On the Road Again

From what I read on blogs of folks who live on the road full time, not every day is exciting. There are just the average times of everyday life, like travel days.

We’ve had a couple of those.

We set out from Flagstaff on Thursday afternoon, making it to the first rest stop in New Mexico that evening. We camped there, adding another first to my list of them during this trip.

It wasn’t half bad. I actually slept the most soundly that night out of any in the camper yet.

Friday and today have also been travel days. We crossed the desert of New Mexico and now face a flat, dusty stretch of Interstate 40 through Texas. The excitement mostly consists of being blown around by the strong wintry wind, which knocked Cliff around while he was lifting his leg earlier and blew me sideways when walking out of a building.  We are also enjoying busting tumbleweeds that blow into out path. Bear likes watching them disintegrate on impact, like a snowball. It is indeed fun to watch.

I had my first truck stop shower today, too, which wasn’t half bad. A very nice trucker named Nick saw me about to pay for it, stepped in and provided a code that enabled me to get clean for free. It’s amazing how unexpected little kindnesses, especially from seeming strangers, can be so meaningful. Thanks, Nick, for the shower and for what will likely be a nice memory.

I took a bit of time underneath the hot spray, leading me to wonder if Bear is regretting telling me about what he calls teardrop time. My understanding of it is that time passes slowly, in a sort of meander where there is no rush and, in fact, hardly any time at all. I think I might be taking that a bit too literally, leaving Bear much like the country song: waitin’ on a woman.

We are hanging out at said truck stop in Amarillo, waiting to see a friend of Bear’s who will be driving through here in a couple of hours. Bear also got an unexpectedly necessary brake repair done on the trailer while we’ve been here, taking further advantage of that teardrop time.

As promised, here are some images of the ponies (Jeep) and stagecoach (teardrop camper) that keep us moving and sheltered on this trip.

Here's the yurt we stayed in for a couple of nights. It's like a big, round, sturdy tent with a floor and a raised ceiling.

Clifford really loves being outside, enjoying the air and sunshine.

Sedona

The drive from Flagstaff to Sedona took us down a windy mountain road flanked by evergreens. It became clear that we were approaching Sedona when beautiful rock formations began to peak through the trees and a feeling of peacefulness settled over me.

I had poked around on the internet to see where we might want to visit, given that we had just part of an afternoon to spend. We chose Red Rock Crossing, where one site said Cathedral Rock, walking trails, a river and a vortex could be found. I couldn’t imagine visiting Sedona and not experiencing a vortex.

Sold.

Red Rock Crossing is part of Coconino National Forest. At the gate, we paid the admission fee and the gatekeeper, K (yes, that is her real, full name), told us that we could have a map of the place for $1 more — or the dog. 

We took the map. But it is always interesting to see what kind of offers Clifford’s cuteness inspires. 

The closer we got to the vortex, the more I felt a low-level buzzing in my body, starting in my feet and radiating upward. I didn’t make the connection with what I was feeling and where we actually were until we were sitting in the vortex area and looking at the description of where it was located. Overall, the sense of peacefulness that I felt driving into Sedona expanded the longer we stayed in Red Rock Crossing.

The sheer beauty of the place needs no explanation. Here are some images of Cathedral Rock, both as we approached and up close and personal.

Vortex area is in the rocky foreground

And here's a shot of Clifford in his perch after a rough day at the Sedona vortex "office." Forgive the blurriness. I took the pic while the Jeep was moving.

Cooling Off

After spending a couple of days in Tucson, where we met up with a good friend of Bear's and some amazingly hospitable friends of friends, we fled the heat of the desert and headed north to the cooler temps of the Flagstaff area.

Along the way we stopped at Montezuma Castle, a multistory dwelling built into a cliff that was inhabited by Sinagua farmers until about 600 years ago. It housed 35 or so people in its heyday. There's a neighboring dwelling, Castle A, that housed about 100 people. The Sinagua farmed the land below and, from their vantage point in the cliff, were able to defend themselves from enemies and potential attacks. 

Seeing trees full of autumn colors was quite welcome after the dry, dusty, predominantly cacti-populated landscape we had come from, and the air was sweet and welcoming. 

Here's Montezuma Castle:

It was nice to see that dogs were allowed in the park. With the heat, we have not been leaving Cliff in the car. In fact, we've been sneaking him in to restaurants and coffee shops with us. Bear said that Cliff's carrier looks very natural on my shoulder, like a tote bag, and most folks wouldn't guess that there was a dog in there. He's right. And Cliff is so quiet that the incognito act has been working. 

In terms of where we're staying, Bear got us some pretty sweet accommodations at an Air Force recreation area with his retired Navy credentials. We're staying in a yurt for a couple of nights, which is another new and fun experience for me. More on the yurt to come.

From what I see so far of Flagstaff, it has a funky, cool vibe. I don't know how much poking around we'll do while we're here, but I can see coming back here for a visit at some point in the future.

Over and out for now. Happy election day, y'all.

City Girl

Well, I'm told that for my first night in the camper, I did pretty well for a city girl.

It was a quintessential scene: We got settled in the teardrop's cozy interior, snug with a newly purchased sleeping bag and pillow. Just as I was about to fall asleep, a full bladder beckoned and would not be denied.

Ayup.

I got bundled up to ward off the chilly mountain air and trundled off with a flashlight, providing my host with no small amount of amusement. The rest of the evening was a mix of adjusting to new quarters, tossing and turning, and a experiencing a mild case of claustrophobia. Thankfully, I did manage to sleep pretty soundly when blessed slumber did descend.

I have no doubt night two will be better. I certainly will be better prepared, in more ways than one.

Clifford, on the other hand, did not share my challenges getting acclimated. He found comfy spots to settle in and snored like a champ. Case in point:

We parked in the center of Mt. Lemmon, Arizona, a small mountain town about an hour above the city of Tucson. On the ride up, we were treated to stunning sunset and city light views -- the kind that I had imagined would be part and parcel of this experience. Unfortunately, my iPhone simply could not capture the grandeur of it all.

But here are some images of my canine munchkin making fast friends with Bear, our friend and host, during our first couple of days:

I'll post some pictures soon of the stagecoach (teardrop camper) and the ponies (Jeep) that provide our shelter and transportation.

Until then, I'll close with many, many thanks to all of you for your love and support, and for following along. In particular, Clifford and I send a huge thank you to Jana and her family for so graciously taking care of Belle, my big beautiful black feline girl who would not have appreciated being dragged across country and back, to say the least. Tami, much gratitude for helping us get to the airport on time, and getting hearth and home in order. Meghan and Annabelle, thanks so much for looking in on things at home while we're gone. Melanie, I can't say thank you enough for all the ways you continue to be a blessing to me (tingles included).

I guess this trippy business does truly take a village!

Ciao for now.

Unexpected

So there I was, having a lovely evening at a girlfriend's house, when the phone rang.

It was the kind of call that comes after a long period of questioning what in the world is up with life, where there are infinite possibilities to pursue but the overall feeling is that of a rather frustrating holding pattern. Indeed, the call seemed to come out of the blue — but, in reality, it's probably been in the works in the divine plan for quite a while. And it held the promise of being absolutely transformational.

In short, if I had tried to plan any of it consciously, I likely would have mucked it up royally.

On the other end of the line was a friend who has lived the mobile lifestyle for about seven years now. He was looking to move on from a position he had recently obtained in the Southwest that wasn't going to work long term. After talking for a few minutes about what he might do next, he said, "I haven't been to Maine for a couple of years. Maybe we can find a way to fly you out here, and we'll drive back together."

Huh.

As the thought settled in, I observed the quick path my mind took: from a wee bit of shock as it absorbed the unexpected idea to the sifting and sorting of it as an interesting, doable possibility to the peace that accompanies the illumination of the next life step.

I have wanted to take off in an RV as a full-timer for years now, and have waited somewhat impatiently for the signs, signals and resources that would bring the dream to fruition. A cross-country road trip that enables me to experience the lifestyle — not to mention do a lot of head-clearing and connecting with nature — feels perfect right about now.

The canine munchkin and I will be taking off this coming Friday, Nov. 2, for Tucson, Arizona. That's where The Great Road Trip will commence. There's a long list of things to do in the meantime, which I'm looking forward to. Starting tomorrow. Today, we rest.

And we so look forward to having you share in the adventure!

Asking Questions

Well, it seems that yesterday I had a need to know about the next piece of my RV journey. I was reading a blog post from Glenn at To Simplify and learned that one of the many folks he's talked to about fulltiming had taken the plunge, apparently in large part due to Glenn and his RVing experiences.

After reading the post, I felt a strong nudge to email Glenn and ask him a question that had been niggling at me for a while without resolution in my mind: Do I want to bother with a toad? So, I asked Glenn if he missed having a smaller vehicle to roam around in. I've got a car I could potentially tow behind a small motorhome. I do like the convenience and gas mileage of the small car, but I also like the simplicity of a small motorhome without having to tow.

Glenn's input helped me decide (thanks, Glenn!). Today I have felt a tremendous sense of relief at having that resolved and a surge of energy around releasing stuff as a way of moving toward actually getting on the road full time. And my mind has been working overtime on ways to do it -- what to bring, where I'd boondock here in New England, what I'd put into storage, what I can sell, etc.

Asking questions of those who have gone ahead on a particular part of the path is one of my favorite ways to learn -- and decide.

Need to Know

I've been aware of it for quite some time, but recently it seems to be settling even deeper into my being. And I'm accepting it more -- feeling more at peace about it.

I'm on a need-to-know basis with my life.

Just when I think I have something figured out, or know a direction I want to explore, life has a way of rearranging things. Not yet, it often says, in myriad ways. Take RVing, for instance. The internal momentum around that has built up and receded so many times that it makes my head spin. Now it's back in the form of tremendous longing for freedom and movement. But that energy comes right along with reminders about how much I love living in Maine and the sense of community I feel here.

Just last night I had dinner with a Meetup group and felt a strong sense of ease, kinship and belonging. This is nice, I thought. Then, this morning, I read a blog by some fulltimers who are considering becoming anytimers -- having a home base and an RV so they can take off anytime they want.

That thought has been more and more present lately. It feels like anytiming may be the best of both worlds, at least for now.

Who knows. After being in my current home for almost two years, maybe I'll decide to unpack completely and stay awhile.

And get a second home on wheels so I can take off anytime inspiration strikes.