Ten years ago, Jim and I moved to Eureka on a whim. I knew it was rainy there, but I thought I could tolerate it, because I’d lived in San Francisco. But after a while, the rain forest was getting to me. The endless cold gray days, coastal winds and thick fog was wearing down my psyche. I constantly griped about what I knew I could not change; the weather.
So I started to have these fantasies about living in the desert. I wanted to feel the warm sun. Munch on chips and hot salsa and wash it down with cold beer. Sit next to a saguaro cactus and play my guitar. Go out at night wearing a summer dress, flip flops and a tan.
I thought that workamping here in T or C would convince Jim that living in the desert was a good idea. But after just one month, I’ve discovered that I’m too much of a wuss for this kind of environment.
We’ve seen many places in the U.S. where human habitats are completely at odds with the environment. In places like Florida, builders continue battling nature, despite all of the evidence that this is a bad idea. Living there is a constant struggle between the land, the animals, and the humans, and as a result, few things about the place feel natural. There is complete and total disharmony with the environment.
But here in the harsh lands of New Mexico, humans seem to do a better job of working with their surroundings. From the ancient style of adobe buildings that naturally insulate homes, to suburbanites doing xeriscape conversions, people seem to be more willing to work with nature.
On our way to Santa Fe this week, we tried to “make good time” so we opted to take the interstate.
But as New Mexico’s breathtaking scenery began appearing, how could we be in a hurry? Despite our frantic timeline to get to Jerry’s oncology appointment, I wanted us to have some real fun before we dealt with the serious issue at hand. So we hit the back roads.
My Road Trip USA book has a section about Highway 53, The Ancient Way, which parallels Interstate 40 from eastern Arizona into New Mexico. This route takes you between the Pueblos of Zuni & Acoma, and was the path that Coronado took while searching for the Seven Cities of Gold. This road has been guiding traders, explorers and adventurers through the west for over a thousand years, and since we are explorers, I thought it only fitting that we hauled our rig down that two lane road too.
In the past, whenever I visited L.A., I’d have a hard time adjusting to the frantic pace, smoggy air and traffic. As much as I like seeing my family, I hated how stressful the city made me. But my visit was different this time. Our sabbatical has changed my attitude toward visiting places that I find undesirable, which makes life a lot more enjoyable. As Jim likes to say, “it is what it is,” and I accept that can’t change that. So this time while visiting the region, I decided to try to see more of the positive things about L.A, and find beautiful things about it, like nature.
Driving around Los Angeles, I can’t help but wonder what archaeologists of the distant future would make of the cryptic tags of today’s graffiti artists.
And I have always snickered inside at all the modern day scholars writing dissertations on the meaning of ancient petroglyphs which may in fact just be the scribblings of prehistoric taggers.
Traveling down the East Coast and into Florida, we found it best to stay on the Interstates, which was a switch. We hate interstates, preferring the Blue Highways and backroads of America instead. But once we left Florida, it was like the skies and the roads opened up simultaneously, and we could breathe again. The backroads were once again our domain.
We moved past New Orleans, to check out Acadiana, the Cajun area of Louisiana. Thanks to the suggestion of fellow RVers on RV.net, we traveled along down rural Highway 82 from Lafayette to Texas, along a scenic route through farming territory and wildlife reserves.
We traveled through small towns like Abbeville, saw the effects of Hurrican Rita, and ended up spending the night at one of our fine Passport America campgrounds, Audobon Acres. The campground is just four RV sites with full hookups, on property owned by Joe Tessier, a native of the area whose Cajun family has resided there for generations.
Ah, sunny Florida. The state name alone conjures up images of white sand beaches, sun baked old farts, golf carts, and tropical umbrella drinks.
But there’s one unique aspect of Florida that the tourism guides fail to mention. Bugs! Mean bugs. Flying bugs. Stinging bugs. You name it, this state has some of the nastiest insects that we’ve encountered on our entire trip. Pest control is big business in this state, but as usual, nature bats last.
Jim’s right; I had never heard of Okefenokee or the Pogo comic strip. Hard to believe that even after 12 years together, 24/7, we still don’t know everything about each other.
Okefenokee wasn’t on our trip route, but when he told me about it, I knew that I liked the word; Okefenokee. It sticks in your brain like glue, like a mosquito to your skin, like swamp mud on your boots. Doubtful that we’d ever be in that part of the U.S. anytime in the next 100 years, we headed away from the Carolina coast, right into lower south east Georgia’s swampland.
We went looking for gators, and came back with our first adventure feature presentation …
We’re always on the lookout for remote off-the-grid state and national parks where we can boondock, but have had a hard time finding any since we left Wisconsin’s tornado country.
It seems like there was never a problem finding cool places to boondock out West. We often went without hookups in California, Utah and Colorado. But even here in the middle of the Okefenokee Swamp we have water, power, paved roads and a few neighbors.
By the time I was about to write about dropping off my Powerbook at the Charlotte Apple Store for repairs, they had already called to say it was ready to be picked up. This came as a pleasant surprise considering they said it would take five to seven days to be fixed at the service center in Texas.
So our stay in Asheville – a few hours away, in the Smoky Mountain foothills – was cut a bit short, but the couple days we did have there was plenty to get a feel for the area.
This little wrench in the works also gave us time to realize we never care to live our lives along an interstate corridor. As we criss-crossed North Carolina, the incredible population density and mass consumption of this country became remarkably clear. (more…)
Time for another reality check.
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