van life – Two Travelin' Chicas…

Moving on: Five years on the road

In a world such as we live in, it’s easy to become enveloped in the haste, waste, and turmoil. We are often overloaded with sound, visual violence and opinions spread out on WiFi, TV and podcasts. Social media fans the flames of whatever you choose to search for.

We run around in belching cars and buses, squeeze into tubes of steel shot through tunnels underground like the voles we curse every spring. We jump into flimsy aluminum winged machines and are totally disconnected from the ground itself flung through the air to our next destination. We live in cement towers, scraping the sky, in little wooden boxes and climate controlled rooms. We walk on a foot of cement and steel below our feet. We wrap our feet in shoes and socks. Plug our ears with buds and bury our faces in our phones.

We live in a place that chooses to treat symptoms instead of sorting through to the root cause of our ‘dis-ease’.

STOP! Enough…we had to tell ourselves that this is not making us happy. We chose to become nomads.

Over the last 5 years of travel, we have learned so much. Seen so much. Encountered people and cultures that have enveloped us in their embrace. We’ve managed to become part of and welcomed into strangers’ lives. We’ve given back to the people and embraced new languages, customs and experiences. We have “family” all over the world. Our lives are so much fuller and complete. But…it’s time to stop and get grounded again. To kick off our shoes and walk in the sand, swim in the ocean and streams, become an observer of the life around us rather than being immersed in the doing. Costa Rica has won our hearts.

Seeing a beautiful bird fly through the air, hearing the myriad of sounds that subtly stimulate the senses. Watching Mother Nature unleash her fury in a place built to take it and shake it off like water on a ducks back. Being in a place so alive, where much of living is done outdoors in the abundance of nature that surrounds us. It’s deeply healing to finally be grounded. Surrounded by like minded souls that feed each other rather than take. A place of serenity and deep seated balance with the life around us. A place devoid of the negative stimulation we are so accustomed to.

I think we will find a new family here too. Awakening to a new way of life, new language, new sights and sounds. Not as a traveler or tourist, but a place to call home. Today, five years to the day we started our nomadic life, we settle down and ground ourselves in a new home in Uvita, Costa Rica.

Costa Rica has so much to give. Clean air, clean water, clean power, beautiful flora and fauna. Hell even some of the streets are paved in small towns. A country dedicated to wellness, environment and nature. A slower pace. People so friendly, my face hurts by the end of the day because everyone smiles! Everyone says hello and how are you, while standing still and waiting for your reply. There are no strangers here because once they notice your new, they want to help you in any way. Refreshing!

Transitioning: A place to call home

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.

Driving while gringo

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

Getting back into the FUSA was quite an experience.

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

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

Well that was a mistake.

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

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

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

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

The Days of Our Lives

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.

A fast paced life? Not for me

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

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

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

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

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

Just Do It…

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!!

The Roads of Baja

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baja Holiday

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sun Glitter…a day at the beach

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Down a Winding Desert Road

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

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

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

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