Everglades National Park

Everglades National Park is 7800 square miles. It’s big! I practically takes up the entire southern end of Florida. I definitely felt the vastness of its size when it took an hour to get from the main visitor center to the campground, but that was only at the southern tip, near the swamplands and mangrove trees. The northern part is just as diverse with pinelands, freshwater sloughs, hardwood hammock areas, cypress trees and scattered swamp lands. A canoe or kayak is required to access the other miles and miles within the park along guided waterways, at your own risk of course.

The landscape of the park is very diverse, which is formed by slow moving water coursing its way through changes in elevations that are measured  in inches, not miles. Slight changes in elevation make all the difference in how much water collects in certain locations, in turn, affecting the density and diversity of vegetation and animal life. This diversity includes animals such as alligators, crocodiles, pythons, panthers, manatees, turtles, otters, deer, pelicans, great egret, roseate spoonbill and many more birds.  Unfortunately, this “diversity” also includes a plethora of mosquitos…..and my least favorite, no-see-ums.

The first night in the park, the weather was a warm and muggy 80 degrees. Tolerable.  The sun would go down in about an hour and I decided to use that time to set-up my camp chair and read for bit.  These little bitty microscopic flies kept landing on me and I swatted at a few of them, but they didn’t seem to be doing any harm, so after a while I just let them alone if they landed on me.  I really wish someone would have warned me about these evil little flies, which I’d later find out are called no-see-ums. Little did I know that damage they could/would do. 

I spent the night sleeping in my car, which I quickly ascertained was a mistake when its 80 degrees and the temperature doesn’t really drop at night and the humidity is almost unbearable. Sleeping in my car-camper had worked fabulously when the weather was cooler in the other states I’d visited, but another hot sweaty night was not going to work. Thankfully, I had brought my small mesh tent and slept in that until the end of my stay.

When I woke up (if you can say that after a night of no sleep) I had little red dots all over my body that itched 10x worse than any mosquito bite. I ended up counting 126 bites in total. Fifty on my left arm alone, a few on my lower legs and right arm, but the majority of the bites were on my butt and outer thighs.  How the hell did those little perverted bugs find their way through my shorts and underwear to my skin??!! Or maybe I should take it as a compliment that my cellulite must be the crème de la crème and they had to work that much harder to get to it. But seriously, how did they get there? I was miserable. Some of the bites felt like they were on fire and I couldn’t resist the temptation to itch. I was grateful that I had packed some cortisone cream and I slathered that stuff all over. It still took over 2 weeks for those bites to go away. The park had the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets, but I felt restricted on how early or late I could stay out for fear of getting eaten alive. Bug spray seemed to have little effect on those evil little flies.

After that rude awakening to Florida bug life, I decided to explore the park and see what other animal life I could find that could potentially cause me harm and kill me. I headed to the visitor center to get some tips on good hikes and sightseeing. The seasoned volunteer at the front desk pulled out a large map and made several recommendations and became very giddy about a main attraction where I was sure to see alligators. In fact, he said he had been to that particular site early this morning and he pulled out his cell phone to show me pictures.

“See?” The man pointed to a selfie he had taken standing about 4ft from an alligator. He continued excitedly in his heavy Maine accent, “The gators are out sunbathing early in the morning so you get a good look at ‘em.”

I raised my eyebrows, looked at him skeptically and asked, “You’re not afraid to be that close to a full size alligator?”

“No, no, not at all. They size you up and see that you’re bigger than they are and they leave you alone. As long as you stay about 15ft away from them at all times, for safety, then even if they do decide to attack you, you have some space to run.”

He’s not making feel very comfortable about visiting this site. I checked him on his ‘safety’ rule, “But you’re only about 4ft away from the alligator in your picture.”

“Yeah, but that’s ok. I’m still here aren’t I?  He didn’t get me!” and then he laughed.

My forehead was beginning to ache from my raised skeptical eyebrows. He then proceeded to tell me about another great hike, tromping around through the swamp to a cypress grove. “But aren’t there alligators in the swamp?!” I asked with serious concern.

He responded casually, “Yeah, of course there are but they’ll leave you alone.”

“How do you know they’ll leave you alone?” I need facts now. I’m not trusting this guy.

“They just will.”

“How many reported fatalities are reported every year from alligator or wildlife encounters?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s very many.”

This guy was killing me. His radar for detecting fear in tourists was obviously broken and he wasn’t doing much to instill a desire to see wildlife up close and personal.  I’m used to being told to definitely stay away from wildlife…..because they could kill you!! I’ve seen plenty of National Geographic documentaries of alligators or crocodiles (whichever) pulling freakin’ Wildebeests into the water and this guy wants me to feel comfortable tromping around in the swamp with alligators and pythons??!!  Nope. Nope. Nope. 

The decision was made. I would visit every place he did NOT recommend, for my own safety of course. I was in the park for about a week. The first few days I did ‘safe’ activities. I visited the freshwater bay that merges with the ocean and was gifted the opportunity to see Manatees frolicking in the water. That is, until an alligator popped its head up right under where I was standing and made eye contact with me. (Definitely not interpreting that as a spirit animal moment, but more as a “that red-head looks juicy. Can I take her down and eat her for lunch” moment).

I went bird watching, walked through a pine forest, and spent plenty of time relaxing.  On the last 2 days I decided it would be an absolute waste if I came to the Everglades and didn’t see any alligators. So I headed down to the popular tourist site, the Anhinga Trail (not in the morning, when the gators are out and sunbathing next to the path) and decided to take a stroll. It was a busy afternoon full of tourists on the 4ft wide paved trailed that ran parallel to a river and looped around a pond. The water was surprisingly clear and consisted of a very active ecosystem. I could see largemouth bass and Florida gar actively swimming underneath blooming lily pads. Birds were dive bombing into the water and then swimming underneath to go fishing. Alligators were nestled back in the shade with turtles swimming comfortable around them. It really was a magical little eco system and I’m glad I took the opportunity to witness it. 

Florida Gar

My confidence increased a bit and on my last day I decided to sign up for a ranger-guided canoe trip through the mangroves. There were about 7 or 8 canoes in our group and I was paired up with a retiree named Bob. We made a good pair and navigated successfully in tight spots. Canoeing through the tunnels of mangroves almost seemed surreal. The water was shallow and clear, and the intertwined and curvy roots could easily be seen going down under the soil. The branches rose only 3 or 4ft above the water, creating narrow tunnel like structures. It was quiet and peaceful.  One could very easily get lost if there weren’t markers along the way. Oh, but wait…..we got paired with a brand new ranger and we did get lost….multiple times. But that’s all part of the adventure, right?

At one point in our canoe trip, I became a little apprehensive when we got stuck behind an older couple that was struggling to make a turn down another mangrove tunnel and we heard the low bellow of an alligator. My heart started to pound. The low bellow meant we were in the alligator’s territory and he wasn’t happy about it. The couple in front of us stopped paddling altogether and had started full-on yelling at each other. My imagination started to reel up stories of National Geographic documentaries that I had seen. I’m going to die because this couple from New York won’t stop arguing about whose fault it is that they’re stuck. I may have had a moment where I imagined whacking one, or both of them, with my paddle just to get them to shut up and move. Finally, the wife shouted to her husband, “Fine!! If I’m the problem then I’m just not going to paddle at all!!   Thank you God. The husband successfully navigated through the narrow waterway and we could move away from the bellowing gator. (BTW, the wife started paddling again a few minutes later…and the arguing continued, sigh). 

The arguing couple

As we finished our canoeing expedition and were paddling through a large pond toward the shoreline, our guide yelled out to us, “So if you all look over there you can see Croczilla, the largest crocodile in the park.”

Good thing we were on the other side of the large pond/small lake. Two ladies in the canoe next to ours, twin sisters from Minnesota with wide brim hats covering their fair skin, squealed with delight and exclaimed “Oh boy! Let’s go over and take a closer look.”  What?! Are they crazy? Whatever, it’s their life. If they want to die, it’s their choice. 

Then there was Bob… “Natalie, let’s head over and take a closer look.”

“I’m good Bob. I’ve got a great zoom on my camera. I can take pictures from here.”

Either Bob was deaf, or he didn’t hear the slight fear in my voice. He started paddling over toward Croczilla. No way was I going to help Bob paddle. Nope. Nope. Nope.

Then I heard a downhearted “aww” from the group. Croczilla had swum away. I was not disheartened at all, in fact, I was very relieved and very much ready to paddle toward the shore.

 The great thing about national parks is that there is always a little adventure in store, always something new to learn, to discover, to smile about. I had no idea that I was so scared of alligators, with no thanks to the man at the visitor’s center, but I’m glad I confronted that fear and had the small little adventures that I did.

ARKANSAS, TENNESSEE and KENTUCKY

ARKANSAS

When I told friends that I wanted to visit Arkansas on my road trip, I generally got a response “But why?!” accompanied with a scrunched up face of confusion.  Not only was a co-worker of mine from Arkansas and spoke of how beautiful it was, but the state also has a national park that I wanted to visit and check off my list. Another reason to visit was a desire to finally see and explore the Ozark Mountains. As a child, one of my favorite books, and movies, was Where the Red Fern Grows. I had formed in my imagination that the Ozarks was this wild, treacherous and untamed place that the young main character so bravely explored, fighting off mountain lions and battling near-debilitating weather…..and I wanted to explore it also. I just never imagined that part of my adventure would include my own small terrifying experience.

Before heading up north to the Ozarks, I first stopped at Hot Springs National Park. The park was initially set aside as the first federal land reservation in 1832 by President Andrew Jackson, essentially becoming the unofficial first national park in the U.S. It was officially made into a national park in 1921. In the late 1800’s and early 1900’s multiple bath houses were established and the area soon became an upscale spa city in the rough frontier and continues to attract over a million visitors a year. An interesting fact that the park ranger shared with me was that in exchange for protecting the area as a national park, Congress insisted that the water from the park must be donated to the residents and visitors of the city for free to prevent capitalization of a basic right. As such, public water stations are established all over the town for anyone to use as drinking water. Every water station I passed was packed with people filling up their water containers. Of course, I did the same and filled up my water jugs. And, as expected, the spring water was clear and crisp.

Hot Spring. Hard to see the steam rising up.

The park itself is relatively small but aims to protect and keep clean the hot springs as well as protect the public from themselves…..because you know some idiot will attempt to climb into 143 degree water thinking they will be just fine. There are a few beautiful hot spring fountains around town, steaming with the clear clean water and every tourist that approaches has to stick a finger in to test the temperature (Yes, I did it too. Yes, it was hot).  All other springs are sealed off to essentially protect the water source. Otherwise, the little town is a cutesy and quaint with lots of little bohemian shops and easily walk-able. The day I arrived the weather was sunny and 70 degrees. Hallelujah!! The downtown is surrounded by hills with some easy and moderate hikes. I went on a few small walks around the springs and then a longer hike on the opposite side of town. After a hiking a couple miles, I reached the top of the hill, with a beautiful overlook of the town and surrounding beautiful hilly area. If it was this beautiful in the winter, I can’t image how beautiful it is during the other seasons. The spot was too peaceful and scenic to just pass by, so sat down on a nearby bench and just soaked up the sunshine. I ended up sitting there for a good 45 min. My mind filled with gratitude for just about everything in my life from nature, to the “good” and “bad” experiences I’ve had, for people who have crossed my path and my own growth. My mind played like a slide show of happy and sad memories throughout my life, but I didn’t dismiss any of them. I breathed in deeply the nature surrounding me and just sat with my emotions as they meandered through the sulci of my mind. I allowed myself to be in the moment with my thoughts, and one memory or feeling would trigger another, from feelings of joy and gratitude to sadness and pain (with a few tears) but also relief, gladness and peace. When I was done “feeling” I sauntered back down the path, a little lighter on my feet and was again grateful for the perfect weather and sunshine.

The visitor center was located in an old bath house

The next morning I headed up to Ozark National Forest. It took several hours to drive there simply due to the landscape being very hilly and the roads narrow and winding. The area of the national forest that I visited was only staffed Wednesday through Sunday. I was there on a Tuesday. I passed a few cars driving through, but otherwise the forest and campground were empty. I found a nice footpath along a mossy stream and followed it for a couple miles. Later, I explored another 4 mile hike through the woods.  It was peaceful and quiet and for some reason I felt uneasy at being completely and utterly alone. This doesn’t happen to me very often and I don’t like that feeling. I tried to dismiss it. As the sun started to go down, I drove down the long and windy road to the campground, nestled in a quiet and picturesque ravine with a shallow river running through it. The road crossing into the campground was level with the river and I drove through about an inch of water flowing over the top of it.  Bright yellow signs were posted throughout the camp warning of flash flooding when raining and advised campers to stay at their own risk.  I knew rain was in the forecast, but it has only been sprinkling on/off and I wasn’t terribly worried. I picked a place to park my car higher up on in the campground, just in case. As I fell asleep, the rain was lightly coming down and soon fell asleep. However, in the middle of the night the rain grew heavier. I started to get worried and thought about the flash flooding, but then I rationalized that the rain wasn't THAT bad. But around 3 am, the rain started to come down so hard it sounded like hail. The intensity put me on edge, but I kept telling myself I was safe. I had parked higher up in the campsite so therefore, I wasn’t going to be swept away by a flood. The other, more level-headed side of me, reminded me that flash floods have that name for a reason. I was in a narrow ravine and the only way out was driving through that river that was sure to be much higher than an inch by now. Then terror started to rise in me as I realized that I had absolutely no cell phone service and not a single soul knew I was there. If a flash flood rushed through the ravine, and something happened to me, not one person on earth would know about it. The two sides of my brain kept presenting their arguments: I was over-reacting and needed to stay calm; Or, I could be in danger for very legitimate reasons and my worries about all the “what if” scenarios were justified. An hour later, at 4 am, the rain was still coming down in thunderous torrents. My anxiety turned into fear that even if there wasn’t a flash flood, what if the river rose so high that I couldn’t get out in the morning. It was supposed to rain all the next day as well. The decision was made. I decided to leave and not risk any “what if” scenarios. Better safe than sorry.

Fresh water spring in the Ozarks

I climbed from the back of my car, between the front seats, to the driver seat.  I turned the car on and the lights seemed to barely shine through the intensity of the darkness. It was so dark I couldn’t see the river and how high it had become. I started to shiver; I was cold. My car read the outside temperature at 30 degrees and I turned the heat all the way up and waited for the windows to defrost. As I approached the stream, I guesstimated that the creek was a good 8-10 inches high now, still passable, thank God. I drove out of the ravine, up through the winding roads of the mountain, the darkness still engulfing me, but filled with a sense of relief that I was now out of danger and safe. I thought multiple times about pulling off and going back to sleep, but I was too awake and alert. The rain was also still coming down heavily, and loudly, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. I decided to head to my next destination two-and-a-half hours away, Petit Jean State Park.

By the time I arrived at Petit Jean State Park, a recommendation from my co-worker, I was exhausted. I pulled into the visitor center parking lot around 7:30 am and decided to take a nap until the visitor center opened. Two hours later I woke up. It was still raining, but significantly lighter. Rain was in the forecast for the next couple of days with a chance of sunshine after a few days. I decided to get a campsite for 2 nights with the hope that I’d get an opportunity to explore. It then rained and thundered the next two days. The morning of the third day the rain had finally let up and there was sunshine. YAY! I stepped outside my car and brrrrrr, it was 15 degrees. I was not expecting it to be that cold. The weather forecast predicted 30 degrees and there is a really big difference between 15 and 30 degrees. Thirty degrees is like, “Oooh, it’s really cold, I should bundle up.” Fifteen degrees (to me) is like, “OH @#$% its cold, imma going back inside and coming back out in the summer time!”  However, since I haven’t had too many sunny days on my trip I couldn’t chicken out due to some cold weather.  I decided to wait until late morning to go on a hike, with the hope of the weather maybe warming up to 30 degrees. Around 11 am, the temp had increased to 20. I was tired of waiting. Tired of being in my car for two days.  I had plenty of warm winter clothes, so I decided to bundle up and head out. I am so glad I did!

 I chose to go on a 4 mile hike along a tumbling stream (which turned into a 6 mile hike because I accidentally took the wrong fork in the trail). The cliff sides were lined with frozen moss, frosted into green lace doilies. Frozen mud stood up from the path like ant-sized stalagmites, and icicles of every size adorned the rocky landscape. I felt like I was in a frozen fairy land (spare me Disney's Frozen  references). What a pleasant surprise! I thoroughly enjoyed that peaceful magical morning.

TENNESSEE

After Arkansas I headed onto Tennessee, with a quick stop in Memphis and then onto Nashville. As I drove over the Hernando de Soto Bridge into Memphis, which crosses the beautiful Mississippi River, I had to stop and watch the sunset. An orange glow reflecting on the river and the twinkling lights of the city starting to flicker on for the evening. I later took a little walk down famous Beale Street, with the flashing lights, music and clubs but nothing enticed me in.

Sunset at Hernando de Soto Bridge

In the morning I headed to Nashville. A good friend of mine from my childhood now lives there and offered me a place to stay. We had assessed that we hadn’t seen each other since her wedding 8 years ago, so we spent a couple hours getting caught up on the last decade of our lives. It’s interesting to reflect how much we all change and grow throughout life.  When I think of all the changes that have happened to me in a single decade, let alone my entire life, I now realize why it’s probably not a good idea to know our future. There is no way I would have believed all that has happened in my life, nor would I have accepted it 10 years ago.

Nashville is the Hollywood of Country Music and it showed. My friend and I headed downtown for the evening to Broadway Street where there are a million bars, dives, dance halls and tourist shops.  We heard everything from Bluegrass, Rock, Country, Country Rock, old-time Country, and plenty of Cover bands. The energy was electric and everyone was having a good time, including us. Each performer was hoping to catch their next big break and get discovered. There was a plethora of talent and I can’t imagine the effort and perseverance it takes to make the “Big Time.”

My friend also gave me the grand tour of the suburbs of Nashville. It was CLASSY!  The homes were big, some ostentatious, but not out of place or screaming “Look at me!” The lawns were large, well-manicured and one could tell the community took great pride in its appearance. The homes reminded me of the southern charm, class and strength of the country music stars Dolly Pardon, Carey Underwood, and Kacey Musgraves. All classy southern woman in the way they dress, speak and act.  I’m not saying every country star presents this way, and that they don’t all have their scandals. I’m just saying that the homes, neighborhoods and general community seem to reflect the general southern classiness and pride in appearance. Overall, my short time in Nashville was a pleasant time and a place I’d be happy to visit again.

KENTUCKY

I mostly wanted to make a trip up to Kentucky to visit Mammoth Cave National Park. I think it would be fun to go to a horse race one day, or visit some stables, since learning to ride a horse is on my bucket list. I think they are magnificent animals! There are also a few other historic and touristy things that seem interesting, but due to poor weather, I decided to keep my trip simple and short and perhaps one day I’ll return and explore a bit more.

Mammoth Caves was named because it is the longest and largest cave system on Earth (at least that has been discovered and mapped). This  natural wonder has over 400 miles of tunnels and caverns, 365 miles of which have been explored and mapped. I’ve been on several cave tours across the U.S. and all are unique and some really are spectacular, but Mammoth Cave is definitely my favorite.  It helped that our tour guide had a thick country drawl and had the talent of animated story telling.

The cave has a long history of humans exploring it, although the Native American history with the cave is ambiguous. The cave has had a multitude of different explorers and enthusiasts from the early 1800's and on, with young men attempting to be guides, making money by charging tourists a small price to take them down under the earth. But in 1838, a teenager named Stephen Bishop, a slave at the time, was asked to be the primary guide and explore the cave more thoroughly and also take the tourists and scientists through the cave. He performed this duty with showmanship and curiosity for the duration of his life, and is known for the most prominent discoveries in the cave. He received his freedom one year before his death, at the age of 37.

Historical anecdotes are always fun to hear about, such as finding out that church was sometimes held in one of the caverns during the summer months, due to the cool climate in the cave. Also, names of tourists from the late 1800's and early 1900's are still seen on the cave walls and ceilings. Apparently this is how some of the enslaved tour guides made a little money, by charging a fee for etching or using smoke to spell the names of these tourists.  It is also how some believe that Stephen Bishop learned his letters to read and write. On our tour, we also walked along a fresh water river running through it with multiple small waterfalls, which at times, plummeted so far down I couldn't see or hear the water hit the bottom. The cave also has very few stalagmites or stalactites, which I have seen in all other caves I’ve toured. Apparently the ground level above is protected by a thick layer of stone and water is unable to leak slowly through to create the structures.

Entrance to Mammoth Cave

As we exited the cave, I was reminded of the rainy weather following me on my trip. Mammoth Cave National Park is unique in that it is not just a cave but also the land above it is set aside as part of the park and has numerous walking and biking trails to explore. I was kind of bummed that the weather was rainy, cold and dreary, and I supposed I could have walked some paths in the rain, but my exploring and adventurous spirit isn’t always “on.” Perhaps someday I’ll return, when the sun is shining.

Stillness Of The Desert

As I left California, with the rain and cold weather still in the forecast, and the government shutdown still torturing me, I decided to head to Death Valley National Park. It was supposed to rain on and off with temps in the 50's. Due to private donors, most of the park was open and the campgrounds were free since the park was not allowed to charge fees. As I entered the park, I was stunned by the prehistoric looking mountains, as if an ancient lounge of giant sea lizards had climbed up out of the Pacific Ocean and decided to take a nap and never woke up. The colors of the layered sediment reminded me of layered sand art that so many of us made as children, with oranges, grays, purplish-blues, varying hues of browns. The aged sediment pressed down and down until it looked like a painted mountain, sloping down into the desert floor. The sand dunes also appeared magical. As I passed by, the overcast lighting from the sky made the caramel colored dunes appear as silk sheets with the illusion of waves gently cascading and falling

The drive down into the park was also a highlight. Highways 190 starts at the top of the mountain at 5,000 feet  and then goes down and down and down, with gentle ups, like a kiddie roller coaster, in one straight shot to the bottom of the desert floor at 200 feet below sea level. There was not another car on the road for the entire drive down. It’s was a  total thrill for me to drive fast and I just let my car coast, at 85 mph, riding the middle of the road, up and down, up and down, with butterflies in my stomach and having a blast.

Unfortunately, I was unable to enjoy the park.  It started raining the evening I got there and then the next day was 45 degrees with a mix a rain, strong wind and a few snow flurries.  I was in no mood to explore in that weather. And of course, the weather forecast showed no indication of sunny skies over the next week so I decided to move along and head to the Grand Canyon. There was hope of sunny skies there.

When I arrived at the Grand Canyon, which was open despite the government shut down, it was 45 degrees, sunny, no wind or rain and about 8 inches of snow on the ground. It was very busy and seemed as if every ethnicity and language had gathered at this national site. There were Indian women in Sari’s, teenagers in shorts and t-shirts, the granola hikers decked out in the name brand essential hiking gear with their man buns. There were tourists that looked like they had driven from Aspen, Colorado with their fancy, faux fur lined boots and coats as well as some foreign tourists in flip flops and jackets, shivering while trying to take the quintessential Grand Canyon photo. Many of the hiking trails were closed off due to snow and the risk of safety issues. Since one of the only trails open was the South Rim, a paved trail, I decided I’d walk that for a while. The trail was active with all the tourists sightseeing. Generally I get annoyed when there is too much of a crowd and I can’t enjoy the scenery, but I enjoyed watching all these people experience snow.  For instance, 3 middle aged Indian women, all dressed in Sari’s, building a small snowman and throwing snowballs at each other, and laughing like school girls. There was a Latino family having a snowball fight. A mother-daughter duo that kept arguing about how cold it actually was and how far they wanted to walk. There were two older women who kept attempting a selfie but kept falling down on top of each other in the icy snow (I stepped into helpJ I know the difficulties of taking a selfie). I continued people-watching as I sauntered along the path, breathing the crisp fresh air, and stopping now and then to admire the grand scenery. There were moments of quiet, away from the crowds, sitting on a ledge here and there and just taking in how massive and still this place was.

The next day predicted rain and possibly snow.  I decided I’d wake up early the next morning to head out before the weather became too bad.  As I left the park around 8 am, the blizzard started.  The 3^rd snowstorm of my trip. I drove for about an hour in the snow before I needed to stop and get gas. The other two national parks in Arizona were still closed (Petrified Forest and Saguaro) and some fellow travelers recommended I head to Tuscan where the temperature was sunny and 60 degrees. That sounded heavenly!! So I headed out from the snow storm, which then later became a sand storm with the high winds persisting as I drove through the desert. The wind was so strong that I was holding onto the steering wheel with white-knuckles trying to keep my car in the lane. I eventually reached Tucson and decided to stay a couple nights at Catalina State Park.

The park was breathtaking. The campground was green with varieties of cacti ranging from Saguaro, prickly pear, fishhook barrel, staghorn cholla, teddy bear cholla and so many more. Several plants were flowering and those bits of color popped against the green and brown background. The mountains behind the campground were tall, jagged and gray, but felt protective of the desert it covered. Unfortunately, I contracted a nasty head and chest cold and my energy was pretty low to enjoy it all. My last day there I did manage a 4 mile easy hike/walk. The stillness was calming. I was the only one on the path, and if it wasn’t for the prickly cacti everywhere, I would have enjoyed just laying down and sunbathing in the stillness of that landscape.

I have vivid memories and feelings of stillness and “being” when in the desert. Once was in Wadi Rum, a large desert in the country of Jordan (mentioned in a previous blog post) of how I was just still while riding through the desert. Another time of sitting atop the arid Arabian Mountains. And another memory of driving down a random dirt road in southeastern Utah and coming to the edge of a canyon. I remember sitting there while I watched the sun go down, without another soul around. I didn’t experience any inspirational thoughts or insights, but that moment felt profound and still and immense and beautiful and sacred, but for no particular reason other than I was witnessing a breath taking moment on this lovely Earth.

I’ve noticed that my energy feels different in different landscapes.  When I’m by the ocean, my body feels a restless energy and it’s difficult for me to relax, oddly enough, since the beach is a place most people think of when imaging a relaxing time. When I’m in the mountains or walking among trees, I feel a positive, calming, grounding but also driving energy.  When I’m in the desert, I feel still. That’s all. I don’t feel rushed, or think about the past, or the future or even the now. I don’t feel at battle with my ego, or wounds, or self-esteem, or hunger or sleep. My soul is just “being” in the stillness. Stillness is a verb, an action word. In our everyday lives, it actually takes effort to be still, to put down our phones, our “to-do” lists, to turn off the tablet or TV, to let our minds rest. I am a restless soul with a restless mind. It takes a tremendous amount of effort or external distractions to shut off my mind.  Yet, when I’m in the desert, there is no effort to be still, it just happens. There is a calmness, a profound peace, an almost spiritual experience when I walk in the quietness.  It’s as if Mother Earth is telling me to slow down, that it takes time and patience to grow and carve a beautiful existence, so just be still and let it be.

Walking through this Arizona desert landscape didn’t offer any profound revelations, but I was reminded of the stillness. It is easy to always rush onto the next thing. Why is that?  If stillness is so sweet and good for the soul, why do we prioritize “doing” over stillness. Obviously, we all have obligations to jobs, family and maintaining our material needs, but perhaps moments of stillness can help us reconnect with our soul, our divine, in order to help us learn and appreciate the beauty among all the chaos.  

Catalina Island, A Perfect Day

My ambition of being able to visit all the national parks in the lower 48 states while on my road trip, was definitely not going to happen.  The rain was one reason and the government shutdown was the other. After visiting Big Sur and driving the coast, I was hoping the parks would open back up. I wanted to visit Channel Islands National Park, but it was completely closed. The closest thing would be Catalina Island to the south. 

I didn’t know much about Catalina Island, but saw some great pictures online and decided I wanted to go for a day trip. The weather forecast was 45 degrees and overcast and the ferry ticket was a bit expensive, but I’m on vacation and splurging every now and again is fun (self-care, right?). When I arrived on the island I was immediately drawn to all the different colored houses, the engaging beach front shops and restaurants, how mountainous the island was, and lastly, a little surprised by how small the only city of Catalina Island was, Avalon. I wandered around a while, talked with the woman at the visitor’s center and decided I wanted to go for a bike ride. The weather had warmed up to 50 degrees, but I was dressed warmly so I felt a bike ride would be ok. I called the bike shop that advertised an all downhill 10 mile bike ride, starting from the top of the island down to the cove, where the resort town was. A man named Randy answered the phone and said that no one else had booked a bike ride for the day and he usually waits for a group of people to make it worth his while, since it’s a 30 min drive to get to the top of the island. But then he said he had nothing else going on and “why not.” So about an hour later, Randy had gotten everything arranged and was driving me up the winding road to the top of the island.  It was so beautiful!

Randy had grown up on the island, had moved away during his young adult years and then moved back with his wife.  He was an incredibly friendly, knowledgeable, interesting and engaging story teller. While on the drive up, he shared all sorts of facts about the island, the environment, anecdotes, stories about the residents and how he acted as one of the island rangers, keeping it clean and damage free from tourists and campers. When we reached the top, he dropped me off and waved good luck and good bye, “see you in a couple hours!” 

Randy was so engaging on the ride up that I neglected to pay attention to how bumpy and riddled with potholes the road was.  The first 4 miles down was a dirt road with millions (that is not an over-exaggeration!!) of tiny potholes, making for a very uncomfortable ride. I enjoy bike riding but for my personal bike I had actually purchased a more cushioned seat and I was not used to a hard, flat and generic bike seat. Oh my bum!! You would think that with all the adipose tissue on my back side it would be an asset, but no. Apparently my sensitive nature comes with a sensitive bum. After about 2-3 miles of endless bumpiness, my bum was begging me to stop. I should mention that I also neglected to notice on the drive up, all the hills we went up and down along the way. There were 4-5 miles of up and down, up and down, up and down.  I was able to successfully pedal through the first 2 miles, but due to a combination of being out of shape and my sore bum, I eventually had to get off my bike and walk on the uphills. On the downhills, I would stand up and coast and give my bum some welcome relief. But the amazing views were all worth it. The sun had come out and it was starting to warm up. The island was so green and the ocean so blue and it was just stunning! 

After coasting down a hill and approaching another uphill, I decided to try to pedal as fast as I could to gain some momentum to try to make it up without getting off my bike.  As I was approaching the hill, I slammed on my brakes as I saw 2 bison in the roadway.  Randy had mentioned there were buffalo on the island, but he never mentioned what to do if I came across them. I immediately turned around and pedaled about 200 ft back down the road.  Both of the bison were leisurely grazing, one of each side of the road, with no sign of moving on.  So I waited, and waited and then I saw a truck come up the road. I waved. The guy waved back and kept driving by. “Really dude?!”  I let out a sigh of frustration but soon another 2 trucks were coming up the road. With a little hope rising up, I tried waving both of them down, but they both just continued on by. I was tempted to call Randy for advice, but then a red SUV was driving up the road and I was determined to flag this one down.  However, the vehicle stopped right next to one of the buffalo. They rolled down the window and a medium size dog stuck its head out the window and started barking at the large beast. The buffalo lifted its gigantic head toward the vehicle and started pawing the ground. Uh oh. Here we go. I’m going to witness a wildlife encounter, the one’s you see pop up on you-tube videos and you wonder where common sense is. The people in the car were at least smart enough to back up and then drive to make a wide berth to drive around the animal. As the  car approached me, it stopped and the guy asked if I wanted a ride.  Yes!! He lifted my bike onto the top of the car and then moved the dog from the passenger seat and I climbed in. In the back seat were crammed 3 adult women and 3 children. I was wondering how the dog had had claim to the front seat while all of them were smooshed in the back? The man held the dog on his lap and we had to drive slowly so that my bike wouldn’t slide off while driving on the very bumpy road.  As we passed the buffalo, the windows were still down and the dog started yapping again. The buffalo looked up. A sarcastic but very sincere prayer went through my head, “Please God, this is a beautiful island, but I really don’t feel like dying right now. Like, you have some really beautiful animals but I don’t feel like being mauled to death. Can you please make the dog shut up?!”  The dog didn’t shut up, but the buffalo also didn’t react this time around and we got safely past. The man was kind enough to even drive me all the up to the top of the next hill. I thanked him and gently suggested he roll up the windows for safety so that the dog doesn’t provoke the buffalo. He laughed and said, “yeah, maybe.”

The next mile continued to be bumpy and I did a lot of walking because my hiney was not happy.  But the last 5 miles were awesome!  All downhill, wind in my face, sunshine shining down on me and hardly any cars on the road.  I stopped a few times to take pictures and just to take in the scenery. This is what I initially imagined when I booked the excursion, and my soul was glowing (so was my bum, just more of an achy kind).

As I reached the town of Avalon, I called Randy to ask where to drop off my bike. He was at a nearby pub having a drink and avoiding his to-do list. I ended up joining him at the bar for a drink. Sitting next to Randy was a young man spouting stats about football and then to the side of me was an older couple from Boston. We spent the next two hours sharing conversations, stories and each other’s company. It was pleasant and a perfect way to end the day.  And I have to say, I had ordered some oysters that were about the best I’ve ever had (from Gig Harbor, WA). They were so fresh as well as big and plump that I was tempted to ask for a knife to cut them.

At the end of those two hours, I had to say my goodbyes so that I could catch the ferry back to the mainland. The sun was starting to go down and a yellowy-orangish aura surrounded the cove, similar to the glow I was feeling earlier. And so I sat there in the chilly evening, sipping on some hot tea, happy and wanting to hold on the feeling of the perfect day I had just had.

Big Sur, The Pacific Coast and Spirit Animals

Have you ever read a book that just spoke to you? Like, the whole time you’re just saying, “Yep. Amen sister!  Yes, I’m totally feelin’ it.”  That’s how it was when I read Anatomy of a Calling a few years ago (I’m currently re-reading it). The author, Lissa Ranck, is an OB/GYN who became frustrated with the current health care system and felt she had lost touch with her true calling to really connect and help others heal. In the book, Lissa refers multiple times to how Big Sur was a place of spiritual awakenings, that it had this amazing energy that she felt flowed through her and helped realize her divine potential.  “Hmm….” I thought, “I totally want me some of that spiritual awakening and divine potential stuff!”

I knew that as I was leaving on my road trip that Big Sur was going to be one of my stops. I was a bit disappointed that the forecast was rain, rain and more rain.  There was one day where the rain did let up and I jumped on the opportunity. I went to some of the places Lissa Ranck had described in her book. I was surrounded by so much beautiful scenery, but no special feeling arose. No divine spiritual experiences. “Ok, well, maybe later” I told myself, a bit disappointed.  I decided to go for a 4 mile hike, round-trip, to a lookout point over the ocean. The beginning of the walk was so beautiful. Tall redwoods, ferns, colorful plants popping out among the foliage, a bluebird flying back and forth among the bushes. And then the hike turned to switchbacks. The sweat started pouring down my forehead, my heart rate increased to about 400bpm and my breathing became a bit more labored and I was developing a side-ache, like when you try to go for a jog after eating a big plate of nachos (because I’ve definitely never done that before). It was overcast, humid and I was out of shape. Then the conversation started in my head,” How is this so hard for me? I’ve done much harder hikes than this!” My blunt inner voice responded, similar to Jillian Michaels during Biggest Loser, “Are you kidding me?!  When was the last time you worked out? In fact, when was the last time you were actually ‘in shape’?”  I grumbled back, “Ok, ok!  You’ve got a point. No need to rub it in.”  It didn’t help that young 20-somethings were bouncing up the hill with peppy smiles on their faces and not one sign that the switchbacks were any sort of challenge. I finally arrived at the top. The view was beautiful. The stillness was even more beautiful.

The rest of the day I spent relaxing and recovering from the surprisingly difficult hike.  I was so disappointed with myself that I was determined to go for a longer hike the next day, just to prove I could do it.  So I did an 8 mile hike the next day in the wind and rain, because “damn those 20 year olds!!”  I did it, the 8 miles. I returned exhausted and soaked, but proud of myself, and then went straight to the hot showers. Beautiful hot showers!! 

So after those 2 days of hiking in Big Sur, without any divine spiritual experiences, epiphanies or deep insights, I left a little disappointed and decided to drive down the coast. If you have never driven down highway 1 in California, put it on your bucket list. It’s so beautiful!  I’ve done it a few times now and have enjoyed it every time. Anyway, after driving for a bit, I decided to park my car by a beautiful spot just south of Pismo Beach in central California. It was mid-morning and I opened up Anatomy of a Calling to continue reading. As I was sitting there in my car, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw a coyote trotting down the road. Mind you, I’m parked in front of multi-million dollar coastal/beach homes. There are rolling hills nearby, but I thought it was an odd occurrence.  About an hour later I saw a small wild boar casually trotting down the opposite direction than the coyote had come. It was stopping along the way, sniffing here and there and eventually was gone.  So strange!  Of course, I don’t live along the coast so I don’t know if it’s a common thing to have wild animals roam the neighborhoods, but it sure was some nice sightseeing.

Time passed, the rain was still coming down and my attention span was waning because I wanted to be outside. My mind started wandering and a humorous thought popped into my head, “Maybe those are my spirit animals.” Over the past 2 to 3 years I have taken an interest in Native American beliefs. I am open to learning truths from all belief systems, but I’ve been particularly drawn to Native American spiritualism and the belief that we’re all connected to the earth, plants, animals, rocks, sun, moon and even those loved ones who have passed. A year or two ago, after a deeply spiritual experience with a patient of mine who was Native American, he explained spirit animals to me. I wasn’t sure it was something that I felt a connection to, but I understood the concept. Since that time, I’ve pondered and read up on spirit animals. So when the coyote and wild boar passed by me randomly, with no other humans around, my mind became curious about the thought of these being potential spirit animals.  Of course, I had to look up the meaning of both.

Coyote: When this animal appears in your life, it’s time to find humor/playfulness amid or through the dark times, seek after and ponder hidden wisdom/meaning in chaos, time to become adaptable and create something new.

Wild Boar: This animal symbolizes tenacity, stability, determination to go after what is most important to you/creating your own reality, using intelligence to gain abundance (not necessarily financial abundance, but that would be nice!), and the courage and ability to use ingenuity to weather the storm.

Hmmm…..interesting.  I suppose any person could take any spirit animal meaning and use it to apply meaning to their life. But also, isn’t that what spiritualism is? In any religion or spiritual belief, don’t believers use the experiences around them to interpret meaning for their life? Every spiritual experience, where or when it happens and what it feels like, is unique to each person. A person may feel peace and calm in their home, or temple, or nature, or with loved ones, or being with their pet. I have had deep spiritual experiences in nature, with dreams, while driving in my car listening to music, during conversations with people I’ve just met and also with those I’ve developed close relationships with. I had a life-altering spiritual experience during a massage once and when I later told the therapist, she said she felt the need to pray over me during the massage. Spiritual experiences can happen anywhere and meaning applied to most anything.

It was foolish of me to assume that just because an author I admired had several spiritual experiences in Big Sur that I would also have an intense spiritual experience there as well. I should know better. But we all crave to FEEL something special. That’s why throngs of people gather in holy places each week or each year. That works for many people and that’s ok. For me, following my intuition, being open to different experiences and giving myself the freedom to FEEL without shame or embarrassment, as well as learning to be in tune to those around me is what makes me feel the most spiritual. And of course, there are always those sweet surprise moments when the universe gives you something special unexpectedly. 

 Perhaps the coyote and wild boar are my spirit animals, perhaps not. But I can still apply the meaning of the spirit animals by using humor, looking for wisdom, being determined, mustering up courage, using my intelligence and being adaptable to create a really fantastic future.

Betty and Dennis

On day of 2 of my trip I got stuck in another snow storm while attempting to head out to the coast.  I had driven from Redding, CA and had gotten to a little town of Weaverville before the snow became so heavy that the pass continuing to the coast, and also back to Redding, had been closed to any vehicles without chains. I was stuck. Since it was only 10 am, and I didn’t feel like letting my car run all day so I could stay warm, I decided to stay at little quaint motel nearby. The motel was run by a 77 year old woman named Patty that prided herself on being a staunch manager for over 20 years…..”to keep the meth-heads out.” We chatted for a while because she had fallen the day before and was now using a walker to get around because her hip was so painful. Being the therapist I am, and my love for the geriatric population, I had to ask all the necessary questions to make sure she was ok. I wanted to stay and chat with her for a while longer because she looked like a woman who had quite a story to tell about her life. But since I was a stranger, and wanted to respect her privacy, I restrained myself.

After a nice relaxing day at the motel, the next morning I decided to head back to Redding instead of continue on to the coast since mudslides had been reported on highway 1. As I approached Redding, the rain had let up. Yay!  It was still a chilly 45 degree overcast day, but I decided to visit the Sundial Bridge, an iconic city landmark.  It is a unique and cool bridge with a beautiful view of the snow capped mountains. It felt so good just to move and walk around after being cooped up driving or in motel rooms. I enjoyed walking the paved mile loop on the other side of the bridge at a leisurely pace, just taking in the scenery and letting my mind wander.

As I finished walking the loop and was approaching the bridge, I noticed a couple a little ways off. The woman was in a wheelchair, wearing a pink snow hat, a blanket on her lap and smoking a cigarette. The man was standing beside her, bearded, curly hair peeking out from under his snow cap, shorter than average, and wearing a long black trench coat. I felt uncomfortable. Why did this scene make me feel so uncomfortable? I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was it because I had been working in a mental health facility the past year where a good number of my patients resembled this couple and were also drug addicts and homeless? I don’t know. But in a brief moment, and from a distant observation, I had made an assumption about these people.

As I passed them, the lady called out to me, “Hey, why’d they build this bridge?” still looking out over the bridge with her back against me

I stopped, “Are you asking ME?’

“Yeah, I’m asking you!” she responded in a raspy voice followed by a breathy chuckle.

As I came around to face her, I saw it was an elderly woman with a big grin. Her warmth and smile automatically softened my heart and my assumptions and judgement immediately embarrassed me.

“Hmmm, I think they built it just for you to see this view” I smiled back.

She rolled her eyes and half-laughed.  The man standing next to her also laughed.

I continued, “I’m not from here so I don’t know the history of it all.  I assume they built it because they want to attract more tourists and just get people outside and into nature more.”

The man spoke, “We’re not from here either. We’re from Alabama. Where are you from?”

And so started a very pleasant 20 min conversation. I came to find out that the couple were mother and son. Betty and Dennis. Betty recently had a stroke, 4 months ago. She’d been through rehab and then had been living at home alone in Alabama, with a lot of difficulty.  According to her, she was managing fine at home but her family felt otherwise. Betty felt her family forced her to move out to California so they could keep an eye on her.  But you could also tell she knew she needed the help and it caused her sorrow.  I shared that I was a therapist as well worked with patients just like her. Because my “therapist” self is always turned on, I started asking all sorts of recovery and caregiving questions. She showed me how she could now move her right foot now and could walk very slowly and awkwardly with the help of a cane (her son shaking his head in the background, as if to communicate that he felt otherwise).  I then noticed her right edemous hand limply lying beside her lap with the palm turned up at an unnatural angle. Betty reported, almost becoming tearful, that she never regained the use of her right arm or hand. She was discouraged. As I tell all my patients, I would never wish a stroke on anyone.  It’s a cruel disembodiment. Your body is still there, but it is like a foreign object and you no longer have control over it.  A person must go through a grieving process for this body that no longer exists. To grieve for a hand that can no longer automatically reach for the coffee cup, or comb hair or put a button a shirt.  We talked for a while about all this, with the son mentioning his own struggles with managing being a caregiver.   

I felt my own grief for making such a horrible assumption about these sweet people from Alabama. Assumptions about a man in a black trench coach, who was really a caregiver and taking his mother on a nice little outing so that she could just get out of the house.  Feeling total embarrassment and shame for assumptions I had made about this woman in a wheelchair smoking a cigarette, who turned out to be a lovely elderly woman, with a great sense of humor, grieving for her loss of function and now broken body. A woman whose face had sculpted lines of both joy and sadness from all she has had to endure in this life. 

Near the end of our conversation Betty told me she was 73 years old and had survived 8 different cancers, including brain cancer.  How was this woman still alive? 

With a little sarcasm I asked, “So who did you piss off to have all this happen to you?” 

Betty let out a boisterous laugh and replied “I sure don’t know, but I’ve been through it all.” 

Then I added “Maybe you’re just one of the strong ones that can handle anything so God just keeps giving you more because you keep handling it so well.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m still alive” spoken with voice of someone who had conquered so much but also the voice of a person whose body was now failing her.

We chatted a little longer about Alabama and you could tell Betty and Dennis loved their state. They related how nice and hospitable everyone was, how beautiful the countryside was with the rolling hills and landscape of trees and greenery.  Well, Betty and Dennis, thanks for sharing your good nature, your story and your humor. I’ll be sure to take a visit down there to Alabama to check out your beloved state.  And I’m sorry I judged. Please forgive me.

First Night on The Road

FIRST NIGHT ON THE ROAD

When you search on Google, Pintrest or InstaGram the hashtag of #VanLife, up pops images of people in RVs, camper vans, converted cars and SUVs, all posing with enthusiasm with their new home, generally in a beautifully scenic setting. YouTube videos show how incredibly easy it is to whip out your power tools and magically obtain carpentry skills to construct a slick interior design to convert your vehicle into a camper. Interviews with these Van-Lifers reveal how much freedom one has exploring the road with ease and freedom at low cost. Ah, #VanLife!!

So…..Let me tell you a story about my reality with #VanLife. 

I decided I needed to take some time off to recover from the “growing experiences” of 2018 and I started to explore ways I could take an extended amount of time off to travel on my limited budget.  I went to RV shows to see if I could afford a camper trailer, too expensive, even for the tiny, ultralight weight campers. I looked at actually camping around in my tent, but I did that for a week once and it seemed like it’d be a headache in the long run. Then I came across those people who had converted their cars or SUVs into a camper. Some were pretty fancy but some were pretty basic and simple. Hmm, this could work. I felt I could construct something simple for super cheap. I wouldn’t have to deal with setting up a tent or pulling a trailer and I could sleep anywhere in my car.  Cool! The decision was made. Before I started, I got a twin size mattress and slid it in the back of my SUV just to see if it would fit.  It did, and a perfect fit actually!!  I had never constructed anything before and had never used power tools, except for an electric screw driver.  But you can find everything on YouTube, right? Thank goodness I hadn’t cleared out or donated my dad’s tools yet. I watched a lot of tutorials on how to use the tools and how to put stuff together. I had removed the back seats from my SUV and constructed a platform. There was a lot of trial and error. A lot of trips to Home Depot and Lowes. I was surprised, and frustrated, at how long it took to construct something that seemed so simple in my little design. Finally I finished and I was very pleased that I did it all by myself. I had enough room for storage underneath the platform and enough room on top to move around comfortably. 

The next step was deciding what I needed to take with me and what would go in storage.  Let me tell ya, if you haven’t used something for a long time, you’re not going to start magically using it on the road or a trip, as I have found out.  For instance, I have yet to use my yoga mat and bits of work-out stuff I brought along (partly because it has rained almost every day of my trip). Too many clothes, too many washcloths, too many books, too much kitchen stuff. Eventually I’ll consolidate it all once I’m in a consistently warm climate.  

My car was packed up, organized and ready to go. The morning I planned to leave I went to go start my car, all I got was a click click click and the electrical system wigging out. Seriously? What the hell? Ugh!!  At first I thought it was an electrical issues, but my sister-in-law suggested it might be the battery.  It had been cold in Utah and my battery had died.  We attempted to jump it (Thanks for another tutorial YouTube!} but It wouldn’t start.  So, I went and purchased another battery and installed it myself. My car started!! Yay!

I decided to not have any definite plans for my road trip. Sometimes letting the road guide you and not having a fixed or ridged plan can open the door for unexpected adventures. Plus, planning stresses me out. I can do it, it’s just not my favorite thing to do. I did have a rough outline of a travel plan in place. I was going to start in California and explore some places that I might be interested in living, as well as visit some national and state parks.  Well, the forecast said rain for 2 weeks. I was hoping the rain would at least let up a little here and there so I could explore. I would soon find out that rain meant rain.

Because of my late start, I decided I’d only drive for a few hours and spend the night in Elko, NV.  My weather app said it’d be about 15 degrees that night. I had a sleeping bag, several blankets and my mattress was made of foam. In addition, I had insulation for my windows to help keep the heat in and also provide privacy.  I was hoping that was enough.

Driving is therapeutic for me. I relax and just let my mind wander and the drive out to Elko was nice. No traffic and an absolutely beautiful glowing orange sunset.  I took it as a good sign and stopped to watch it for a bit. It was dark when I arrived in Elko. I stopped off to get gas and use the restroom and then drove around a bit, trying to decide where I could safely park my car and have a quiet night. I found a 24 hour Casino next to a hotel. No one would question why my car would be parked there all night and I’d be left alone. So I parked, I put the insulation up in the windows, pulled the curtains shut behind the front seat and opened the passenger seat to climb into the back of my car to sleep. Hmmmm, how was I going to get in? When I constructed the platform in my car and tested it for enough space to move around, it was without a mattress. I had purchased an 8 inch foam mattress and I had a sleeping bag and several blankets.  I now had 1 ft 10in to get in and move around.  So stupid!  Why hadn’t I actually considered this? Well, I didn’t really have a choice but to try it out. It doesn’t help that I’m 5’9 and “big boned.”  So I put a hand on each side of the door opening, a foot up on the step and launched myself into the car, my legs still hanging out, my shoes still on. There was not enough space to kneel or sit so I very awkwardly pulled myself into a fetal position so that I could reach to untie my shoes and then attempted a sideways 90 degree turn so that I could be facing the right direction to straighten out. So there I was, finally lying flat on my back and shaking my head that I hadn’t thought things out more thoroughly. Then the next thought that ran through my mind was “oh crap, I still need to get in my pajamas” followed by a groan and realizing my pajamas were in drawers under the platform and I’d have to get out of the car to access them.  Mind you, its 15 degrees outside!! I curled my body back up and completed another 90 degree turn in a half sitting hunched-over position to get closer to the door. I managed to reach for the door handle and open it up.  I wish I had a video to show me getting out of my car. I was a sight to see. It looked as if my car was giving birth to me. My awkward large size in a tiny space. Imagine a 5’9, 220 lb inflexible woman with frizzy red hair trying to get out of a 1'10" space from a sitting hunched-over position.  Seriously, I challenge you to try this at home! First came a leg, then an arm to support me, then half my butt, then another leg, the other half of my butt and  finally another arm, and head. My car just gave birth to a breech baby, kind of.  Ugh, this sucks!  I got my pajamas, launched myself back into my car, managed to get straightened out and then laid there trying to figure out how to I was going actually get into my pajamas.  I couldn’t sit up. I couldn’t kneel in a full position. My only options were lying flat and trying bridge my hips and back to loosen my clothing, rolling to my side, or getting onto my knees in a bowing position. I assumed all three of those positions to get undressed and then dressed.  What a headache!!  No one ever demonstrated this shit in the Youtube videos!! I was tired and soon fell asleep. 

I actually stayed quite warm though the night, surprisingly enough.  Around 2:30 in the morning I woke up and had to pee.  I looked at the weather app on my phone.  It was 10 degrees outside. Condensation had collected on the inside of my car and my head was getting cold.  I put on my winter hat and then pulled out my female urinal.  Yes, I bought one for just these circumstances (someone did actually recommend this in a blog. Very helpful).  I did try it out before my road trip and it worked wonderfully…..in a sitting position, with lots of leg room. I had not tried it out in a less than 2ft space. Since I couldn’t squat, or sit, or fully kneel, the only position I could manage was the kneeling bow.  I guess all those years of assuming the kneeling bow position (for comfort reasons) while listening to my dad’s endlessly long family prayers finally paid off. So with one hand trying to manage positioning and holding the pee bag, the other arm was out in front supporting me.  I was so tense and so cold that I couldn’t pee. Ugh!  Puppy dogs, unicorns, sunsets, freedom, road trip……finally relaxed enough to go. Relief!! I put the lid on the urinal and set it aside to empty in the morning, climbed back in my bed and slept on/off until about 6:30. I was ready to get up, get warm and have a cup of coffee. My car then awkwardly gave birth to me a second time. Still a breech baby, but it works.

Slushy ice water from 10 degree night in Elko

I quickly got into the front seat, started the car and turned the heat all the way up.  I plugged in my portable water heater to my cars 12V port to heat water for some coffee.  After enjoying a nice warm drink I needed to get dressed, brush my teeth, wash my face…..but it was 10 degrees outside and I really did not want to go through changing my clothes in the back of my car again. I decided I wait until later, when I could go to a rest stop. So that’s what I did, when it finally warmed up to 20 degrees. I don’t like cold weather.

My plan was to head to Redding, CA.  I started driving up through the overwhelmingly beautiful Tahoe National forest. I was raining, then the rained turned to light snowfall. No big deal. As the elevation climbed, the light snow fall turned into a blizzard and the roads became icy. I had my AWD on and my “snow traction” option turned on. But I could still feel my car slide. I wanted to pull off but there were no exits and pulling on the shoulder is a bad idea as anyone can slide off and hit you. I grew up driving in snow and feel I am a safe driver in this kind of weather. There are certain ways to break, to maneuver your car when you slide, and to remember to keep a big gap between you and the car in front of you just in case you do lose control of the car. But these other drivers on the road either had no knowledge of these driving rules or were too impatient.  Cars were tailgating each other and then slamming on their brakes when they got too close, causing the car to slide off the road.  At one point, the traffic had completely stopped because a semi-truck had slid sideways and was blocking the road. So there everyone sat in their cars, for about 40 min, until the truck to be moved off to the side of the road. It took another hour of slowly driving to get off the mountain.

I eventually made it up to Redding, via Sacramento, and it was a downpour of rain, strong gusts of winds. I attempted to explore the Sacramento River, but the weather was miserable. I sat in my car a while and tried to devise a new plan, but the weather forecast held no relief for me. I was just in no mood to sleep in my car that night.  I was tired. I wanted comfort. I slept in a hotel that night. A conversation started in my head “Good job Natalie! You made it one whole night sleeping in your car and now resorting to a hotel room because of rain. Where’s your grit girl?!”  I responded to myself with “Well, it’s not like I’m broke. I’m homeless by choice. I’ve got a few extra bucks. I deserve a little comfort.”  I responded back “Ok, well let’s see how long you can survive on the road over the next few weeks” daring myself to be a more hard core #Vanlifer.

My first 24 hours weren’t terribly exciting in terms of travel, but figuring out how to live in my car was a bigger adventure than I thought and a bit of an unexpected learning curve.  But I’m up for a challenge.