We covered an expansive distance in the last leg of our trip — from Washington to Florida to Louisiana — so I’m going to dive right in but I’d like to first say that I think the New Orleans portion at the end is worth a read. Or, perhaps more accurately, I enjoy reliving it by reading.
Decide for yourself…
Good news: Our hard drive that inexplicably stopped working during the last post has magically fixed itself. That, or the cord had a malfunction … whatever it was, we’re glad it’s back.
I spent at least two sleepless nights worrying that the drive was completely dead and we had lost all of our trip pictures forever. When I shared this concern with Toyo he calmly explained that the pictures are still on the camera … clearly I should have discussed this needless worry with him sooner, and known better than to think he’d only store something so valuable in one place. Tech team Toyo for the win.
Here’s the final update on our time out west, complete with photos.
I believe losing track of days of the week is a signal of a trip that truly takes you away from the routine of normal life. This happened every summer of my childhood, but it’s been much more than a decade since I’ve asked, “what day is it?”
That changed while we were on the Pacific coast, and it was glorious.
We completely lost ourselves in all the great sights, activities and company in June and July. The time we spent with friends and family was probably the best part of our time out west — we enjoyed great conversations, fantastic meals and deep belly laughs.
Life on the road is good, and I’ve fallen badly behind on the blog while enjoying it. I’m not at all sorry about it, but I do want to catch up on documenting our journey, so here’s what we did with the remainder of our time on the west coast… Continue reading “West coast, best coast? (Part 1)”
Recalculating is a travel blog. We created it specifically to chronicle our four-month adventure on the road, but this trip we’re on is part of a much larger journey … one that was partially inspired by the life journey of Tony’s uncle John.
Sadly, John’s 19-month battle for his life is coming to an end, so we’ve taken a break from the road trip to reunite with our family in Tampa. If you’ll permit me, I’ll also take a break from the travel posts to share a little about how a humble, intelligent, funny CPA inspired us to live the life we’ve always wanted. Continue reading “‘An awfully big adventure’”
Toyo and I crossed into California over Memorial Day weekend … or as our friend Dan put it “Nothing says Memorial Day like Vegas and Death Valley.”
It has been wonderful to smell the salt air again, see some incredible sights and catch up with friends and family. We spent all of June in California and had a lot of ups and downs the first half of the month — thankfully more ups than downs — but I’ll start with the bad news so we can move past it and get to the good stuff. Continue reading “The good, the bad and the ugly”
I once heard a man speak about his personal life-after-death experience … he had a terrible accident, flat lined and a medical team eventually got his heart beating again, but he remembered what happened during the few minutes he was dead, when he says he went to heaven.
He explained heaven has colors that don’t exist on earth. That blew my mind and the thought has stuck with me for more than a decade. I’ve tried many times to think of what a color would look like apart from the ROYGBIV rainbow, but I just can’t. My mind can’t conceive of a color independent of the colors I already know.
I’ve remembered that a lot lately because of the rich and varied palette we’ve seen over the past week or so. Sometimes the bright and lovely hues live in places you expect, such as sunsets, but mostly I’ve been blown away by vibrant rocks.
This thinking started when we went to Capitol Reef National Park, which the Navajo people called “land of sleeping rainbow.” The whole place was vivid and lovely, and the rocks there were so different than the rest we’ve seen, striped with gorgeous hues of red, cream, pink, brown, gold, purple and some that even look a little green. As always, pictures don’t do the place justice, but I’m posting some anyway.
Continue reading “Colorado plateau, part 2: All earth’s colors”
We’ve been exploring the Colorado Plateau for about two weeks now, and I’ll admit that my geography skills are such that I didn’t even know this place existed until we drove all over it. It’s essentially an elevated expanse of land that stretches across parts of Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Utah, and it is jam-packed with stunning rock formations. Parts of it are also very scarcely populated, so the nights are incredibly dark, which makes for pretty spectacular star gazing.
Sadly, we haven’t been able to capture any of the starry nights yet, but Toyo’s working on figuring it out. In the meantime, here are some quick notes and pictures of the places we’ve been:
Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado
This is one of the stops I anticipated most eagerly because it’s so different from the other national parks, as most of the sites were man-made about 800 years ago. Ancestral Puebloans built rooms and homes out of caves a few dozen feet below the tops big mesas, where they farmed. I think it’s so inventive and genius, it’s hard to believe the idea didn’t catch on.
The cliff dwellings — built from simple-yet-sturdy bricks, and series of ladders and rock holds — are still around to see and walk through … absolutely incredible.
Canyonlands National Park, Utah
Canyonlands was lovely and really, really in the middle of nowhere. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves on this one, and also inform you that this is by far the most remote camping Tony and I have ever done. We took a dirt road to a place called Hamburger Rock, placed our $10 nightly fee into a freestanding box, and called it a campsite. There were about 10 tent campers not too far away but other than that, nothingness for miles.
Moab, Utah, and Arches National Park, Utah
At the recommendation of a checkout lady at Target (you read that right) we decided to stay a few nights in Moab, and make the short drive to Arches, for a little taste of civilization after the gloriously quiet night at Hamburger Rock.
Moab was a great little town, with a fun brewery and eclectic crowds but it’s hard to identify why it appealed to settlers. Here’s an actual conversation we had pondering this mystery:
Christina: “Do you think this is a place where, if you were travelling west in a covered wagon, at like 5 miles per hour, you’d get here, stop and say, ‘This it is. We made it.’?”
Toyo: “I feel like this is a place where someone said, ‘I’m done, guys. Just go on without me. I might catch up later.’ Everyone else was like, ‘But this is the Oregon Trail, and we aren’t in Oregon yet.’ But Lewis and Clark be damned, he didn’t want to go any farther.
“Then, because no one else was here, he claimed all the land and made a bunch of money.”
Christina: “People paid a bunch of money for this land?”
Toyo: “Yeah, over the generations. He got the Arches, and all this stuff around them, then sold it off to all the people here. The only problem is the government took a lot of it.”
Christina: “The government? What did they take?”
Toyo: “Well, the national parks. They got the Arches and Canyonlands. That’s premium real estate. Scenic.”
Christina: “And then what?”
Toyo: “The original settler kept the rest and passed it down to his kids and grandkids, and more people came and all that … So we got nothing else to make more margaritas, huh?”
The store only had 6 limes; all were juiced.
The sights in Arches were very impressive. There are a few places where I feel like the rocks might be defying gravity, but I’ll leave that up to the physicists and geologists to determine. I just think they’re neat to look at.
Staying healthy while living on the road is no joke. Keeping tidy is tough, too, because my hair is everywhere. All. The. Time.
I doubt I’m shedding more now than usual, but living in close quarters brings me face to face with every individual strand of hair that abandons my scalp and the volume is both gross and terrifying. It’s back almost immediately after I sweep and I’m about to just give in and live in a giant hairball on wheels.
Then there’s scurvy, which can be a real danger if we’re not careful.
Because we’re choosing to camp mostly in remote sites in and near national parks, we’re almost never within a reasonable driving distance to grocery stores. There are small shops that stock essentials such as snacks, bread, peanut butter and wine — thank you Jesus — but for fresh produce, you’ve got to hit a real grocery.
Thus far, we’ve handled this by buying a few days’ worth of fresh produce when we stay in big cities and keeping plenty of frozen veggies on hand. I thought that was a reasonable strategy until Sunday when we went skiing — yes SKIING, crazy! — and I obsessed over a woman’s spinach salad, then proceeded to think of nothing else for the next two days.
I suspect her husband noticed my creepy staring but quickly assessed me as a non-threat after a quick glance at my outfit — made up of every piece of water-resistant hiking attire I own and zero ski clothes because we packed not realizing skiing in May was an option. And as if he needed more assurance that they could easily get away from the crazy lady in mismatched beiges, I had already fallen during the first run down the “easy” slope and hurt my knee, so I was extra nonthreatening.
Anyway, I only had eyes for crisp, leafy goodness after that, so we’ve adjusted our shopping plans from now on, and will make a point to stop at a real grocery store twice per week. Hopefully if we park the rig far from the entrance and shop quickly, we can avoid infuriating the locals by only taking up eight parking spaces for a short time.
This experience has made me sympathetic, though, to the struggles of people trying to eat a balanced diet while living in rural areas. That’s no easy task, friends. I thought about this during a recent drive and reasoned that most people who live far from grocery stores probably live on a farm or ranch and therefore can grow produce on their own, but surely land and weather conditions limit what they can grow, right? One can only eat so many carrots before getting real bored, or real orange.
It’s easier for me now to see why we have an obesity problem in America, considering the easy access to junk food and comparatively poor availability of produce. Plus, fruit and veggies at small local grocers is pretty expensive, so that’s the icing on the cake that we should only eat in moderation.
But enough about that, I know why you’re really reading this, mom, you want to know where we’ve been! Over the past week and a half or so, we’ve been to Santa Fe, Great Sand Dunes National Park, Central City, Colorado — which was really just a place to stay that allowed us to visit my friend Beckie, and her husband and daughter, and also ski at Arapahoe Basin — Ouray and Telluride. We’ve posted up in Ouray a little longer than planned so that my bruised knee can finish healing, then we’re on to another national park tomorrow.
Enjoy the pics!
We’ve received a lot of questions from friends and family members who are excited for us to take this trip. If you have an inquiring mind, read through the below FAQs and let us know if you’re curious about anything else. We’re happy to share!
Why ‘Recalculating…’?
Uncle Toyo and I are both terribly indecisive about naming things. Naming our dog was difficult and our boat is still unnamed after five years, so, as you might imagine, coming up with a name for a blog that chronicles this adventure was a struggle.
We landed on Recalculating… because we thought it represented a lot of what we’re doing here: going off the beaten path for a little while without changing our ultimate destinations. Much like a GPS says “recalculating” when you stray from the suggested route, we’re detouring from our full-time jobs, daily routines and long-term goals, to take what we think is the trip of a lifetime. We’re excited about what’s to come and how we’ll grow together during the trip, but fully intend to return to “normal” life in September.
What kind of RV do you have?
We have a 24-foot Winnebago Minnie travel trailer. This confuses some folks who think all RVs are motorized. Not the case. Here’s the brief scoop on RVs:
RV stands for recreational vehicle and there are two main RV classifications: (1) motor coaches, where the living space and driving space are all together as one and (2) towables, where you pull your living space behind a truck, suburban or other vehicle.
When we first started shopping, we thought we’d buy a motor coach because it seemed more convenient, luxurious and easier to work in while driving. In September 2016, we rented a motor coach, though, and learned that in fact it was too bumpy to work on a computer from anywhere but the passenger seat, so working from a car while driving and working from a motor coach while driving would essentially be the same.
During that trip to Big Bend National Park with the rented motor coach, we also learned that you really have to tow a car behind your motor coach in order to explore the inner parts of some parks. I was intimidated to drive something that’s essentially the size of a bus while towing a car, which again pointed us to the towable. When we started looking into towables and learned they were much less expensive and our current Yukon XL could tow a decent-sized one, the decision was easy.
The experience renting an RV was enlightening in many ways, actually, because we also learned our beloved Grady dog was not cut out for life on the road.
Wait, so where is Grady?
After several weekends and a few full weeks trying to acclimate Grady to RV living, we finally decided to stop torturing him and let him live like a normal domesticated dog again – in a house. That means Grady is summering at his grandparents’ house in Tampa, and undoubtedly having the time of his life playing daily with their golden retriever, Lilly.
Back to the RV … can we see it?
Sure can! Here’s a pic Uncle Toyo took on our drive from Santa Fe to Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado.
For pics of the inside, I’m sharing some from the Winnebago website because they have a nice wide-angle lens that makes it easier to see the layout. Plus, this prevents me from having to put away all the gear we have out on the table and counters. Win-win.
Are you coming near me?
If you live somewhere cool in the contiguous U.S., we are trying to! We haven’t started reaching out to many folks yet because we’re still adjusting our timeline and stops, but please send us a text or email if you live anywhere near the places we’re currently thinking of visiting. We’d love to catch up!
Can we visit?
If we know you, we hope you will! The RV sleeps four comfortably and maxes out at six humans and two dogs. Both of these statements have been tested with our friends, the Grates, and cousins, the Lillys.
How’s it going living in less than 250 square feet?
So far, so good! Uncle Toyo actually commented last night how comfortable it is living in this little space. I think this is a testament to the fact that you tend to consume any space you have available to you because in our 1,500-square-foot townhouse in Austin, we were using every inch of closet and storage space. (Why we have so much stinkin’ stuff may be the subject of a later blog…)
I should note that Toyo said this during our first-ever night of boondocking – which is camping in your RV with no hookups, so all of the power and water you can use is what you brought in with you in your water tank, battery and propane tanks. Lots of RVers avoid ever doing this, but we wanted to visit this park and it was the only camping option here, so we decided to give it a shot.
What’s the plumbing situation … Is this a cousin Eddie-style system?
Only our closest friends usually ask this question, but we figure everyone wonders! Thankfully, Christmas Vacation is a (brilliant) work of fiction, and there’s zero emptying of anything into open air.
We are equipped with standard RV plumbing, which is a tank for fresh water, propane tanks, tanks for grey water (which collects everything that drains from the shower and sinks and is stored invisibly under the RV), and a tank for black water (which collects everything from the toilet and is also stored invisibly).
When camping in a place with full hook ups, you have access to an electrical outlet, water spigot and a sewage drain. Then you just hook up the designated plug, water hose and drain hose, and everything essentially functions the same way it does in U.S. homes – endlessly!
When boondocking, you have to be much more careful about consumption of water and power, and monitor your tank levels (easily done with the touch of a button). When the waste tanks are full, you drive to a dump station to empty them. When the fresh water tank is empty, you drive somewhere to refill. When the battery is drained, you can hook it up to your car to charge. For these reasons, most people we’ve talked to say to limit boondocking to five days or less to prevent driving to empty/refill.
Does the RV have a name?
As noted in question 1, Brannans + names = no bueno. However, our friends and family members have sent a number of very clever suggestions including:
We thought it’d be fun to decide this matter to popular vote, so please submit your votes or suggestions for additional names below. If there’s a crowd favorite, we’ll go with that!
The Recalculating road trip is off to a great start!
We left Austin on Friday night — a few hours later than we had hoped but isn’t that always the way when you’re trying to get out of town early on a weekend?
Our first planned stop was to an RV park in Ozona, Texas, where we essentially planned to stay the night and get back on the road ASAP in the morning. This plan changed slightly when we arrived at the site around 11 p.m. and realized it was the campground version of the resort in The Shining … totally deserted, miles from civilization and eerily lit.
The decision to backtrack a few miles to the Econolodge and RV Park was a no-brainer. So, we essentially spent our first night on the road in a gravel parking lot with water, electric and sewage hookups but we weren’t chopped into bits by a maniac so we’re considering it a win.
By the next afternoon we were in Carlsbad, New Mexico — chosen for its short distance from both Guadalupe Mountains National Park and Carlsbad Caverns National Park. It was cold, windy and raining — in the DESERT — when we arrived, so we opted to sightsee 750 feet underground first.
The caverns are amazing. Miles and miles of beautiful rock formations all in a cave the size of about 14 football fields. Uncle Toyo (aka Tony) has been learning how to use our DSLR camera and caught what I must say are some pretty impressive shots considering the very low light conditions in the cave.
The next day we braved the sunny, cold, windy weather and hiked the 8.4-mile round-trip trail to the top of Texas’ tallest peak: Guadalupe Mountain. We almost died. Not really, but it was insanely hard and so windy at times that Uncle Toyo literally grabbed my backpack because he was worried I’d get blown off my feet. So chivalrous.
Surviving that hike was invigorating. I can’t recall ever feeling so bone-tired and accomplished. Everything from our shoulders down ached, yet we’re glad we did it. We live with so many comforts today — I often take the elevator up to my fourth-floor office for goodness’ sake — and coming by something the hard way reminded me of the incredible ways people survived on treacherous landscapes for generations. Every step, every day was tough then. Hunting, gathering, sheltering, finding water even … all of it required a level of skill, commitment and grit that few today possess. They probably went to bed bone-tired every night — whereas I sometimes read for an hour before I’m tired enough to sleep.
Easy street is a cozy place, but I think we’ve travelled it too long. We’re looking forward to following the paths of more resistance over the next four months, and hopefully finding life-giving experiences and valuable lessons in unexpected places.
That said, we’ve decided that to survive the remainder of our trip while maintaining our sanity and love for one another, we’re capping the hikes at 7 miles per day. Reflective thoughts on the rewards of grit are little comfort on the trail, and that last mile up and last mile down on this one were so brutal I literally thought about ducking and rolling the rest of the way down and praying I don’t break a bone.
That kind of thinking is not what Recalculating is about. We want to take an enjoyable detour from our “normal” lives, see the world and make memories before returning to our friends, families and full-time jobs. Being miserable for two hours of a six-hour hike doesn’t fit that bill. It also doesn’t allow me to move much for the following days — my legs are so sore I cannot even begin to describe it. Every step sends shooting pain throughout my lower half. Muscles that I didn’t even know I had ache even when I’m lying down…
Yet we still went on a short hike today. That means I’m going to have some seriously sculpted legs by the end of this trip, if I can manage to stop eating so many freakin’ tacos. ⇐ Written while sipping a margarita and munching chips and salsa.
Which brings me to my final point: After hiking almost 9 miles and burning an Apple watch-estimated 1,238 calories, all while in New Mexico … all you want is a cold drink and some great Mexican food. Sadly, we learned the hard way that restaurants in Carlsbad are not open on Sundays. None. Of. Them. And we tried … Yelp, Google and physically driving around revealed the only things open were a smoothie food truck and Pizza Hut. So we went back to the RV and feasted on leftover pizza, prosciutto, raw carrots, crackers, mixed nuts and grapes. Maybe that’s the kind of gourmet dining we should get used to during this RV-living phase. Or maybe we’ll plan ahead better when we hit grocery stores prior to small towns … just in case.
And to cap off this post that’s mostly about our first three days of travel, but also a little about life and vitality, I must share that we got another nephew this morning! Happy birthday, Ryan! We can’t wait to meet you!
Recalculating... 