 miles this 5 days. That may not sound like much, but with all streets at a 12-15% grade, it’s quite an achievement. Liken to climbing the Eiffel Tower and back down. Most streets have narrow cobbled stone travertine walkways and other pedestrian walkways through what we would consider scary or unsafe back in the states, but here they are old alleyways, brimming with history. One of the streets/alleyways last night contained a sign and photos of the elderly residents of the street and recognition of how they’ve become iconic influencers during their lives. So cool!

We have been planning our adventure as we go along. Last night we sat beside an Austrian couple on holiday, driving from their home in Austria to Portugal and back. I asked them if they had a week in Austria, what would they do? Non-touristy stuff. Francesca started going in about the Danube River from Passau, Germany all the way to Venice via a self-guided electric bike tour. Now how totally cool is that?! An e-bike here is more like a moped, and a Pedelc, is an electronic assist bike. We spent the morning looking into these trips and planning our trip after the Azores.

Our next stop is Madeira and The Azores. The Algarve coast is the beginning of the Mediterranean Sea. We found the perfect town to visit about 50 miles west of Faro, Portugal, Carvoeiro, Portugal. There is just about anything you could want from sea kayaking, to hiking cliffs and dunes. Stay tuned for a post.

Lisbon, Portugal June 2023

We emerged from our guesthouse and onto a very narrow street with many streets running off in all directions. For the directionally challenged, this could be a house of mirrors. The sound of music and people chatter fill the air in quiet whispers carried on the breezes.

The streets are bits and pieces of cobbled stones, smoothed from the ages. Built on a hill, Lisbon is a challenge to get around but there are trolleys running up and down the streets. Side alleyways with hundreds of stairs are shortcuts around the maze. This medieval town boosts narrow streets that two people with outstretched arms, could touch wall to wall. Not built for cars but these juggernauts play dodge with the trolleys all day and night.

The side walks are also small white rock chips with stone curbs. The walker shares these with telephone poles, mailboxes and other people. I’ve seen a few brave souls on bikes ferrying their way through the back alley cafes and complicated streets.

Looking up and down each street intersection, one can see squaller and grand castles and churches. Graffiti liters the walls. Clothes hang outside on wires strung high above the streets to save on the cost of electricity. It doesn’t have the overwhelming stench of diesel fumes as in other European cities we’ve just come from.

Our room is in a guesthouse with different common rooms for sitting and cooking. Our room has an interesting arched room, which is left to the imagination of its use or significance. We have hot water for showers, air conditioning for a comfortable night sleep and a comfy queen bed. It’s simple but affords us all we need to sleep, shower and dress. I think this is gonna be a fun city to explore with its sidewalk cafes and little haunts with music and laughter pouring from the doorways and down long hallways.