Chosen Fugue

L(Oh)w Canada!

We’ve been trying to escape to Canada for a long time but it was like bumping our head against the wall. Now, with restrictions lifted and our vaccination cards full, we slipped in a Canadian vacation between dog sits.

With the van gone, https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2022/05/15/van-gone/ we had to rent a car which was more head bumping. Nothing was available in the Boston or Providence area. We finally found a car in Springfield, MA requiring us to backtrack 2 hours west to begin our journey northeast but since Springfield is kind of in the greater Amherst/Berkshires zone we could return the car to where we would end up after Canada. After waiting 2 hours in the Enterprise parking lot for our car to arrive, we were off. Since we had already hit Maine, etc, it was straight to Canada https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2021/12/13/waits-motel/

The nonsensical world of driving in New England, from car rental to car driving was hard for us to digest. Google maps took us onto dirt roads, through someone’s driveway, anything to shave 30 seconds off our destination arrival time, but we somehow made it to the Canadian border at Calais, Maine. It felt great to be international again, starting with learning the local pronunciations. Unlike the French border town where you catch the ferry to England (pronounced Cal-lay), the American Calais is pronounced Callus (which fits America more). We finally got our foot in the door. Canadian border agents were, of course, amiable despite our American accent and confusing answer to “where do you live” . Crossing took less than a minute, slowed down by us saying “That’s it? We can go? Thank you!”

Our first stop was Saint Andrews a small coastal town, a hidden gem per Canadian travel literature. The number one vacation spot! Where Canadians prefer to go! St. Andrews consisted of a couple blocks of Maine-esque shops, a pier, beautiful lupin fields, lots of plaques on houses and live deer posing as lawn decorations. We think we saw vacationing Canadians there. Most impressive though, is St. Andrew’s travel PR team.

Based on the many lupins and ubiquitous bicycle repair spots, is St Andrew’s the home of BICYCLE REPAIR MAN https://vimeo.com/517809852 and Dennis Moore https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2nrqgb (this is not great video, it is season 3 episode 11) ?

For us, everything about Canada feels slightly askew, in a good way. It’s like wearing your t- shirt on inside out, very comfortable (especially without the tag scratching your neck), it looks almost the same but it’s just noticeably off, but in a pleasant, amusing way. To start, even though we were just north of the eastern tip of Maine, we were now an hour later in AST Atlantic Standard Time Zone. And then there was the radio. We like radio, we loved Canadian radio. So many songs we were sure we might have heard them before, similar but not exactly, … ……. they were Canadian (great titles).

The aspirational goal of our trip was to tour the Bay of Fundy (Family Fundy!). Bay of Fundy is famous for its extremely high tide range, the highest in the world for the range between its lowest and highest tides ( about 52 feet). In some areas the tide goes so low you can walk across the sea floor to nearby islands. The tides also create tidal bores as the high tides rush back in up the rivers. In one 12 hour tidal cycle, the amount of water the flows back in forth in this area is twice the amount of the total combined flow of all the rivers in the world over the same time period. https://www.bayoffundy.com/about/highest-tides/

Who is doing the PR for this natural attractions? Why is this not on everyone’s bucket list? Every day, we imagined the shores would be lined with ecstatic clapping from vacationing plumbers. It was like twice a day seeing what drought Lake Mead looks like now, but without the dead bodies. ( https://www.npr.org/2022/08/08/1116307660/lake-mead-human-remains-fourth-body-swim-beach)

The high tides just look like a lot of water, but we were not there for the highs. Like all of our vacations, we were there for the low points and the bores. (this was not our first bore https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2018/10/12/wonders-man-made-and-natural/ ). We drove along the western coast of the Bay ending up in Moncton at a hotel right next to a bore viewing site, equipped with bleachers (they don’t kid around), we half expected venders selling empty bottles of water. And we weren’t disappointed, we couldn’t have been more pleased to hit rock bottom. Only Canada can make a low point a positive.

Before the bore, the river is pretty empty.

Here comes the bore!

The tidal bore in Moncton comes up the Petitcodiac River (nicknamed the Chocolate River due to its brown color) and like most bores was slow and hard to leave, politely. Bores are graded by intensity on a 1-4 scale and the ones we were seeing were 1-1/2. Nothing more Canadian than a modest bore. We watched it twice, the second time getting up at 6:30 in the morning AST.

We had front row seats from our hotel which was on the edge of the Tidal Bore Park. Not only could we watch the tidal bore, but also the construction which seemed to draw just as many people. If you want to watch the bore, here is the webcam https://www.moncton.ca/webcams/tidal-bore-webcam

From Moncton we drove to Halifax, NS a vibrant college town on the Atlantic Ocean coast. Well we thought it had a college vibe but maybe it was because we stayed 3 nights in a (virtually empty) college dorm at Dalhousie University (great view of the very busy football/soccer fields).

We walked all over Halifax enjoying almost everything. We rarely get take-out food (and never go out to eat) but we felt that we should try Halifax’s famous fried seafood. Very disappointing, lower than the tide. One “seafood” take out, though, did meet our (low) standards.

We wandered through lovely urban streets with beautiful parks, old churches, cemeteries and Farmer’s markets. We walked along the Atlantic coast, from Point Pleasant Park, through the working port and then along the tourist promenade. Another city where we could say, yeah, this is very livable (although not sure about the winter).

Site of the fried seafood fiasco, view of Halifax was good though.

Even stumbled into a Pro-Choice rally, unfortunately, for a very needed community catharsis

We took a day trip south along the coast to Lunenburg, which was suppose to be another cutesy beach town, but it wasn’t. The drive there was beautiful, with the high point seeing a bald eagle.

Maybe the Canadian Tourism PR team could focus on a new message, “Canada is just a good place to go with a lot of good things to see, eat, drink and do, a few great things, but just generally, Canada is good.”

A mellow week in Canada, then we made the long drive back towards Amherst passing areas that we first saw as muddy flats but now were full of blue water, the wonder of the tides. Returned with a nondescript night in Newburyport, MA, very US. Calais America.

Canada we will be back, happily with our shirts inside out.

The Dog Days of Summer

After shedding our van, apartment, and plans to restart our overseas adventures, https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2022/05/15/van-gone/ we decided the least we could do was go visit (bother?) our children and grandchild (she is not bothered).

Travel required digging up some housing. Continued pandemic concerns combined with everyone else’s revenge travel made housing options limited. Without the option of our van, we looked for what we had used in the past for longer term stays; AirBnb and sublets https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2022/02/24/musical-chairs/ . In Amherst, gateway to the Berkshires and home to five colleges, the AirBnB places were either not available or were excessively expensive. We found a few sublets but they required a three month stay or wanted students who would continue into the fall. The only viable sublet came equipped with Play Station 4 and beer pong, but that life style may have killed us (or just made us stronger ?).

But as my (Nick’s) very religious, dyslexic mother, Sister Eileen, always used to say “doG provides”, and so we decided to become Dog Sitters.

Five years ago, we had used Trusted Housesitters for Doe, our labrador when we went to Tel Aviv for our granddaughter’s birth. Our introductory phone conversation with our dogsitter was great, her daughter lived near by, she had many good dog sit reviews. All seemed good until she showed up and was 15 years older than her pictures and had a rather unstable gait due to her pronounced limp. This did not bode well. Six weeks later when we returned, Doe had lost most of her fur from anxiety and lost significant weight despite lack of exercise. The house, though, was very clean as was the garden since she cleaned out a lot of plants thinking they were weeds (they were not).

But we were determined to be great dog/house sitters First we went to Mendocino to Patricia’s sister’s house to visit and practice house sitting.

Next we went to LA to practice dog sitting with our grand-dog Osito.

It felt a little like European travel again, although this time it was with double masks as we took a bus, plane and then Uber (with an interesting driver monologue about a childhood in Cuba), to East Hollywood.

Osito was a great dog sit start. As at previous visits, Osito began by constantly barking at us nipping (okay biting) Nick twice. To add to the level of difficulty Osito had diarrhea the night before Marika and Trevor left (smart dog, did it in the shower). After we took him to the vet, we bonded and Osito decided to tolerate us without barking.

A soft diet, that didn’t include Nick’s ankles, and frequent walks resolved both the diarrhea and Osito’s fear/hatred of us. By the time Marika and Trevor came home he was jumping on the couch to sit with us, but once Marika and Trevor walked in the door, Osito made clear where his loyalties were, and began barking at us again, although with a little less ferocity. Okay, we figured, we had this down.

Red eye to Hartford, CT followed by an Uber ride (this driver’s TED talk was about his childhood in Turkey as related to US politics) to our next sit; a 12 year old border collie mix named Scout in rural Belchertown, MA just outside Amherst, MA.

We got into the routine fairly quickly; pills in the pill pocket twice a day (an experimental use of Tagamet for ocular melanoma) and playing dog chase around the coffee table 20 times a day.

Nightly Hip-Hop concert from the frogs in the next-door mosquito breeding swamp

Scout’s initial enthusiasm gradually transformed into almost rabid protectionism. By the end of the stay, she was leaping at delivery trucks, delivery people and friendly joggers.

Hearing of our new found pet sitting skills, a few others stopped by to inquire. There are limits, though, to our pet-sittings, we generally do not sit bears.

Scout’s high energy required frequent walks; bear-aware, mosquito-swatting and tick-avoiding. Anxiety producing, multiple times, during the day but especially at night when the fireflies kinda looked like animal eyes. Obviously, we were West coast amateurs.

Our next dog-sit was to be more urban, Brookline, MA on the edge of Boston. Scout’s owner tested positive for Covid before her flight home, so Nick graciously stayed on while Patricia was welcomed to Brookline by free Gin and Tonics on the boulevard.

Darby, a 12 year old Doodle, was pretty adorable, but required all day coaxing to eat/take her reflux meds and constant attention either ball playing in the house or going for a walk.Between walks with Darby and solo walks to escape Darby, Patricia was averaging 7 mile days. It was great that there were so many places to walk to. Neighborhoods of old beautiful buildings, great yard art, a library where you can check out bundt pans, the Charles River and of course, Fenway Park.

Nick was able to eventually make it to Boston by driving to the airport with Scout in her owner’s car. Nick said his goodbyes to Scout but she already changed her alliances back to her owner and bit Nick goodbye.

Feeling a little apprehensive as we jumped on the commuter train to our next dog sit in Providence, RI a city we were eager to spend some time in after a very short intriguing stop last winter, https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2021/12/06/siteunseeing/ . Twelve year old Chocho had diarrhea the night before we came (do we bring it on?) but we were prepared (thanks Osito). Antibiotics, probiotics and our special soft diet cured another one. One of Chocho’s owner’s is from Argentina, where Chocho means a happy, content person, but In Spain, Chocho is a derogatory slang word for female genitilia. We were careful not to yell his name on walks/in public. Chocho, a big gentle black lab, restored our faith in dogs and Providence retained it’s attraction.

After these three sits, we probably need to change our Trusted Housesitter profile to reflect our specialization in 12 year old dogs requiring medication with a sub-specialty in diarrhea.

We were kind of surprised by the intimacy of dog/house sitting. It is like living in a (mostly) enjoyable short story that you become absorbed in, with it’s own surprises and mysteries and now, you are part of the story. While we don’t snoop (really), just being in someone’s space for a number of days, surrounded by their knick-knacks, books, furniture, pictures, kitchen equipment (or as we have learned lack of) you feel an understanding and knowledge of a person that you are not entitled to have.

It is also a nice feeling to be able to be trusted, to feel, briefly part of a community and to be there for someone at a stressful time. The people we sat for were all on pilgrimages; religious (to an ancient Abby) or emotional (trip before cancer treatment), saying goodbye to an elderly parent (before moving overseas). After being tainted by the bad in people when our possessions were stolen from our van, it feels right to be the good. It’s nice. The world could be good, vote.

Van Gone

It took us a while to update as we were busy waiting out winter in Olympia.

We returned to Olympia to live out the last 3 months of our 7 month lease of our second-story studio-hovel, AKA the apartment of low back pain, unlike Santiago, there was just no comfortable space. Days were spent sticking our heads out the door to see if it had stopped raining (no), gotten above 50 degrees (no) or if anything in the world had improved (unfortunately, no). Everyday, despite the conditions, we would venture out to walk off our lower back pain and wander around different Olympia neighborhoods while contemplating a (more) permanent residence. Consistently, we were pleasantly surprised with the world just outside our door.

Flora, when spring happened, it was abundant.

Great walks with beautiful trees, perfect clouds, public art and frequently on-point messages

Water, after all, it is Olympia, it is the water.

Wildlife

Rare glimpses (when the clouds cleared) of Mt. Rainer were stunning

With a brief warm spell of 50 degrees with no rain or hail, we started prepping Santiago for a new journey cross-country. After gluing down more cork and wool, hanging drapes, packing and repacking, we put Santiago to bed on St Patrick’s Day, and during that night, someone broke into our van and cleaned it out (better than we would have). Our power generator, daypacks, clothes, shoes, chargers, passports, immunization cards, laundry quarters, cooler, market bags, even the luggable loo. Our first thought was why aren’t people nice? Meanness seems to be as contagious as Covid right now, but without a vaccine, and definitely unmasked.

Our experience with the police was equally disappointing (although our USAA insurance came through big time). Our report was completed online, no police visit. A follow up phone call, initiated by us, got nowhere. The officer seemed more concerned that he was coming across as understanding and empathetic, looking for a “like” or 5 star rating in our post call survey. (Is there a cop Yelp?) We did get some crime-solving tip from the bank teller who told us to look at OfferUp, a Craigslist-like site. Two of our bigger items were immediately listed identifying the seller and his location. They sold within hours.

With a little internet sleuthing, we found that the seller had a criminal record of previous theft. We contacted the police again but since we didn’t have “100% proof” (such as a serial number) they couldn’t pursue it. Who has a serial number on their cooler? So now we check the police blotter daily, in addition to Wordle, Quordle, Mathler, Nerdlegame (well the last two only Nick), to see if he’s been caught.

A month into the spring that never quite sprung with record cold throughout April, it was time to leave. With our plans stolen we decided to sell Santiago, with only a half baked idea of what to do next. After getting no private party interest and lowball offers from CarMax and various Mercedes dealerships we decide to roll one last trip with Santiago to California (for better luck). Our farewell tour included a night in Eugene, Oregon to consolidate all our belongings into two 10×10 storage units.

Now we will travel with only what we can carry on our backs. 65 liters of living, re-creating our low back pain on the road.

Entering California is always a thrill and this was boosted by getting an inquiry for Santiago as we crossed the state line. Our potential buyer’s idea for Santiago was completely unbaked. He wanted the van to house his 98 year old dad on their twice- monthly weekend trips to Sebastopol. During the negotiations, he asked if he could fit a bed AND a wheelchair, how to heat the van, and how would his dad pee without bumping his head on the ceiling. Of course, we could answer these questions, but his plan seemed like a recipe for disaster, although we very much appreciated his appreciation of Santiago’s aesthetics. So, as a public service, and fearing his dad would only survive for a senior moment, we moved on and found a home for Santiago in Santa Rosa at the highest lowball price, Manly Automotive.

With us in Santiago’s rearview mirror we got a ride to Mendocino to unpack and repack our plans.

This week’s photo of topless old man looking out window contemplating his life.

Musical Chairs

We haven’t posted in three months, where does the time go? We had been waiting for…… hmm, not sure what we were waiting for to post. Maybe, for something to happen?

Two years plus of waiting, waiting becomes part of the daily routine where today is not much different than yesterday or tomorrow. You forget who you told what, even though you only talk to maybe 3 other people. You worry about further boring already bored people. Yes, you both did Wordle in 4 steps, now what, so what. Tomorrow, again.

How we’ve spent the Pandemic years. Going in circles! (Links to the beginnings of the circles, https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2020/08/07/driving-to-the-end-of-the-rainbow/ & https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2021/10/01/what-have-we-just-done-again/ We left Eugene July 2020, one July and a half year later, we are now in Olympia, 200 miles north of Eugene. In between we’ve made 4 cross country trips, and two partials (Amherst to Minneapolis and back). Overall, at least 18,105 miles criss-crossing, although your mileage may vary.

I’ve been everywhere, man! Masked, distanced and vaccinated x3 .https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNj6spCtUE0

2020-2022 Oregon-Washington-Idaho-Montana-North Dakota-Minneapolis-Wisconsin-Illinois-Indiana-Pennsylvania-NY-Rhode Island, MA-Maine- New Hampshire- Vermont-Connecticut-NJ-North & South Carolina-Delaware,-Maryland-Virginia-Alabama-Tennessee-Mississippi-Arkansas-Oklahoma-Texas- New Mexico-Arizona-California (not really listed in any coherent order well, because it is going on the third year….)

We landed this past December in an apartment sublet in Northampton, which is near Easthampton, Southampton and Westhampton, Massachusetts lacks name creativity. (https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2020/08/18/our-year-of-living-dangerously-continues/ ) These are the not the fancy Hamptons. (see New York)

Reinforcing the time dysfunction, our apartment felt like walking into the 1930’s. Downtown Northampton.

For 7 weeks we entertained ourselves with daily walks through downtown Northampton, prettier and twice as big as downtown Amherst, so 4 blocks instead of two. https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2020/11/03/so-thats-why-its-called-new-england/ Nearly everyday, weather, permitting, we drove the 10 miles to Amherst to spend time with our daughter, son in law, granddaughter, grand-dog and grand-cats.

Smith College, alma mater to Sylvia Plath, Gloria Steinem, Julia Child and Nancy Reagan(!), a lovely college situated right downtown about 2 blocks from our apartment, is often thought to be the gem of Northampton, but true pride is that Northampton is home to the largest Pin Oak tree in New England. We visited it a few times, it got bigger with each visit. Here measured in Monicas http://www.ents-bbs.org/viewtopic.php?t=7569

The other immobile celebrity in town was Sylvester Graham, he was planted in the local cemetery. Sylvester is known for the creation of the Graham cracker and his strange sexual ideas. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sylvester_Graham Something to think about next time you have s’more. We visited his site a few times, as well. He’s still dead.

It had been a pretty mild winter, until it was time for us to leave. We were delayed by storms that blocked all exits. After a 5 day slumber party with Ione, we hit the road, fast and furious between storms. (Ione’s favorites for the dance party https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CziHrYYSyPc & https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWLUhqNYRLg )

Not a two-month slow crawl this time, as we did when we headed east in the Fall, but rather five days of snow flurries, wind gusts and enough < 10^o temperatures to keep our water bottles, lentil soup and sardines frozen. We entertained ourselves with bad audiobooks, finding songs that were about the cities/states we were driving through and playing our personal radio game (play the song and then ask each other “would you change the station if this song came on?”), hence all of the links here so you can play along.

Due to the constant cold, it was concluded that it was not the best time to sleep in the van, so we returned to our habit of staying in places at least two towns away from where you would actually want to stay. It is not just quantity but quality and the return trip was limited in both. Each day and night were memorable, a creepy crawl through inconsistency in weather, covid precautions and motel hospitality. We followed our updated travelers’ adage… “Red State at night, driver take flight, Red State in the morning, driver take warning.” A summary:

First 2 nights did not bode well for the rest of the trip. Youngstown Ohio, stayed at the “Motel 6 Inches of Snow” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1PrUU2S_iw. Neither did St Clair, Missouri (St Clair, who would sing about it, but at least Missouri https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-X3hdFWmerQ )

Could not resist the name of Shamrock, Tx on Route 66, perhaps we should have. (it was pretty dead https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B1UlYm4ttQA )

Shamrock on the Mother Road, did not feel lucky

Galloped all along the Navajo Trail from New Mexico to Holbrook AZ. Should have said “Whoa” and stayed in Gallop, NM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1LTiKJlB62g

After driving through the dismal expanse from Ohio through Missouri, Texas and Oklahoma, the absolutely stunning, awe-inspiring geography of west really does take your breath away. Pictures from a car really don’t capture it.

We thread the proverbial needle, 11 hours of driving a day, successfully covering 2,706 miles until ironically Needles, CA when the undercarriage panel of the van engine fell off. We dragged it for a mile until the off ramp. We found a gas station with a mechanic (kind of 1960’s thing, like our motels). He did not charge us to remove it, nor did the guy who re-attached it in LA, these gestures helped to clear up the gloom as we entered blue skies, our destination. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cQH8vpbr04

En route, we avoided restaurants and markets as much as we could, relying on what we brought with us and horrible free breakfasts . Anything on a cracker followed by insta-pot perfect hardboiled eggs with mustard + goat cheese, followed by disgusting egg + potato (that is not butter, those are eggs), followed by hotel nachos (nachos?). Our meals seemed to reflect our absolute mindlessness as we crossed the country for the 4th time.

Initial destination reached, we thawed out for a few days in LA . We resumed our mad pace, heading north and managed to see 2 cousins, 3 siblings, and 1 niece in 3 cities in one afternoon (all outside, all masked).https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnV7dTXlXx

Wrapped up this adventure leaving California, passing by Shasta, a bunch of other smaller volcanos and entering Oregon at Klamath Falls again, pictures do not really capture how very beautiful it is.

Oregon waved us off graciously with a rainbow and we returned to our Olympia apartment, which kind of felt like home, although the van feels more spacious. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsccjsW8bSY

We entertain ourselves with daily walks through downtown Olympia, twice as big as downtown Northampton, so 8 blocks instead of four. Evergreen State College, alma mater of Kathleen Hanna, Carrie Brownstein, Matt Groening and Macklemore (!), situated about 2+ miles from our apartment is often thought to be the gem of Olympia, but true pride is that Olympia is home to the “largest spruce tree” identified as such on google maps. Somehow we missed it, walked right past it, but we did see the moon tree, after walking passed it multiple times https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_tree.

Did we tell you that the largest Pin Oak in New England is in Northampton?

And the all time classic often sung while landing at LAX https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzrkDGxZexA

Waits Motel

As medical students, during your surgical rotations, you learn the rules of surgery. They vary in number, and by institution, but the main ones are

sleep when you can
eat when you can
don’t make any changes after 4pm
never fuck with the pancreas

Since van life is very similar to surgery, we follow some of the same rules with slight modifications;

sleep where you can
eat where you can
don’t arrive after 4 pm (too dark)
never fuck with the pandemic

The rules became harder to apply as we moved north and the operative phrase was “closed for the season”. It was like we changed rotations and we were now doing a pathology rotation, because everything was cold and dead.

There were no campgrounds open for camping, even the Walmart was not an option. With temperatures dipping below 30 we had to accept that Santiago was really just a metal tent. Sleeping in the van was not really the issue since we had made a quilt out of the excess wool insulation and that wooly mammoth beast of a blanket was beyond warm. The problem was where do you hang out once the sun goes down, which is like 4 pm. So then you go in the van and then are asleep by 7! The temperature inside Santiago was maybe just a few degrees warmer then the outside. We did not even need to put the food in the Rtic to stay cool, so we now know the freezing point of sardines, dolmas and olive oil.

It came time to rotate out of our van life into hotel life, with its own protocols. But the transition out of van life did not necessarily lead to greater convenience or luxury. The need to recharge batteries decreased, but we still brought in the instapot, electric teapot (those hotel coffee makers are pretty gross) and tortilla maker.

“Eat when you can” translated to waiting outside until the breakfast area was clear to dash in and “grab what you can” at the grab-n-go breakfast.

“Sleep when you can” became “sleep where you can find outside corridors”. Not “fucking with the pandemic”, meant we restricted ourselves to hotels with outside corridors based on our daughter’s friend’s advice (important to listen when the friend is an infectious disease doctor/epidemiologist). Finding “motel” like places had gotten kind of hard. Maine had more due to the beaches but half of Maine was closed, so we essentially decided where to go based on where there were open, outside corridor hotels.

Almost universally throughout our voyage, these motels were owned and operated by Indian immigrants. In 2015, 40% of motels in the US were owned by Indian immigrant families, and 70% of of these are owned by people who emigrated from the Guyarat area of India (West Coast of India). https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/worldviews/wp/2015/08/26/a-group-clamoring-for-opportunity-in-india-also-owns-40-percent-of-u-s-motels/

Three quarters of the owners are named Patel, since Patel is a common Guyarati surname. According to one article, some hotel industry people who noticed the predominance of this name in the hotel industry thought Patel meant hotel in Hindi. (https://www.npr.org/2012/06/02/153988290/life-behind-the-lobby-indian-american-motel-owners)

It felt pretty accomplished to actually have made it to Maine, a long-time desired destination. We had about 10 days to kill before we could move into our Northampton sublet near granddaughter and family. We crept up the coast of Maine, stopping in one cute NE town after another. Our first overnight was in Freeport, ME- home of LL Bean.

We didn’t go in, but we did stop in the parking lot which for us counts as going in. https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2021/12/06/siteunseeing/

Not only did LL Bean have separate stores for apparel, hunting &fishing, and home; it also had a skating rink

We did visit Winslow State Park, which gave us an introduction to the truly extraordinary and beautiful Maine coast.

Unfortunately, the campground at Winslow State Park was closed for the season; we have never seen a dish station before!

Continuing north, we landed near Bar Harbor, ME eager to visit Acadia National Park. https://www.nps.gov/acad/index.htm

Our cabin here won for most adorable place stayed although not much bigger than Santiago (our van).

Again, “closed for the season” was the rule for Maine. The 10% of Acadia National park that was open was stunning.

Limited places to go and cold, cold wind meant more hotel time!

We moved south to another Maine beach town, Ogunquit, named by the Abenaki tribe, which translates to beautiful place by the sea. We spent our Thanksgiving here sharing our traditional Brussel sprouts and cheese and crackers dinner with our imaginary friends, thankful for a Covid secure motel. The beaches were breathtaking, and we walked the Marginal Way https://www.ogunquit.org/marginal-way/ but it was freezing cold, and the chowder we had to warm up was disappointing, kind of like lumpy milk soup with potatoes and seafood.

Lured by another presidential link, we drove to the neighboring, NE cute (goes without saying) town of Kennebunkport, the summer home of the Bush family. Since everything here is super-close to each other, and since it was winter, we were able to drive to see the beaches of Ogunquit-Kennebunk-Kennebunkport-York-Wells-Kittery in less than half an afternoon. We probably could not have done that in the summer considering that 37 million people visited Maine in 2018 and the coastal route is along two-lane roads (just 1.3 million people live in Maine).

Wide variety of beaches with some very hungry ducks

catch of the day (in Maine beach attire)

There was a bit of drama when our shell collecting took an ugly turn. We realized the beautiful blue snail shells were actually inhabited beautiful blue snail homes, evidenced by shells moving across the bathroom floor overnight. This required a very quick return to the beach to re-home our accidental guests. (dental floss for size comparison)

After 7 days in Maine, we traded the cold of Maine’s beautiful beaches for the cold of New Hampshire and Vermont. First, a quick stop in Portsmouth, NH just because we could. Like almost all other New England towns, we walked through the cute center and hit the highlights (exteriors only) within 45 minutes or less. Here, though we were left with some intriguing questions.

Where did all the bricks on this beach come from?

We drove through New Hampshire’s mountains, unaware that a bunch of snow had dumped the night before. But roads were clear as we drove through a series of Christmas Cards.

We added another presidential badge for NH born Franklin Pierce, (the country’s 14th), but also one of our worst and least remembered. At least NH remembers him with an inordinate number of signs promoting their native son’s birthplace. https://www.nhstateparks.org/visit/historic-sites/franklin-pierce-homestead-historic-site We landed in Putney, VT, because it was only about an hour from Amherst (our eventual goal) and the only outside corridor hotel we could find open in the area. Sure enough, our hotel in Putney, VT was on Patel Rd, and run by a Patel family. We bundled up and went for our usual just-arrived walk about town. This consisted of walking the one block of the town until the dead end of the town- a cemetery. We realized more of the town was dead than alive, only about 455 people live there.

We did add another college campus drive through-Landmark College, but mainly sat around wondering what the other 455 people could be doing.

Finally, we were able to leave the land of small soaps and shampoos and wrap up New England travels for awhile. As noted beforehttps://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2020/11/03/so-thats-why-its-called-new-england/) we understand why it is called New England, and it also felt a bit reminiscent of Europe in other ways. A lot of people had accents and you can drive an hour or two and be in another country/state. Although in Europe, there were differences between countries, the differences in NE states is that everything looks pretty much the same. The one stand out for us were the many warning signs for “Moose Crossing” but alas no moose seen; our biggest disappointment of Maine. But, traffic signs usually fail to fulfill their promise. We have yet to see “slow children at play”

Sight(un)seeing

Boosted by the balmy weather of the South, a Covid jab and fevery night on Chocolate Street, we headed toward the Hudson Valley, a long desired destination. Our hypothetical Hudson Valley trip had been a river cruise but in these Covid times that wasn’t considered . But realistically, that probably would not have happened, since the only boat trip we’ve ever taken (together) is the Jungle cruise at Disneyland and that didn’t end well when our youngest daughter threw up after getting off (she thought it was real).

Instead we settled for highway 9 on the east side of the river which only offered occasional glimpses of the river. But strategic stops along the way, kept the suspense up and provided dramatic vistas while passing through many, historic villages.

For no good reason, we somehow fell into a college tour- perhaps that is natural after three daughters, or maybe it is just because most of the towns in the area have a college. First stop, Vassar, it looked precious, expensive and just trying to find parking was a reach.

Wandering out into Poughkeepsie, we drove right under the Walkway over the Hudson State Historic Park, so we went ahead and walked over the Hudson, enjoying a cold and windy panoramic view. A better choice than our hypothetical Hudson River cruise or 1998 Jungle Cruise and no one threw up.

Although we had always wanted to do the Hudson Valley, we did not really plan for the Hudson Valley, so twilight found us looking for a place to stay and since laundry and showers were done, it was time to check off another parking lot- we were fortunate to be able to spend the night in the Elk’s Lodge parking lot (now we only have a Cracker Barrel parking lot left to earn the boondocker’s badge). The Elk’s parking lots, like Cracker Barrel and Walmart, are usually welcoming to overnight travelers. it was a “benevolent” and “protective” night (as per their motto) surrounded by the sounds of a late Boy Scout meeting and Bingo. https://www.elks.org/lodges/LodgeFacilities.cfm?LodgeNumber=275. Not only did this bring us closer to meeting Nick’s boondock goals but turns out it was a historic lodge, Franklin Delano Roosevelt Elk’s lodge, and as anyone who has been to Poughkeepsie/Hyde Park area knows, it is all about FDR.

Newly inspired, we visited the FDR National Park the next morning, but like everything, these days, stayed outside. What we saw was a bit random, maybe not the top 40 hits, but still interesting (their cushions almost match our van’s cushions!, more great views, who knew they were such accomplished equestrians?). https://www.nps.gov/hofr/index.htm

Followed the National Park trail that supposedly went towards Vanderbuilt’s mansion, we ended up somewhat lost in a random neighborhood in the village of Hyde Park. (Hyde and seek Park?).

Beautiful, National Park wooded trail that just casually dropped us off in someone’s driveway.

We pushed on to Olana (or rather the wind pushed us on), the home of the famous 19th Century Hudson Valley painter Frederic Edwin Church https://www.olana.org. (again, great from the outside, skipped the inside).

Kinda like a classier, East Coast Winchester house

The plan was to, again, walk across the Hudson on the Skywalk to Thomas Cole’s estate (another Hudson Valley painter), almost did it , but the cold and the wind determined otherwise. We ended our brief Hudson Valley tour and headed to an overnight in Vermont, Bennington, VT another college town. Unfortunately, we were also coming to the realization that Santiago was named after a Spanish town, not a New England village, with weather very different to what we were now living in.

ice on the inside and outside, winter is coming

During our Covid year in Amherst, we kept wanting to go to the adjacent towns of West Adams, home of Mass MOCA & Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts and Williamstown, home of Williams College, but thought there would be so much to do we would want to save it for a safer time to visit. Since the current trip was all about going places we talked about going (yes, that is novel for us), we thought we would make a scouting stop and we could go back later. Considered a walk around Williams college, but road work blocked access, so we did not get in. But scouting was good, conclusion was a quick stop was enough, two more small New England towns checked off the list. Our view of Mass MOCA, very consistent with our B-side travel.

Museum visiting Covid style- Some type of sculpture outside the Berkshire Art Museum; Sculpture and vending gift shop outside Mass
MOCA and the view from outside the North Adams History and Science museum located in the lobby of the Holiday Inn

A detour through Amherst to get covid testing (negative), an oil change and drive-by two colleges, we headed for the Cape (don’t we sound East Coast?). Cape Cod was not really in any plan, but since we were in the New England neighborhood, it was more a curiosity and would look good on the travel resume. To get there, we went through Providence, RI and checked Brown University and RISD off our college tour list.

Best police car motto seen “Defender of the Arts”

Providence was a nice surprise, had a nice feel, well, at least from the outside. It felt like a mix of San Francisco and Boston, but we only spent a few hours walking along the river. It also felt like a livable US city, a la Savannah. https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2021/11/25/savannah-squared/

The drive through the Cape was disappointing in that it we were too inland to see the water, and kind of felt like anywhere east of the Rockies. We spent the night in another former President’s stomping grounds, Hyannis/Hyannisport which had a little tribute walk for JFK. Here, influenced by our lack of enthusiasm, we decided to turn left and head north instead of continuing on the Cape. If you look at the Cape as a flexed arm, we only made it to mid bicep, and apparently the nicest parts start at the elbow and up.

Another shell lined sidewalk, in Hyannis

With the Cape behind us, we sailed through Plymouth, MA as Thanksgiving week began. Somehow we missed the Rock and the downtown, but managed to have a very pleasant short visit in Plymouth with relatives on Fresh Pond (ponds being another very East Coast thing) and headed toward Maine, another long aimed for travel goal.

We were pretty proud of ourselves for stumbling across some traditional tourist sites even though they were often seen from a distance or may have been closed for the season. But, B-side traveling, while not always chart-topping, can be surprisingly good.

Par for the Coast

We made it coast to coast planning to coast up the Carolinas. A veer to Charleston, which like Savannah, has a beautiful, historic core (and again like Savannah built on a not beautiful past). South Carolina especially Charleston is known for a generalized rotten egg smell known as pluff, from the swampy bacterial (pluff) mud. We walked around Charleston and enjoyed the neighborhoods, but didn’t notice or get to enjoy the pluff.

However, we had been camping for a few days. To pluff’s credit, it may have smelled better than us, which explained the ample social distancing we received as we toured the town.

Entering most towns you pass malls of varying sizes. Their names are; The Commons, “X” Towne Center, Oak/Cherry/Maple/Wood Towers, Deer/Plain/HuntsField Galleria, North/South/East/Westgate Mall, and the ubiquitous “Marketplace”. But not Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Instead you get Jaws, Minotaurs and Gilligan. One miniature golf (or goff?) course after another (unfortunately, we hadn’t packed our miniature golf club or coupons). We did find some sandy beaches, with actual ocean attached to them as opposed to White Sands National Park in NM https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2021/11/12/uncertainty-principle/ . Very nice beaches, actually.

Myrtle Beach introduced us to the new phase of the trip….. “off-season”. We were well versed in “off season” . Along the Croatian coast we never got to go swimming, but we also (fortunately) missed the crowds https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2018/11/12/croatia-1-dubrovnik-on-the-rocks/ and in Cyprus we never got to enjoy the closed themed bars and restaurants, but really we would not have gone to or enjoyed them. https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2019/01/14/cyprus-the-good-the-bad-and-its-mostly-ugly-part-1/ , https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2019/01/27/paphos-the-redemption-of-cyprus/,

But coming from always-on-season-California, where all ice cream shops stay open all year, we did not think this same cessation of commerce actually happened here in the US of A., but it does. It all worked out because the beach does not close. We stayed in a small family run hotel, although the furniture/flooring had not been updated since 1965, there was a balcony overlooking the ocean which is Patricia’s criteria for a good room (plus exterior corridors which is our Covid criteria and generally requires avoidance of chains).

The beach is all season, so a walk on the beach where weirdly all the shells were the same grayish color and super super thick.

Onward to a state campground in Carolina Beach which was probably one of the nicest sites because it allowed Magellan, the Beast and Eureka some play time (yes Papou theater has gone on the road).

For the uninitiated, see below for some past episodes of Papou theater.

We first avoided the Carolina Beach boardwalk not really wanting a repeat of Myrtle Beach, but the next day we ventured to Carolina Beach to find a beautiful, sunny, bird filled beach with colorful shells and no miniature golf (goff?)

We crossed into NC the next day, driving through Wilmington, NC. Wilmington had some Southern charm, less than Charleston or Savannah but we may have hit the wall on cutesy Southern towns, plus we had trouble finding parking, so Wilmington was a drive thru.

So far, weather has been great in the South, pretty much no day much below 70, which allowed us to stay Covid safe by staying outside much of the time, but winter was coming and we were pretty disgusted with the frequent roadside Trump signs so we decided to shelf our coastal cruise and get boosters at Maryland/Virginia Kaiser. Appointments made, we shifted from the coast, turned left and drove through inland North Carolina.

Another stroke of luck when we found the Neuse River Nature Center and Campground, in Kinston, NC with a name and website far more standard then what we found, what we found was pretty memorable.

We entered, drove past a very, very dated playground (must have been built the same time as our hotel in Myrtle Beach), the “nature center” a one room mobile unit with three outdoor cages with and without birds in various stages of rehab. One cage had an owl, one a vulture and one, was empty but still marked “red tail hawk” cage. We called Ron our campground host to direct us and he came puttering up in his golf cart (do parks provide these carts or is it BYOC?) Ron directed us to the perfect spot, down by the river, in the “overflow” lot (vs the more permanent campground village) so he would only need to charge us $10.

We realized our dream in North Carolina…. living in a van down by the river

Ron is a Vietnam vet and said he found his happy place here, a treatment for his PTSD by orienting travelers to all that the Neuse River Campground offered and sharing his “home” (aka campground) with all who needed a place. As we left, Ron told us we were always welcomed “back home”.

As always, home made memorials have the greatest impactl

Boy Scouts were setting up as we were leaving, both underscoring that this was a great spot and it was time to leave

Onward to a still open off-season campground in Triangle Virginia, Prince William National Forest, location selected because it was still open and it was 20 minutes to Kaiser Woodbridge for our booster. The campground was beautiful, lacked consistent internet and no water or electrical at our site. So pretty par for the course.

Our campground may not have had electrical, but the picnic area 3 miles down the windy road did and the chill kept everyone else away.

Also weirdly, when we drove in to Prince William Forest a sign said “campground full”, although the two nights we were here it essentially was us and maybe 4 other people in a large around 80 site, three loop campground. Off season, no reason to be fully open. But there were clean hot showers, which we had to ourselves.

We ended our time below the Mason Dixon line with shots. We arrived an hour and half early for our boosters, and enjoyed the Kaiser shot-clinic efficiency as compared to our first ones at the CVS. Boosted, we got back on the road towards Hershey, Pennsylvania, where street lights are chocolate kisses, to do laundry and wait out the reaction on Chocolate Avenue since chocolate remains Patricia’s treatment of choice.

Savannah Squared

After being on Cloud Nine the only way to go is South https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2021/11/21/states-of-never-mind/. Following our usual uncertainty principles we briefly considered heading slightly north toward Memphis with the lure of the Graceland Campground on the grounds of Graceland, but that would have veered us north too soon with the risk of colder weather. So, instead of Graceland we went to the origin of it all for Elvis- Tupelo, MS his birthplace.

We actually didn’t bother to make the left turn to drive by his ancestral house, which is unfortunate because from the pictures it doesn’t look much bigger than our van. We did make several other left turns trying to find a spot at the Tombigbee Lake State Park, but it appeared to be shut down for the season. So, before the sunset, we hurried over to the next closest campground, Whitten Park Campground 15 miles east. As with many state/national campgrounds, a lot of kids on bikes, sunsets framed by trees and clean bathrooms with hot showers. (pic from Wikipedia)

Twist on the typical campsite, toasting on the tortilla press

This campground stood out though as within 15 minutes of our arrival, the campground hosts, an older couple puttered up in a golf cart to our site to check our IDs. Our hosts appeared more likely to have just gotten back from a disappointing doctor’s visit than a campsite. They said they had been hosts since March, we weren’t certain if their 8 month stay at this site had adversely affected their health, so we only stayed the night. From Tupelo, we planned to turn left and meander up the Carolina coast but something told us to turn right and to continue south to Savannah. We were so close it would have been silly not to make the detour (although silly has not stopped us before) besides, Savannah had some family history for Patricia. Her mother, Geri, spent about 3-4 pre-adolescent years in Savannah. We don’t think she was very happy here, having left friends and family in Chicago. Patricia’s grandfather spent much of his childhood there and Savannah is where her great-grandparents are buried. So Savannah it was. Let the foreshadowing begin.

On the way South, something mystical lead us to the Walmart parking lot in Forsyth, GA. That something was the Subway located INSIDE the Walmart. Earlier in the day, Nick had found a Subway gift card in a parking lot worth $4.11 and since there was a Subway INSIDE the Forsyth Walmart, it clearly was the place to stay the night. After a decent night’s sleep and Nick picking up 3 bags of Sun chips from Subway, we were on our way to Savannah.

Off the highway into Savannah, no edge of town mini-malls, just immediately greeted with huge oaks dripping with Spanish moss. Had us right then.

When we travelled in Europe, everywhere we went, we thought “this is great, we could live here”. In the US, it’s been the exact opposite, nowhere we have gone have we thought “this is great, we could live here,” nothing that appealing until Savannah. Part of the appeal, the joy and wonderment of our European travels were discovering new places and after walking around wanting to learn more. We would spend our evenings reading and learning what we had seen that day (yes, that is our nightlife). Savannah brought us back to our zone.We tend to walk toward water, whether it be an ocean or a lake or a river. Often the route will take in significant tourist and historic sites. In this case we started with a vague plan of wandering toward the Savannah River.

Forsyth Park fountain a curious mix of every European fountain

Starting from Forsyth Park, we meandered on cobblestone and brick sidewalks past beautiful buildings and lush green squares . Each very distinct square had multiple monuments, reading the descriptive markers provided an outline which we later filled in by our web searches. This city was planned in 1730 by James Oglethorpe, three years before he founded the colony of Georgia. He sought to integrate ideas of the Enlightenment into the city; no aristocracy, no slavery. Unfortunately the lofty ideals did not take hold, but the physical expression did. The ‘Oglethorpe Plan’, was a series of four residential blocks and four commercial blocks centered around a square.

Most squares are named after early governors of Georgia, but each square has it’s own personality. Memorials honor the soldiers and leaders of the Revolutionary war, Confederacy and War of 1812; Church leaders, Girl Scouts, (Savannah was the home of the founder of the Girl Scouts-Juliette Gordon Low) and silkworms (a square was the site of the Filature aka silkworm farm). But the main draw seemed to be the square that was the location of Forrest Gump’s bench, but the bench has now been moved to a museum ( read the book, saw the movie).

The squares are bookended by Forsyth Park (more on that) and the Savannah River. Walking through the squares, you pass iconic houses; the house from the 1994 book (didn’t read) and movie (didn’t see) Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, Flannery O’Connor’s house, and the campus of Savannah College of Art and Design (they own 67 buildings downtown and really contribute to the historic preservation of Savannah).

Flannery’s house (*http://www.flanneryoconnorhome.org*) and yes, read the books plus Juliette’s house (www.juliettegordonlowbirthplace.org) and yes, was a girl scout, was a camp leader and bought and sold cookies.

We would get another dog so we could go here. I wish dogs recuperated on the balconies.

Walking through the blocks, you pass some of the oldest places of worship in America; Mikve Israel Synagogue (congregation formed in 1735), https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Congregation_Mickve_Israel

First African Baptist Church (first black congregation in the US, formed in 1773) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_African_Baptist_Church_(Savannah,_Georgia) and Cathedral Basilica of St. John the Baptist (formed in 1796), it was later than the others because Catholics were initially not allowed to live in Savannah.

We did venture off the squares to cross the river in a 15 minute free ferry ride, get ice cream at Leopold’s, a 100+ year old shop and walk through the colonial cemetery with crushed shell walkways.

Walking through Savannah was just a massive Southern American history lesson. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Squares_of_Savannah,_Georgia

Continuing on to Bonaventure cemetery, another Savannah site made famous by Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil*, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bird_Girl looking for Harris and Fanny, Patricia’s great grandparents. As per our brand, we first made tea in the parking lot, then drove on a cemetery dirt road looking for parking (again on brand, down by the river) and walked for 30 minutes looking for them. Again, on brand, we got in the car again, and got a better map, and the Jewish section was right near where we originally parked. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bonaventure_Cemetery

Fannie (Feggy Gittel her birth name) died 2 months before Geri (Frances Geraldine her birth name)

Like many Jewish cemeteries, there was a Holocaust memorial. In Germany and other places in Europe, we saw so many memorials and for better or worse, sometimes the design of the memorial itself overwhelms the message https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2019/01/07/they-do-make-you-stumble/ . And again, as in Europe, the personal or homemade memorials often felt so much more visceral. What happened on March 17 1945 in Alem, Hanover, Germany? Liquidation of the Hanover Concentration Camp? All we could find, is that the father of one of the victims brought these ashes to the United States and buried them here.

Our next search was to find the location of Patricia’s grandparent’s bar and grocery, it was for black servicemen (time of Jim Crow). That got nowhere. So next, we had this picture of Geri and her siblings (from the book Jews of Savannah) at the after-school program run by the Worker’s Circle or Der Arbeter Ring, a Jewish Socialist organization formed in 1900 to promote progressive social policy and teach Yiddish. Geri often told stories about the Yiddish plays they put on and how she hated being the oldest one there (that is her on top with the bow, her siblings the two blonds in the front, far left). The picture was geo-tagged Forsyth park, where we had randomly happened to have parked for our day of wandering. Foreshadowed.

Finding the address of Der Arbiter Ring school, we first drove through the old Jewish section of town but street names had changed and freeways displaced.. The eclectic mix of building names, businesses, new storefronts, boarded windows and murals expanded our history lesson attesting to, like many other cities, the waxing and waning of urban neighborhoods. Some internet sleuthing led to what looked like the steps in the picture in a since torn down building in an old picture of Forsyth park. This somewhat confirmed that yes, we probably were very near or at least passed that place.

After meeting a woman who was on her third night sleeping in her van in the parking lot at Forsyth park, we felt the shadow of the foreshadowing from the Walmart Parking lot in Forsyth Georgia, and stayed the night parked beneath a giant moss-covered oak tree, nested, and enjoyed our Sun chips.

Ignore all of the posts today!

We ran out of space on our free Word Press site, so when cleaning out the trash, almost all of the posts went into the trash. They are all reloading, so .. sorry!

Uncertainty Principle

The Heisenberg uncertainty principle is defined as never being able to tell the exact position and velocity of an object at the same time. That’s how we are traveling, that’s Santiago https://www.instagram.com/santiago_van_hovel/. Each day is an uncertainty of how fast we should be traveling, where we are and where we’ll end up. As a result we’ve spent the night in a variety of places, not always well planned.

After Westworld, we actually were able to find a spot in a National Park at Pine Flat in the Coconino National Forest just north of Sedona, AZ. It was a first come first serve campsite, anxious to secure the spot we arrived 4 hours before check in.

The campsite was picturesque, but National Parks (at least so far in Coconino and our experience in Joshua Tree) lack consistent internet/cell service (infrastructure bill please help). For some people, that may be part of the charm of camping, not us. Once it gets dark (now with daylight savings around 5-6 pm), and you’ve looked at the stars for a few minutes, there’s a lot of time, a lot of time, a whole lot of time to waste each night, and without internet time stops; that is the certainty principle.

The Sedona campsites were awkwardly arranged to enhance the ability to hear every word being said by your neighbor. Our neighbors were the most polite and courteous couple we have ever overheard. The compliments flew, “that is just the right amount of salt on that, babe” , “ the butter is perfect there, babe” “great choice of mustard, babe” “what a great way to set up the stove, babe”. And yes, the complements were mostly about food, but we think they ate most of the time there, except when they went to the market. We did also hear them say that it was their first time camping with each other, so give them another week and then let’s hear them after a night in Westworld. https://chosenfugue.wordpress.com/2021/11/03/la-stands-for-life-in-auto-and-now-we-are-living-it/

Sedona was the first step in our planned spiritual journey through Santa Fe, Taos (the pilgrimage to DH Lawrence’s grave), Bandolier’s majestic cave dwellings, crossing back down to Gila National Forest for more cave dwellings and the famed Cosmic Campground https://sites.google.com/site/cosmiccampgroundinformation/. We were hoping for some personal clarity. Our journey to enlightenment continued from Sedona to Walnut Canyon, to see the Sinagua (“without water”) cave dwellings that were inhabited from 1125-1250 ttps://www.nps.gov/waca/index.htm

Can you see the house nestled in the caves? If not, go to the website.

These were so awe-inspiring and in light of our current home, the half-assed van conversion, we realized introspection was not for us. Change of plans midstream, off to the blank expanse of White Sands New Mexico. https://www.nps.gov/whsa/index.htm

To get there we had to drive through rather desolate 356 miles of East Arizona/Western New Mexico high desert terrain. Desolate quickly dissolved to depressing, leading to unnerving, especially as we unexpectedly passed through the plains of San Agustin near the town of Magdalena, NM. Here was a series of 28 very eerie looking incredibly giant satellites, the VLA, Very Large Array Centimeter wavelength radio astronomy observatory. Look them up for the picture. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Very_Large_Array. They are used to study cosmological phenomena including black holes, which we absolutely fell into.

As blackness fell, we needed a place to stay. What was more appropriate than the creepy Walmart parking lot (is that redundant?) in Socorro, NM. Socorro appropriately means Help! In Spanish. There was a momentary blast of color in the darkness as we spotted fireworks randomly in the distance (also happened at Westworld). Yet that momentary blast of pleasure was blown away by the pounding, heavy bass music slamming the van all night. Patricia was a bit freaked out, Nick slept through it. All was good in the morning (well, maybe not good but acceptable) when we looked around and saw we were in the company a bunch of RVs and realized that the music was just fueling the graveyard crew working at the Walmart.

The expanse of White Sands was enough to wash away Patricia’s crankiness from the Walmart night (Nick was rather pleased to have knocked that off his list of places to stay- thanks again iOutlander app). It was so disorienting to spend the day wandering around an endless beach, expecting to find the ocean over each dune, but the ocean never came.

Considering the last 24 hours, we thought it would be appropriate to exit via Roswell, NM but instead, with no rational reason, we circled back west to Las Cruces, ready for greatly anticipated New Mexican cuisine, plus a Halloween night hotel with shower, laundry and recharging all of our all our electronics (including our 2000W Bluetti power station generator.) Only the food disappointed.

How you celebrate Halloween REALLY changes over the years.

From Las Cruces we headed towards Albuquerque firmly committed to bailing on spiritual growth, and now focused on getting through Texas without stopping. After passing through Truth or Consequences at 75 mph on the freeway, the car suddenly started repeatedly chiming and flashing red silhouettes of the car on the dashboard.

Terrified and uncertain we pulled over, researched the owner’s manual, scrolled through the Metris owner’s forums without benefit. Drove 15 miles out of our way through Albuquerque, to the Mercedes Benz dealership, also without much benefit, although he did recommend we bring it back in the morning for a full evaluation (sounded expensive and unnecessary). Finally, further internet exploration mentioned a connection problem with the sliding side door. We ended up using our 99 cent broom to sweep out the pure gypsum sand we tracked in from White Sands along the sliding door runners and problem solved. Spiritually and non-spiritually exhausted we drove another 57 miles with no more terrifying pinging or flashing. iOverlander (and every free camping app) recommended we spen the night in Cline’s Corner. So we did. Cline’s Corner is a “city” that is about 2 hours from the Texas panhandle border. A city that consists only of a 24 hour truck stop/gas station/curio shop experience.

The city and inhabitants of Clines’ Corners, NM

The night passed quickly, with a strong internet connection.