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.
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…
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.
In my head I hear this stately gentleman’s voice, like the Nat Geo guy from the 60s and 70s, walking us through what we are seeing in this incredible, one to one encounter with everything from insects to archeology. Am I smart or just a parrot repeating a previously recorded message from being immersed in this reality. A city kid with absentee parents, handed off to who ever had time for me. Off in a rant…
So I’m experiencing life on another level, and with understandings of my mind, through the eyes of many. I have a 360 degree vista of the Sedona wilderness I’ll call it. The low drone of the occasional UTV or Pink jeep tour going to the native ruins down the trail a bit breaks the desert silence. The colors of the late afternoon sun deepen the reds and cream colored sandstone cliffs and mesas surrounding us until the last pink and orange of the setting sun paints the landscape. The night soon takes over and dismisses the last of the blues and purples for its inky blackness.
We decide to have a fire, which is my hypnotic friend. It takes hold of your consciousness and transports you to a dream like state of reality. Tomorrow I explore the Boynton Canyon vortex. The fire transports me into the universe and the energy that surrounds us. My senses become alive with the vibration. The warmth and brilliance of the flames brings me back. I take the last sip of my drink and head off to bed.
The night brings tormented dreams of a long gone past. I wrestle with the memories and wake up from a fitful sleep with tears running down my face. I quickly close one hand then the other and still my mind…it was only a dream I tell myself, but this place has a way of seriously messing with your psyche. I find Chris and reassure myself that I am here and now and drift back to sleep.
The morning comes early these days. We have parked so the sun comes in the windshield and begins to take off the chill. We sleep in today, making up for too many fitful nights for me. I roll over and snuggle in deep to Chris’s chest and drift back off. Gandaulf will have none of this and decides its time to get up. Licks all around, and he begins running circles over top the covers then bounds towards the door.
I get up and open the door. A rush of cool air fills the van and I shudder with it, standing in only my oversized tee shirt and bare feet. I mill about the van making coffee and getting breakfast for the dog. Chris finally slides off the end of the bed, sleep still hanging on her eyelids. A cheerful good morning as I slip on my jeans and shoes and head out the door.
The morning air is still and I survey the vista that surrounds us. I can smell the fire from last night and hear a small bird in the trees. I take a deep breath in and raise my arms to the sky, stretch and release into the day. The coffee is beginning to perk and the heavenly aroma fills the senses.
Today I go one way and Chris another. She’s not much into the spiritual sights so she decides to go for a trail ride on her bike. We pack up for the days adventure and I get Gandaulf in the UTV and head towards the Boynton Canyon trail.
The dusty road to the trailhead covers me, Gandaulf and the UTV is a fine layer of silt and I squint as my eyes become dry and irritated. Only six more miles and we will be free from the choking dust. We putt along trying to read the heavily dusted brown USFS signs to the trailhead. As soon as the NO PARKING signs begin to appear I know I’m close. I secure a parking spot, glad I am in the UTV since the parking lot was quite full.
Gandaulf springs up and stands up, paws hanging on the door barking with joy…the dog loves to hike. It’s only a mile hike but I soon realize, it’s all uphill. After quite a bit of slick rock scrambling I reach a ridge and I see hundreds of carrins stacked in every direction. I can see Kachina Woman, the female portion of the vortex. She stands stoically in deep burnt orange against the clear blue sky. There are trails leading all around her base and makeshift alters under the cedar trees and along rock outcroppings. I stop for a minute and feel the energy. Gandaulf looks up at me tilting his head inquisitively.
Another hundred feet or so and I crest the saddle between Katchina Woman and her male counterpart. Several juniper trees stand atop, twisted and distorted in ways unlike anything I’ve seen. Cacti grow bent into circular shapes. The piñon pines grow in abnormally twisted trunks and branches, as if drawn towards the vortex.
Sitting atop the male pillar is a gentleman playing a Native American flute. It’s shrill soulful melody calls out the native in me and I transform into energy. I ground myself under one of the twisted junipers and sit upon its gnarled roots. Gandaulf cuddled up beside me and drifted off to sleep.
For what seems like hours, I sit quietly in meditation. The energy flowing through me, giving and taking from Mother Earth. My mind empties and not a thought exists, only the vibration and ebb and flow of the energy. In my minds eye I become one with the tree, feeling my roots deep in the earth as if in a lovers embrace. I see the ancient cliffs and feel the ancestors speaking of peace and love and deep sorrow. I can feel a troubling sadness and want to weep in this sadness. I am startled by voices and return to my place under the tree. I hold the tree and let it hold me in an embrace of loving kindness. I thank the Mother for this time and the message she gave me. Gandaulf rolls over and I scratch his belly as I return to the present. I breathe deeply and rise, scanning the 360 degree horizon and feel gratitude for this beautiful encounter.
I stand at the edge of the vast canyon laid out before me. The various colors of red, orange, greens and browns all delight my senses as I stand quiet, feeling the chill of the early morning breezes.
The ancient sandstone pillars stand silently atop the massive plateau dotted with grey sagebrush. On the thermals soars a raven, circling ever higher in a balancing act of wind and wing.
I stare deep into the deep grandeur of the canyons below and imagine the strength of the river and wind… what marvelous architects.
Again I feel the warmth of the sun and I’m brought back.
The mountains stand steadfast in the distance. Dark purple and grey, climbing high above the desert floor in a majesty all their own.
The songs of the past whisper on the wind, telling stories of hardship and a love of the land… a spiritual connection to the vast night sky full of starts and the brilliant blue of the day. The blazing sun and the parched land yielding only enough to eek out a living. I can hear the cries of the warrior, the yelp of the coyote, the singing of the canyon wren, the rustle of the dry yellow leaves of the mesquite.
My heart sighs, my mind settles and my eyes take in all it sees with gratitude for this new day.
We pulled in late last night, as is our norm with the short days. Since we crossed the time line in Nevada, and lost an hour with DLST, sunset at 4:30, dark is around 5:15-5:30. Of course, fire restrictions are on high alert, so we pretty much retreat to our van after gazing at the sun fire red clouds and the darkening skies of sunset. On our new schedule, that means we have about 4-5 hours to play/drive, before it’s dark.
We come upon the park at about 4 pm. The parking lot that the NFS calls a “campground” (Sunset) reminded me of parking at a drive-in movie. It was all that was available. No fires, dogs on leash, just our kind of place. Not.
The morning comes super early as well and by 6 am it’s full on light outside. By 7 am the big RVs in the “campground” have turned on their generators. The van is pretty well insulated from sound so it’s just a dull roar. We decided to set out early and explore the other campground above us. We drove through last night and checked it out, but it fills everyday by around 2-3:00 pm.
After some Coffee and a quick breakfast we grab our e-bikes and are off to seek out our new home base. The host told us to go up around 11 am to secure a site, so we grabbed our chairs and a backpack and headed up to the campground to find a spot. After riding around for 20-30 minutes, we found a few empty spots, got together and picked one. #71 Home base.
It ended up being a lazy day. Chris was still recovering from some gastric issues (day 3) so our bike ride was about 3 miles too many. We are desperately in need of showers…going on day 4 tomorrow. We rode around to find the “showers” that showed on the maps but they never materialized. I’m guessing tomorrow will be bath day…
Ya know what sucks about National Parks is that they are so “structured”… ok, strict?… in the year of COVID or *rona, that’s people on people. Everybody and their uncle is out in the parks, wilderness, trails and so forth. We all practice social distancing and depending on the state/county, some will wear masks. We are incredibly paranoid about getting this. Maybe we won’t die but what if we have a month in the hospital? That could literally bankrupt so many families and ding us pretty good.
Social distancing in DEATH Valley… I think I read somewhere that like 1.7 million people come to Death Valley every year… Hmmm that means that from late October to early March, which are tolerable temperatures, over 635,000 a month, 21,000 people a day, entering the park in those 4.5 months, from all over the US, the hotspot of the pandemic.
Now to say this doesn’t weigh heavy on our minds everyday we have to use a gas station, toilet, go grocery shopping? Sometimes I find myself in a pure panic and can just envision the germs invading my nostrils. LOL. Then I’m reminded that we are all dying anyway… so live your life as safe as you can but not in fear. Not buying into any herd mentality mind you. More like impermanence.
Day two. Lazy morning. Coffee outside in the sun. Slight breeze blowing and the sound of new campers driving around looking for a camp spot. The low murmur of people talking to one another. Our van has been quite a hit and we continue to get compliments. It’s a conversation starter for sure. Gandaulf has also touched so many hearts. Kids and adults alike. It’s really hard to draw boundaries when people are kind and interested. I really don’t want to be afraid of people but I am.
The parched landscape of Death Valley whispers solitude and isolation. The multi-colored rocks, sand and salt bring to life thousands of years of history. Scattered along the landscape are brilliant green oasis where the brutal force of tech tonic plates grinding together forcing super heated waters to seep to the surface. From this violent beginning comes life in all its magnificence. In the middle of the hottest, driest place on earth, life in its simplest form can survive.
The color pallet laid out before me in the rocky landscape is soothing to the eye. The earth tone browns, yellows, reds, greens, a whole miriad of colors, blending together. Countless eons of time, layer upon layer, thrust up into the air by forces I can’t even begin to know, but my mind imagines the violent beginnings. Now all that remains are majestic, multicolored mountains, outlined in cobalt blue and wisps of white.
After a day of exploring the depths of the once inland sea -301’ below sea level, we wandered over to the Devils Golf Course. It looks like a frozen river at thaw… huge chunks of salt crack and move. We stood quietly and listened to the metallic ting as the salt moved in the heat. The beauty and starkness boggled my mind and my child just wanted to explore… so we did. Chris one way and I the other.
We drove around and did a few hikes and took lots of pictures. We had lunch on the side of the road and chilled taking in the view. We drove back to the camp site with our jaws dropping view after view.
Nighttime:
The sun sets so early these days. I am grateful that it is so warm outside when it is “pitch black”. The campground looks like a small encampment of like minded people. Fires blazing against the inky blackness. People laugh and there’s music drifting on the warm air. The sky peppered with millions of pin pricks of light. The stars are thick and the milky way shows itself against the absolute darkness. I stare off for untold minutes loosing myself in the vast starlit sky. I am one with the universe. My mind mingles with the infinite wisdom and light… I feel minuscule but incredibly voluminous. I return to our little village, as Gandaulf tugs on his leash trying to relieve himself.
4,000 feet Day 4:
We decided to pull up stakes and head up into the foothills in the Death Valley Wilderness area. The breeze is blowing and it’s 15 degrees cooler. There is an abundance of life and even a solitary big old cottonwood in showy yellow. I just want to hug that big ole cottonwood and listen to its stories. At the mouth of a wash dug deep into the desert floor and that tree. The image is burned into my mind in all its ancient glory.
Our camp is quiet, except for the occasional vehicle going up the narrow canyon. The road said 25’ maximum length… I didn’t see it until I was already committed so I crossed my fingers and carried on. It was one of those scary windy 1 1/2 lanes wide. The turns were tight and 40’ meant hogging all of it through the turns. We arrived at Wild Rose Camp and picked a spot over looking the canyon and trees.
We settled in and set up camp. We kinda messed up and went to a camp with not much to do around it. We made the best of it and explored further up the canyon, minus the trailer. The hills up above the valley floor look like they are covered in velvet. The rolling folds accented by the late afternoon sun were a sight to behold. The fact that anything can eek out a living in this bone dry place is amazing in itself. Quite the contrary, this place is teaming with life from wispy grass like plants, sages, to several varieties of hardy trees. Nature has found a balance of life and death in this DEATH Valley.
I rise to the sound of the river. It’s fluid motion is heard above the birds welcoming the morning. I kick the covers from around my feet and sit up, bleary eyed and semi-conscious… another day in the solitude of the forest.
My puppy hears me rustling and jumps up for morning scratches and a nice long stretch. He rolls over and I awaken my stiff hands in his warm fur. Mornings are tough when it’s cold and damp outside, but this is my world, my new existence. The outdoors have become my backyard.
I slide to the edge of the bed. My girlfriend is already up and making some nice hot coffee to waken my foggy brain and warm my cold hands. It continued to rain all night and a low mist hangs around the trees in the mountains before me. The ground sodden from the rain and smelling of fresh wet earth. My senses delight in the sounds and smells.
I pull on my clothes, left in a pile last night as I quickly undressed and ran for the cover of my warm bed, and breathe slowly as I inch my half frozen pants over my legs. The air in the van is damp and smells of the campfire we had all day yesterday to keep warm. The light is hazy as it struggled to break from behind the clouds and stream into the windows. I open the door and step into the morning.
The sky has begun to clear and has been washed of the smoke that has been choking the air and hiding the suns brilliance. I can see the sun as it slides down the mountain sides, illuminating the changing colors. Bright yellow, orange, red and vibrant green accent the mountain side, as fall starts to paint the mountains with its magical brush. I long for the warmth.
I take a chair close to the edge of the river and sit down to a piping hot cup of joe and feel it warm me as I take a sip. My girlfriend comes over and softly kisses my cheek and says “good morning.” I reciprocate with “thanks for the coffee.” She pulls up a chair and sits beside me. I take another sip and concentrate on it as it warms me on the way down my throat. This is life…and life is good.
The past week has been a tough one as far as breathing goes. The Northwest is on fire and the smoke follows the wind. We were fortunate to not have had the smoke all summer until this last week. I am reminded of the damage caused with a deep rattling cough. Between the dust and the smoke, my lungs are burning to breathe fresh mountain air once again. Today the rains have scrubbed the sky brilliant blue and the air fresh and cool.
Out of the corner of my eye I see a quick brown flash of movement. I turn my attention to two squirrels as they chase each other through the branches. Their acrobatics bring to me a sense of joy as they jump and scamper from tree to tree. Chattering wildly as they the run around, Gandaulf sees them and enters their game of chase.
We’re packing up for a hike along the Selway River in the Selway Bitterroot NF. We’re planning on about a 5 mile hike… it is the first real hike of our trip. Gandaulf is suited up in his green neoprene fleece jacket and orange bandanna. We layer up since it’s cold now but by the time we get to the trail head, 12 miles away by UTV, it will be warming up.
We pack the essential do-dads and emergency stuff, and pack it away in our day pack. We pack the jetboil and some chicken enchilada freeze dried backpack food and some lunch for the Boo. We pack some extra water, the .38, bear spray, and rain jackets. Nothing tastes better after a strenuous hike, than a cold beer, but we have decided to forgo those until our return to camp.
I topped off the gas in The Thing (our UTVs name) and take a rag to the thick layer of dust coating everything, mixed into a nice mud slurry from the rain the last 24 hours. We load up and do a double check and are off to Paradise.
We knew from speaking to the Fish and Game warden, that there are bears, wolves, mountain lions and rattlesnakes along the trails route… so we packed the .38 and the bear spray in close proximity to our front so if by chance we happen upon one of these predators, we can run… Ever read the label on bear spray? Remove the safety and spray a tiny test to see which way the wind is blowing! Do they really think anyone will have time to follow the directions? Hell no! Shoot to kill, mame, or injure then run! Instinct will win with most people.
We hop in the UTV and take off for Paradise, at the end of the Magruder Corridor. It’s a beautiful semi-primitive campground and the host to many of the trails in the area. We set out, packs on our backs, hiking sticks, Gandaulf in his finest wear, the .38… no bear spray!! No good… So I head back to the UTV to get it and run into a line of pack mules heading up to some random hunters camp. The mule skinner was polite and we let him pass.
We hiked about 2.5 miles through a heavily forested trail lined with white cedar trees thick with old mans beard. The rocks were carpeted with the most vibrant green moss and old dead fall was reduced to sodden fibrous skeletons, providing a new fertile place for low forest floor plants. As we came upon the cutoff for Bad Luck Creek, we saw our first bear track. We just brushed off the berry filled scat as old but these tracks were new. The hairs instantly rise on your neck when you realize you are in the presence of the top predator in the area.
I moved my bear spray closer and removed the safety, Chris checked her .38 and we laughed as we hiked on SUPER VIGILANT! We came to a stream crossing at around 3 miles in and decided to turn around and head out. I grabbed the keys to the UTV and fastened them to my hiking stick as a makeshift bear bell. You’ve never heard a set of keys make as much noise as it did today.
We hiked on and heard some footsteps coming up the trail and I noticed our Fish and Game Warden, Victor, coming around the corner. We exchanged pleasantries and I showed him the picture of bear poo that was fresh as of a few hours. He said a hunter almost walked in top of a bear yesterday by where we saw the prints. He was in for a 15 mile hike to an airfield in the wilderness where hunters and outfitters take clients to hunt elk, deer, bear… whatever is in season. We wished each other well and took off.
We were getting hungry and knew of a nice area right by the river for a stop for lunch. Of course we made sure we were up wind from our food smells. Gandaulf barked and created a safe environment for us, at least from bears. We made our chicken enchiladas and scarfed it down, each of us secretly thinking of the same thing… bears.
By the time we had made it back to our UTV, we had seen more fresh scat than we cared to, like it wasn’t there when we hiked in. Bear for sure, some other smaller animal that also loved the blue berries, and a white, well formed large poo full of fur. Guessing wolf or maybe mountain lion. At our lunch spot was an old moldy, very thick leg bone that had been caught between a long tree root and a rock, probably during high water. It had been snapped off in a very clean break. The bone was about 12” long and at the point of the break about 3” in diameter. We found many other bones and lots of scat to indicate maybe a favorite dinning spot. It’s is kinda creepy to think about being 4th in the predator line.
We made our way back to camp (home) and settled in for a good cold beer and to discuss all the sign we saw. Play ball with Gandaulf and nurse our sore bodies.
We are but babes when it comes to living on the road. We left the comforts of a masonry four walled building to the comforts of our van/RV. We gave up only the creature comforts that require you to spend mindless hours staring at something that turns your mind to mush. We still have hot water showers, a toilet, a bed, AC, heat, a stove, running water and a sink, chairs to sit on, an IK, a UTV, hiking poles, fishing gear, decorations in the walls and plenty of cabinet space. What more do we need?
Living on the road requires a little more attention than falling through the routine that is “responsible living.” We both have jobs… I take care of the mechanical breakdowns and fix-it stuff and Chris takes care of organizing and anything financial. We both share in driving, cooking, and clean up.
Our routine varies, depending on where we camp or the weather. Coffee is of course first on the agenda and we make some of the best! Italian expresso makers, Hydro Flask mugs to keep it piping hot and the finest ground coffee.
We find the most perfect vantage point, looking over a river or canyon, in the early morning sun to warm up. Then we set up and sit as we listen to the sounds, or lack there of. We talk about the day and what we might do or see. Maybe a day in the hammocks reading, maybe a river float, fishing, hiking, sight seeing, or shopping for the weeks meals. The world is our pallet we choose how to color it.
It took a little time to trust leaving our camp unattended without locking down the place like Fort Knox… After all, this is now everything we own and our home space. We choose to live mostly outside which is where we both feel the greatest connection. There is an unspoken rule between campers that needed to be trusted before we could go away from camp and be ok that no one will mess with your stuff. So far we have not had any incidents.
We rely heavily on maps and Garmin. Trip Advisor is a good source, as is local word of mouth, for finding the out of the way gems that tourist tend to over look. Although electronics are pretty reliable, they don’t always show you the single track road that goes to the most beautifully isolated valley, stream or lake. In a way we are explorers in own own back yard, after all, the world is our back yard.
Sometimes we are forced to stay in established campgrounds, rest stops, gas stations or a neighborhood or parking lot. This is just part of life on the road. We prefer dispersed camping on Forest Service land or BLM lands. Sometimes the only human life is miles away and the silence can be deafening. I enjoy being very still and slowly allowing my senses to awaken to the intricacies of the world around me. The colors, smells, sounds, feeling of the sun on my bare skin, the vibrations of all around me, all these create a world of peace and imagination.
It’s no small task to take off on a road trip of a lifetime. To become a traveler of both time and space. Exploring anything that catches our eye. Going with the weather, eventually heading North and cutting the umbilical cord from our life of 28 years. This of course means I need to get a good handle on my tribe and understand and work with Chris and Tracy to keep me in line if I should loose focus. It’s tiring to stay so focused, but I know it’s what I got to do.
Gandaulf is enjoying life on the road… or he just loves being with his moms all the time. Either way he is comfortable in the van and that’s a good thing. He has his own memory foam seat between us and is able to see out the windows. He is starting to even learn to sleep while driving. He’s such a good boy and everyone loves him.
WE did this 27 yrs ago. Sold everything we owned, and hit the road. Back then it was a silly dream, early middle age crisis… a healing journey that solidified our relationship. We both are at home in nature, be it mountains, deserts, beaches not so much big cities. This is a journey with no real destination. A healing vagabond journey. A wondering yogi. Two lost souls looking to release, relax and reconnect.
My girlfriend and I have been planning our escape for years. It was some fear and apprehensions that stopped us from taking the leap years ago and wandering our beautiful planet on a forever way of life…traveling.
We planned and saved every dollar we could. Tried to make good decisions about big purchases. Brought our company to a viable asset. Fixed everything physically wrong with our aging bodies so we could be young again. We made a goal of 2017 as our jumping off point.
Well 2017 came and went. We put our business up for sale at the beginning of 2017. We had several interested parties, but running a car dealership is not as simple as liking cars. Everyone that came to the table either faded away when they found out how much was actually involved or the banks turned them down. I fell into a deep depression that I kept hidden as best as I could.
We set ourselves up to live a good life. We built our dream home 18 years ago and are about 3-4 years away from paying it off. Our house is warm and comfortable and WAY too big for our little family of two humans and a corgi. It was a tax shelter and necessity which has now become a source of financial security, affording us freedom if we could cut the chains.
We have read countless books on becoming a minimalist. We have attended Overlanding expos and created good, healthy ties with fellow explorers and travelers living both here in the US and in foreign countries. We bought a 2015 Ford Transit 250 to build into our adventure mobile. Of course with our still busy schedule it has not had much attention. So here we sit, chained to our business and unwilling to give up our comfortable home until the sale.
To make matters worse… everyday we wake up to another mass shooting, another unarmed kid shot by cops, a narcissistic POTUS who is batshit crazy and can seriously impact our financial health, physical health and turn the world against us. Kids are taking to the streets demanding change but getting the hand by the grownups they rally against. It is just too much for my fragile psyche to be bombarded with everyday.
Why take off and leave all that we know? Why sell off everything and have nothing but freedom to show for it? Why break away from all that is comfortable and travel to third world countries where people are happy and live harmoniously with the world around them? Seriously… you need to ask!
Two Travelin' Chicas... 