Posts in Category: Our wanderings
Detours: A part of life
Cactus near Kearny, Arizona
The road between Superior and Globe, Arizona, was closed.
It’s kind of symbolic to life, isn’t it.
You make a plan, you encounter a hurdle, you work your way around it.
We took the 60-mile detour through b;oeautiful desert vistas and enjoyed the ride, happy to be on the road again. The extra miles put us near City of Rocks State Park, our destination, just as the sun set.
City of Rocks is one of our favorites, where your campsite is nestled next to volcanic tuff formations, an otherworldly landscape.
We got out our new pan to heat up the peanut-sesame noodles Tom had cooked before leaving home, and, oops, no propane. It seems that when we had some lines repaired, a few months ago, they must have drained the system, which makes sense. But we didn’t remember to refill it.
No worries. The noodles can be eaten cold and were just as delicious.
Tired from the drive, I read only one chapter of The Shadow Catcher, A Novel, by Marianne Wiggins to Tom before my eyes drooped. We snuggled under our newly laundered comforters, luxuriating in the not-100-degree temperatures and drifted off.
I woke early enough to watch the sunrise, unheard of when I’m in sticks and bricks, and listened to an owl hooting for a friend.
At 10, we rolled out our yoga mats next to the rocks and stretched the miles out of our old bones.
Life is good today.
Canada: We love you
Tom and Judy lazing by Okanagan Lake.
Tom and I disagree about whether the Canadian border guard was just being her military self or was kind of, a little bit, angry at us. Was she just being efficient or was she glaring at us because President Trump had threatened to annex her country and now, here we were, wanting to drive The Epic Van across the border and bask in the uberpolite beauty of our northern neighbor.
A wedding like a song
The happy couple: Kalie and Joe.
Kalie and Joe got married on the lawn in Yellow Pine.
If it sounds like a John Cougar Mellencamp song, it kind of was.
Art from the heart
Haley’s cut-paper image of Tom and I in The Epic Van.
As we were leaving my friend Meredith’s house to hit the road, her amazing daughter, Haley, came by with a gift: a small cut-paper representation of Tom and I in The Epic Van, heading out on the road.
Haley, a wonderful artist who works in many mediums, is now mastering this Matisse persona.
In Haley’s beautiful piece, you can see me, with my gray hair and red glasses, Tom, with his hat and sunglasses, The Epic Van herself, the places we go and the things we see: saguaros from our home state, mountains, oceans, pine trees, flowers and the sun. We’re waving and happy.
Worlds, in a tiny square.
I adore it, and I adore Haley.
A rainy day
It rained yesterday.
We sat under The Epic Van’s awning in Red Canyon Campground with a stunning view of sandstone cliffs through tall pine trees and watched it rain.
The morning was sunny and hot. But by midday, clouds gathered. Faraway thunder rumbled. And in the afternoon, it started.
A rough re-entry
Judy and Tom rolling through the desert in The Epic Van.
Sometimes, re-entries to the road are hard.
This one was.
Tom vies for sainthood as we pivot
The Epic Van parked at Wenatchee Lake State Park.
Put another mark under the “saint” column for Tom, who rarely, hardly ever, well, almost never, gets upset with his adorable wife.
But, really, this was a big fuck-up.
Find a road less traveled, but start at the Rooster
The Red Rooster in Saleh, Washington.
If you’re looking for a road less traveled, you could start in Selah, Washington, just north of Yakima.
But first, you should stop at The Red Rooster, where you might find a table of about eight people REALLY enjoying their lunch. Don’t be put off by the cracked linoleum, the off-key shout-singing from the drinks-for-lunch gang, or the guy at the end of the bar with a Trump coozie around his Busch beer can. Just order some pulled pork barbecue, with beans and coleslaw on the side.
Harbor hopping along the West Coast
Our Bodega Bay view.
Tom’s our trip planner, and I usually just climb into the front seat and ask, “Where are we headed.” This time, for our annual drive up Highway 1 along the West Coast, he added a new trick: Harbor hopping.
Nothing better than a beach town
Morro Rock, the neck of a volcano, rises out of the bay.
I love a beach town.
And here, in Morro Bay, California, I’m in heaven.
Maybe it’s because I grew up in Hawaii, where every town is a beach town. Maybe it’s because I’m an old hippie at heart. Maybe it’s because sun and surf are natural de-stressors.
But I can just feel myself sigh when there is a dusting of sand across the road.