Sorry for missing Sunday. I had the choice between powering my fridge and food inside or powering up the laptop for a nice blog post I didn't know how long would take to write. In vanlife, everything goes wrong every now and then, but here is Sundays update, a day late.
I've realized in the desert of all places, barren and wild...that I'm not as interesting as everyone I meet. It hits like a wave of sadness but also hope. I could get here. I could be the cool vanlifer who has her shit together every second. But that's just not me. And there are so many stories to make me feel smaller and I have to bend my neck to take it all in.
This past week, I left Flagstaff and stopped in Mesa to pick up my replacement Fitbit. I have dreams of being active, I really do.
I get to California, so bright, so sandy. I take a detour saving me an hour and it's all dirt roads and spots of pavements before opening up to new roads out of nowhere. I'm still worried by the lack of signal when I'm out in the middle of nowhere alone. I see hitchhikers and I feel better about the lonely road. If they can do it, I can break down and be fine. The many a CALL BOX littering the sides of the road calms me down immensely as well, until finally - I pop over a twisty bend and into Twenty Nine Palms, California. I.e. Joshua Tree.
Here, there is a man who I've seen on Instagram and Facebook who built a small campground for vanlifers in the desert. I've made a reservation to stay for three or four days. I assume no one else will really be there. This isn't a popular season for desert dwellings, as the temps just keep rising. However, when I get there, I'm met by Jack, the current camp host. He's a short, lively man who is Uber excited about the grounds and immediately invites me to a 'going away' night in town for another camper. It's a bar hosting a Drag Bingo game and I'm down. He introduces me to a few campers that are out and about during my intro tour and I set up camp and get settled before bingo.
Drag Bingo was a hit. We all had a blast. I won a prize bag for a random card I grabbed last minute and turned in. It was a riot. We got back late from the show, just a few of us, and we hung out in the tiny group trailer trading tales and discussing how we all got into vanlife.
Shay is 24. She's exciting, she's loud, she's adorable. She's a favorite of the group. It was to be her going away that night. She teaches classes online and gets by tinkering away at her half-formed utility van as she goes. She's bright. She's full of life and age tells me she loves me instantly. My vibe. My story. We click! Were the last to go to bed and age hugs me before we go our separate ways to sleep.
The next day is more chill, just book shop hopping with a few people from camp and Mexican food with Shay - a nice quiet day. We wait until the sunsets for a group fire ring and conversation.
There's a man from Quebec and he used to produce music. We all sat around the fire listening to his painfully emotional tracks and talking about our own trips with memory, drugs, and family ties. His name is Serge and he likes to tell jokes. He brought red wine for Shay and holds it when she has to get up to tend the fire or light a joint. He holds us in high regard because we are young and we are all on different paths. He tells us many times how amazed he is that we're all out here in the desert, so young and bright and full of wonder. He is glad to have met us.
Shay wants to go on a night walk under the full, full moon. She calls it Walky Bakey, we will be stoned. She's arguing with the guy next to her about the consistency of cherry tomatoes and they agree to disagree until later when a shared cherry burrito will change his mind. Her laughter brightens the fire ring more and I feel a tinge of jealousy. I want to feel what it's like to instantly be the most interesting person in the room and have contagious laughter without trying. She's amazing.
Aiden left for San Diego the morning before. He's one of those world traveling kids from messed up families who does something with it. I've seen photos of him all over the world and I've been following his growth at the campground. This is his baby, and we're all thankful for it.
California. New Jersey. Montana. Arizona. Quebec. Two more campers arrived before the fire ring began. Our circle grows and becomes more than us in Joshua Tree. This is home. Out here. Amongst the stars and coyotes and desert and discovery. This is joy. This is sameness in chaos. This is hope. I drive away knowing I must go back. A piece of me will forever be left in Joshua Tree.
I drove 3.5 hrs from Joshua Tree to San Diego to meet Carla. We planned to hike to the ocean through an alley between houses. The trail quickly goes from just a downhill trek to me hanging onto the sides of a slot canyon for dear life and telling Carla I can't do it. I hate myself. I can do so much, but my legs are weak and my arms are overworked from overuse. I am on the verge of tears as I'm wedged inside of a slot that I don't think I can get out of. Carla is reassuring and telling me I CAN do it. I just have to keep going. I knew going down probably would have been fine. I'd panic, but we'd make it. What I didn't trust was getting back up.
I felt useless and scared and ashamed I couldn't do it. I had to turn back. I didn't want to ruin her hike. She kept reassuring me that she'd already done it before. It's okay if I couldn't. If my body was telling me no, I just needed to listen to it. She promised she wasn't mad. I choose to believe her, mostly. I resent myself so I assume she just also. It's something I couldn't stop. But it was fine! We finally got out of the slots and made it back to the car to go find a beach we didn't have to propel with ropes into.
We hit two beaches and a lovely dining joint called Gossip Grill and got bunny ears at the door. (Oh, it was Easter Sunday.) From there, we went back to the camp, laid in the sun, had a few gummies and watched a little bit of the Mummy before I passed clean out. I was exhausted. But I was also alive. And that meant something to me, as much as I claimed and portrayed that I could care less.
We made plans as I said goodbye to her at 6am Monday morning. I'll be back in Arizona. There, I'm getting new tires, a lift on the truck, and renewing my license. I'm headed back to the east coast at the end of the week and I am thrilled to begin my tenure in the cliff towns of northern Maine. When I return to Ohio on my way, I'll drop off everything at the storage unit so I'm taking only the necessities to Maine. Six whole months. It's all I can think about.
Once I have a destination in mind, nothing else connects. Nothing settles. It's all muddy. I'm ready to start living the east coast life for a spell. It's six whole months. Can I stay put that long?
My next stop is back to AZ for brunch with Jessica, whom I met randomly in Arizona off of an outdoor group post. Then Flag to see Carla and Ben one last time before heading to New Mexico and its White Sands National Park. Maybe I'll see an alien or two in Roswell.
As always, stay tuned, stay wild, and don't be afraid to turn back. Know your limits and exceed them only when you're ready. It's okay to fail. I'll catch you next weekend!
More photo dumping below:
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