Living out of your car, part II

Still not sick of it. I actually still prefer sleeping in my car to crashing at someone's house. Less crap to drag around. I do miss regular showers though. At least when I have to be around people...which is more and more frequent these days. Parks are MUCH more populated in the warm weather. Go figure.

For those that are interested...here is a pictorial guide to how I live out of my car.

First, the front seat. Cooler in reach while driving. 6-pack at the bottom (down to 5 beers at last count). Cheese, nuts, and fruit on top. Atlas tucked behind, and electronics on top. I have a converter that lets me charge my laptop, phone, and mp3 player while driving, so I'm able to stop and blog from my car while stealing WiFi. On the floorboards, I have a box with things I've gathered on the trip. On top of that is a duffel with all camping kitchen gear, including two stoves, veggie bullion, french press, and water bottles. Between the two front seats are two gallons of water, and I keep bear mace in my door. I try not to confuse it with the aerosol air freshener. Under my seat are the hard-core winter clothes that I don't think I'll need any more. Books/binders in the passenger side door. Everything I need is in easy reach; the only hard part is keeping the cords from all the electronics from getting tangled up with each other! Attaching the frequently used ones to the converter is helping...but man, I'm sick of ear buds. My radio transmitter broke somewhere around Yosemite.

The back seat is folded down on the passenger's side. On the driver's side, I have a box of rarely used things on the floor; on top of that are the first aid, hygiene, and some electronics. The three drawers contain undergarments, hats, gloves, socks, and camp lighting - flashlights, headlamps, tent lights. Multi-tools and all other assorted items are in the bottom drawer and on the floorboard box. My bathroom essentials are tucked against the seat, along with the Christmas cards I never sent. But I did think of you. I swear! Bridesmaid dress tucked on the floor; wet wipes and sunscreen in this door; opposite door has more books.

This is the most disorganized section of the car. Thankfully, it's confined to a few boxes, so it's not too terribly bad. I'm still amazed I can find anything, though.

The cargo area is divided into two parts: bed and storage. The large storage container has rarely used/duplicate items. Behind that is a suit case with "city" clothes. The drawer has the camping clothes - long johns, pants, tops. I stack the backpack, tent, air mattress, and day pack on top of this when sleeping. The right side is the bed. Foam mattress, air mattress, two sleeping bags (one for padding), blanket, and pillow. I tuck pajamas on the right for easy access in parking lots. The cargo door contains flip flops, make-up wipes, and all makeup.

Underneath the cargo area, the tire hold contains those things that I don't think I'll need anymore. Though I've been proven wrong several times...and getting them out is a bit of a challenge, considering the stacking I've got above...

I think I've gotten it down to a science. Now if I could just find my battery charger for my camera....

Joshua Tree

I’m living in the complete absence of when. I drove to Southern California knowing that it was New Years Eve, and was a bit disheartened that I’d be spending the holiday in a random parking lot. It wasn’t until a phone call from a friend that I found out that I was a day ahead of schedule.

Within moments of being told what day of the week or month it is, I’ve completely forgotten again. And, as I think back over the past several weeks, my entire trip is more definable geographically than chronologically. Even that is not reliably linear, as the doubling back results in uncertainty of before and after. It is a freeing feeling, and one that Joshua Tree supports fully. In light of this, I won’t bother to try to chronicle the events of the past four days, but just give a brief (for me) summary of the events.

After watching the sun set alone on top of a mountain, New Years Eve was spent on a picnic table, bundled up in Joshua Tree under a perfect, clear sky. I wished on shooting stars until I ran out of wishes, then went and met my neighbors. (By the way…if good things come your way soon, it’s all me.) The neighbors were…unruly. I’d expected, and welcomed, loud, but this went a bit beyond that. BB guns shooting at targets (positioned in the direction of my campsite), screaming the word “Weiner” as an addition to whatever song they were blaring at the moment, spitting alcohol and throwing fireworks into the fire and (almost) setting their friends ablaze…in the middle of the desert…on high fire alert. The oldest one looked about 17. So, my visit was brief. Which is good, seeing as 10 minutes later, the Park Rangers pulled up, arrested at least 3 of them, and confiscated all alcohol, “guns”, weed, and underage girls. Funny thing was, the two they harassed the most for not having IDs were also the ONLY two I saw in the group who weren’t doing anything but stargazing. Ah well. The rangers did a great job of getting it under control and leaving the loud but reasonable campers alone. I didn’t make it to midnight, but my friends back home did. I went into town the next day and was treated to the most wonderfully atrocious version of “Alud Sang Lyne” ever sung into a voicemail box. I’m keeping that one. It put one hell of a smile on my face to hear them all so drunkenly out of sync.

The past three days have been a series of beautiful, exhausting hikes and standing on top of things. Joshua Tree compels you to do that. I see the rock climbers defying gravity, and a part of me wishes I were one; another part of me realizes I’ll never have the patience to master the discipline. Instead, I satisfy myself with scrambles, chimneys, and controlled falls. I’ve stood on top of many, many things. I've only been indoors once since leaving Seattle; personal hygiene and fashion sense are declining in tandem, so I don’t like subjecting others to my presence in closed quarters. I also learned that, even after 10 parks and 2 months, I’m not up to Boy Scout status yet. I started off on the 7.7 mile Boy Scout trail, intending to hike out and back in one day. I got to the other end and was shocked to see that my car was already there. Despite never thinking I’d veered off the path, I’d managed to turn an out-and-back hike in the desert into a loop trail. A gift, maybe?

And last night, I got to experience a rarity – desert sleet. Wasn’t nearly as cold as northern snow, so it was fun to catch it and roll it into teenie tiny balls. Today, I stood on Jumbo Rock, then did the rest of the world a favor. I showered. First shampoo didn’t even lather, and I think I left enough hair behind to clothe a puppy, but I smell nice. I’m now sitting at a bar in Irvine, California waiting to meet up with another old high school friend.

Soon I’m heading home. I may double back north a bit, but I’m finally at the point where I see the end and have to actually schedule my trips to make sure I do all that I want to and still meet up with my friends in New Mexico by the 17th. This takes a ridiculous amount of concentration, since I’m never quit sure of the starting point…again, “when” has faded.

It is a bit difficult to think of going home. I feel such a sense of freedom and joy here, and I’m not sure which of my obligations I’m ready to pick back up. Part of me says “NONE!”, but I know that you simply can’t live in the world like that long term. At least, not the way I want to. To have any connections is to have responsibilities, and I’m not one to shirk my duties; “Christie who?” is not something I’m prepared to hear from my closest circle.

I’m holding off on making any decisions by simply saying that, when I get home, I’ll fix my condo up to sellable condition. That way, I can settle in for a bit and live in a nice place, rent it and continue my journeys VERY cheaply, or sell it and make dirtbagging my vocation for a while. I don’t know the answer right now. And that’s OK. It will get here when it needs to. And with no concept of time, I’m in no rush. At least I’ve learned that it’s better to drift than to push forward on a path that is not yours.

Yosemite

Following the fun with Utopia, I'd planned on doubling back to the Redwoods. To camp. In the rain. In the cold. Without the sun. Or even cloud texture. Just....more....grey.

No.

I am a southern girl, used to open areas, blue skies, and a blinding sun. I'm like a flower. I wilt easily. So, sitting outside of the first Starbucks I've ever seen without Wi-Fi, I call my mom and have her check the weather online. It appears that the entire coast is blanketed in rain clouds, and the interior of the state is covered in snow. But clear(ish) skies. Destination set: Yosemite. 3 very tense hours on an icy mountain pass and I experience my first night sleeping at a Flying J. MUCH better than Wal-Mart! It was like a concrete campground. I'll be seeking those out from this point forward.

The next morning's drive into Yosemite was the first time I got to try out my snow chain skills. I think snow chains are probably a primary cause of divorce/homicide in cold weather states. At the park, all being visitors, VERY few of us had ever used chains. I had easy-apply cables, so I was last-in-first-out. The remaining couples looked like they'd be getting separate rooms for the week. Not bad for a Texas gal. :)

After my experiences in other parks, Yosemite was quite a shock. It was like Disneyland...on ice. Imagine ice covered roads and parking lots filled with people of all ages cussing and flipping each other out in multiple languages. More fun than you'd imagine. Per usual, most of the park was not open, and the majority of the trails required snow shoes. Seeing as I'd pressed my luck enough, I decided to NOT attempt snow shoeing on an overnight backpack and instead opted for the walk-in camping. This resulted in my first tent set-up on snow AND I actually had neighbors. Who smoked a lot of pot. I think there might be a trend in California...

So, I hiked a bit, followed a bobcat, saw the tallest waterfall in North America, watched kids build snowmen in a fog-shrouded plain, saw an incredibly clear and star-filled sky, decided to stay 3 nights instead of two, slept beautifully, and woke to strong coffee. An hour later, my toes still numb, I decided "this sucks" and left. I'm glad I got to experience snow and cold. I'm also happy to know it's not for me, and that my car can take me far, far from it. At very, very high rates of speed.

Upon leaving the park, I had NO idea what to do. I was supposed to meet up with my cousin in San Francisco on 1/5...but that left 6 days of ???? After much internal debate (and entering destinations from Lodi to Grand Canyon to Death Valley to Redwoods) into my GPS thingy, I decided I had to make a break for it. I really wish I could have caught up with Nick, but wow. The weather sucks up there.

And now, here I sit, in Palm Springs, CA, 1 hour from Joshua Tree. The air is dry; the temperature is moderate; the parking is valet. And I haven't bathed since Seattle. Thus, here I sit in Palm Springs, CA, in my car, hijacking Wi-Fi from Starbucks. I hope to bath after I leave Joshua Tree. If not, I think my car my never be re-sellable. Yay camping. :)

Traveling with Utopia

The snow finally cleared, and I managed to drag myself away from the joys of Buffy and back into the great wilderness. Part of the delay was fear of snow chains; part was pure inertia. When shielded from the elements, especially during the worst snow storm in decades in the Pacific North West, it becomes difficult to imagine willingly subjecting yourself to them again. The need to move was strong, so I finally picked a destination (Oregon coast for whale watching) and off I went. Unfortunately, the whales weren't too happy with the weather either. It was the official "Whale Week" (est. 30 pass per hour), but I saw nary a blow spout.

Or maybe they were. Despite the Pacific Coast Highway depositing me directly above the ocean, the dreary sky and rough ocean waves made it impossible to distinguish a spout from a white cap. Much less see more than 1/4 mile off the coast. I kept trying though...and have a new appreciation for the hike on the northern coast. I haven't spent much time on the coast, so I hadn't realized how developed it is...and that, in Oregon, every 20 feet marks the start of a new state park. The stretch in the Olympic National Park is the last remaining stretch of coastal wilderness and I will go back for a summer hike. Maybe the southern stretch this time. Regardless, the rain continued, the sky stayed grey, and I decided to make for the Redwoods.

Near the Oregon/California border, I passed a backpacker attempting to hitch a ride. Remembering my ill-fated attempt at the same, sympathy got the better of reason, and I doubled back. Boy did I get an education.

This wasn't just any backpacker. This was Utopia...a 46 year old homeless veteran who had just had open heart surgery (2 years, 8 months ago) who was: A) seeing the country before he died B) Visiting friends in Crescent City C) Looking for a more affordable home (than "free") or D) All of the above. I'm still unsure. His destination was 45 minutes south of my planned stop, so I figured what the heck, he needs a ride. And I felt pretty safe. The look of fear in his eyes when I said I was a Texan was kinda fun. 4 hours later, I'm under an awning on the pacific ocean while he carves a pendant and two earrings out of jade/agate soapstone. Terms like "crack" and "speed ball" are tossed around...in a rock-hound kinda way. 1.5 hours later, I'm finally able to get him out of my car.

He got a ride directly to his home (well, first to the home of the guy he hitched north with, then to the coffee shop in the next town...then to his friend's apartment who wasn't home...), three packets of freeze dried dinners, coffee, and a lighter. I got educated on how to transport pot on airplanes successfully, what a peace walker is, race relations in various parts of the pacific coast, the term "Rubber Tramp", which parts of California contain coffee shops where stating "I'm out of pot" will get you hooked up instantly, and a full tour of all the various State Parks down the coast. PLUS the pendant/earrings.

I think I got the better deal.

Christmas

I thought I would be spending Christmas alone this year. One of the draw backs of taking a long road trip during the major holidays - family is not at your side. I knew I would be in Seattle; I knew all the people I've met in Seattle would be out of town, so I'd assumed it would simply be another day, this one marked with phone calls and a yule log on the TV. Maybe an MRE. Time has become such a blur, I wasn't even aware that the get-together that Stephanie, a friend of the owner of the house I'm staying at, invited me to was on Christmas Eve until shortly before she picked me up.

Instead of spending the day alone, I got to be a part of someone else's family. I was taken in fully and completely as a member of the clan, witnessing the family arguements, sharing in the cooking, and playing with the kids. When the time came for the gift exchange, I grabbed a camera and prepared to document the activities for the family. Instead, I became a part of it. Virtual strangers had not just brought me into their home, but taken the time to make sure I had presents to unwrap and give me one of the best Christmas Eves I've ever had. Seeing the excitement on Stephanie's face as she bounced around the room and handed the gifts out to everyone, including me, the Christmas stray, was the truest expression of the holiday spirit I've ever witnessed. Not the giving of the gifts, but the sharing of the joy.

I have been the recipient of so much generosity on this trip. People all over the country have shared their lives, their dinner tables, their stories, given me rooms to stay in, tips on places to go, and called ahead to other cities to make sure I'd be greeted warmly when I arrived. I've always believed that people are essentially good. I had not realized to what extent. This holiday season, I'm so thankful for all the random acts of kindness that have been thrown my way and I am stunned by the generosity of strangers. I hope to have the opportunity to extend to others the same consideration.

Happy Holidays.

The generosity of strangers

If you ever question man's basic nature, just hop in your car and start driving. Leave behind everything you own, all the people you love, and travel with an open mind.

Snowbound

I've spent my last week vegged out, indoors, and with a TV. Not exactly the romance of the road trip, but welcome none the less. I've reached a state of absolute boredom, where the thought of scrubbing someone else's baseboards is strangely appealing. The snow outside is stunning, and it's high enough around my car that opening the doors is a challenge. I think my mother is thrilled with this situation.

I'd anticipated and, in many ways, hoped for a bit of boredom on this trip. I keep myself distracted by shiny objects at all times, making it difficult sometimes to hear my own thoughts above my own chatter. The two seem to be mutually exclusive for me. Today I kept the TV off and kept myself as entertained as possible in other ways. Tomorrow I head downtown to meet a new friend. The boredom has been enjoyable. Though I fear switching back to squishy.

Many people asked what I was looking for on this trip. Many more told me what they felt I was after. I love that. Many times as I heard new reasons for my taking off, I thought of one of my favorite Nietzche quotes on this: "We do not see things as they are; we see things as we are." It has been fascinating to learn about others as they have attempted to tell me about myself.

Truth is, I seem to have a 4 year lifespan on anything. That seems to be about as long as I can stick to any one thing - from schools to jobs to places I live. After living in Dallas for just over 4 years, I ran off to Austin (after filing for divorce from 4.5 years of marriage), had been there for 4 years (following a previous 4 year stint), and wasn't sure if I needed to stay there...or if it was time to find a town for the grown-up Christie, rather than a return to the college Christie. This wasn't something I gave a whole lot of thought to when I left, but something I came to think about on the road.

While I didn't really have a set goal in mind on the trip other than to simply "go", I've learned a great deal. At this, the half-way point, you get to suffer through hearing some of this. The joy of the blog: I can rant, you can turn away as you choose. Don't expect deep thoughts. I'm a simple gal.

I have a really good life. If I go back to exactly what was already there for me in Austin, and that's all there ever is, I can be happy with that. Blissfully. And it is the people that make it so. My family (including my friends) are what matter; regardless of where I am, they are with me. Any "stuff" can become meaningless if you want it too, but the people you hold close cannot. String cheese does not require refrigeration. Spinach dip does. I can put myself out there, and it doesn't matter if everyone is pleased with the results. If you don't live for yourself and by your own rules, then only those who's opinions shouldn't mean anything to you are satisfied and, ultimately, you surround yourself with your detractors. "Fuck 'em" is an excellent rule of thumb. Dexter is a great TV show. Almost worth getting a TV for. Almost. It doesn't matter what you want to be when you grow up; what you want to be now does. "A sentient being" is as valid answer...but you gotta have an answer. Goals and paths are two different things. The order in which you decide on them is critical; the pace at which you do so is not. And both can be abandoned without shame. The only thing worth regretting is the final stupidity. If it doesn't kill you, there is meaning that can be found in your mistakes. A pot of coffee is an amazing appetite suppressant. Outright terror, more so. Introspection is over- (and under-) rated. It is pointless to fear the judgement of someone who hasn't taken the time to understand you. If you want it, say it. If you don't get it, you've still gained an answer. It is possible to find pride in not having any. The number of teeth a person has in their head is not a determiner of the amount of entertainment they can provide. Gut trumps brain until fear takes over, as instinct is swayed by adereline much more easily than reason. There is amazingly little worth fearing. I will never be able to spell. Or proof-read. Or puncuate properly. Austin is not the greatest place on earth, but it is the greatest place for me. It feels really good when someone tells you they read your blog...even if they offer no opinion on it. It's nice to know you've been heard. Using lots of words doesn't always mean you've said anything. It feels good when you do. Joy is what makes life wothwhile. Shared joy is the best kind.