The fulltime lifestyle is always a good time until something goes wrong. From spent brakes to getting stuck in the mud, if you’re going to make it on the road you need to be comfortable being self-reliant and making decisions on your own.

RVing lifestyle challenges can bring couples closer together if they learn how to navigate these challenges . . . or they will end up killing each other and calling the road trip done.

We have faced our share of road trip calamities. We’ve always survived, but oftentimes at the cost of out of control emotions, expensive repairs and a sad sense of feeling like we were all alone in the world.

At times like that, even this tough chick will admit it’s lonely being out there without friends or family to call and bail you out.

Up here in the mountains, we have neighbors, but they’re not close enough to see from our property. We get the impression that people live up here for a reason . . . they don’t want to have neighbors. They’re hermits. I guess that might make us hermits too, but really, we aren’t. We just like the scenery.

Stranded on the  Mountain

Last week our trusty Dodge died (which Jim will eventually write about). My worst nightmare came true; we were stuck on our mountain without a vehicle (other than Jim’s motorcycle). Although Jim made a valiant effort to fix the problem the previous week, it returned last weekend, leaving us stranded again.

We had two options; either fork out serious cash for the 80 mile tow to the great diesel mechanic we found in town, or call our newly relocated friends, Lisa and Sean Purcell, who just planted roots here in Fort Collins after fulltiming with their kids for nearly two years. Suspecting that we had an electrical drain on our batteries, we knew that their Ford F350 could jump our Dodge 2500.

After a quick text to Lisa, she and Sean and their kids were on their way without hesitation. Instead of enjoying their new life in town on a beautiful sunny day, they drove the 80 miles to get us started and escorted us back to town to make sure we got there safely.

The Purcells saved us the towing fee, but their help was worth so much more than that. They gave us the emotional therapy we needed to get through a stressful situation. They made us laugh, got our truck started, then saved our day from crumbling into catastrophe. The two of them, their great kids and their dog Sophie turned a lousy morning around into a really nice afternoon with friends.

Thanks guys!

Life on the road is fantastic, and we’ll still keep snowbirding, but this proves there really is a lot to be said about a place you can call home.

It’s been a quiet week up here at Crystal Lakes . . .

Quiet summer is more like it. Usually. Our moutain abode is one hour from anywhere, and other than the times when weekenders come and inhabit their cabins and stupidly leave food out for the bears, there’s not a lot of excitement up here.

Oh wait, there is an occasional moose and rare wildflower sighting. Now that’s excitement!

We go to town once a week for Wyatt’s bad-boy dog schooling and stock up on provisions. The one hour trip to town is an all-day event.

Otherwise summer’s been spent working on projects for our other entrepreneurial endeavors that will bring in millions for us (hey I can always hope!).

And while the rest of the country swelters in blistering August heat, we are wearing sweats in the morning and long sleeves in the afternoon. A touch of fall is in the air and although afternoon temperatures are in the low 70s, there’s a chill in the air every morning. We are at 8,400 feet elevation after all.

It’s amazing to think how quickly summer flies by in the Rockies, but that’s what makes this place so beautiful. Nothing lasts long enough around here for us to take it for granted.

Including my best girlfriend Renee, who moved back to California a few weks ago. I’m so bummed that she left but we’ll see her again when we head to warmer climates in winter.

But, just this week, fellow road tripper friends Lisa and Sean have decided to lay down some roots in Fort Collins for a while, so that’ll be fun.

This is the first summer we’ve had in years that feels peaceful, beautiful and in sync with all that we treasure in this world.

The feeling isn’t so much because we’re staying put and getting into a routine (we are already talking about where we’re going to spend winter). It’s because we feel like we belong here. This is the first place we’ve ever lived where it feels like our hearts are meant to be here.

The Rockies are being very, very good to us and we are grateful. Thank you Jerry.

We all know the truth, yet how many of us avoid seeing it?

Our lives go by too fast, and one day we’re left wondering, “what happened?” All those cool things we dreamed of when we were younger got put on the “someday” list while we we were being “responsible” workers or entrepreneurs, attempting to carve out a reputation (hopefully good), keep our heads above water and stash some money away for that “someday” when we were going to get to do what we really wanted to do.

The trouble with that scenario, as many of you know, is that someday usually arrives when we’re far too old and decrepit, or dead, to enjoy it.

I’m not knocking those pursuits. Hey, if you want to be the fat man in the BMW, that’s your prerogative. But Jim and I always wanted so much more than a status symbol with a balance due.

From 2001 to 2006, a series of events led Jim and I to chuck it all and say “screw it” to the conventional life we were leading. Those events, though tragic and hopeless at the time, turned out to be blessings in disguise.

Because although we thought we had carved out a life that was adventurous, when we finally added up how much time we spent at our desks, versus living life with Jerry doing cool stuff in the woods, work always won.

Even as entrepreneurs, we were robbing ourselves of the very freedom that being self-employed was supposed to bring to us!

Once Jerry got sick, we knew time was of the essence. It was our chance to spend the last of our days together, living a life without routines or obligations or bills. With dogged pursuit and prayers to the universe, we made it happen. It was probably the first time we realized that all things truly are possible, if you truly want it bad enough.

Live Your Dreams, Work Less

Which leads me to the whole point of this post; right now we are listening to a life-changing book by Tim Ferris, called “The 4-Hour Workweek.”

• If you have ever considered shedding your current lifestyle for one that you know will bring you true spiritual happiness, this book is for you.
• If you’re in dire need of a real income, you can’t afford not to get this book.
• If you have ever wanted to live an adventurous life instead of toiling away in your cubicle, this book is for you.
• If you want to know how to keep your life on track without letting things like Facebook, television and the pursuit of money suck the life out of you, you must read this book.

I”m not getting paid to write this, Tim Ferris never even sent me a review copy. I was told about this book by fellow adventure traveler, Sam, who urged Jim and I to check it out. I had always heard about it but the title put me off; it sounded like a cheesy get-rich-quick self-help book. But Sam’s a smart guy, and he’s got a good life with Kim, on the road and at their rancho in New Mexico, so I decided to get the download, and now I can’t stop thinking about it. Thanks Sam!

“Whether you’re an overworked employee or an entrepreneur trapped in your own business, The 4-Hour Workweek is the compass for a new and revolutionary world.

Forget the old concept of retirement and the rest of the deferred-life plan—there is no need to wait and every reason not to.

Whether your dream is escaping the rat race, high-end world travel, monthly five-figure income with zero management, or just living more and working less, this book is the blueprint.”

We are only into the first hour, but already we’re digging it. Everything Ferris says, we can relate to; we’ve already made the move to live a life that brings us real inner happiness, so we nod in agreement with everything he says, laughing and raising our fists going “Yeah!”

Where we are finding The 4-Hour Workweek more applicable to our lives is in how Ferris demonstrates how to be more efficient at making money, while pursuing the adventures that we want. That’s where Jim and I need the help (especially when it comes to making money!).

Stop shouldding all over yourself. Soon you’ll be dead, or close to it. Will you be able to look at your life and feel content, knowing that your dreams were fulfilled to your heart’s desire?

Or will you have spent the best part of your years as the fat man in the BMW, sitting in traffic, wishing you could be somewhere else?

One last word about Slab City*: Freedom

My final answer to those who may question a stop at Slab City based solely on it’s outward appearance is that the whole scene is all about the people, and the freedom they choose to experience – and share – with others.

Boondocking on the Slabs is free, in many more ways than cost. You can’t beat the price, but then it’s free of any services whatsoever too. Life on the Slabs is free of that sense of urgency which has polluted society. It is free of any rules, really, and it’s the people who are truly free.

One could easily drop out of society with residence at Slab City, as I’m sure many have. But we’ve never felt unsafe At the Slabs, and we have met some very fun and interesting folks.

Freedom can be seen in the smiles of anyone at The Range on a Saturday night. Genuine happy faces and permagrins alike share the good vibes and great music. While minding their own business, each person we meet there is always welcoming and warmhearted.

Chance from Airracket sums it up best …

yeah freedom, i’m free to love you.
i’m free to care for you.
i’m free to fly …

Watch the video for our neighbor Dakota who frequently took flight in his self-propelled parasail. He succinctly summarized his own freedom when he answered our question of where he was headed next with, “Wherever the wind takes me.”

We’re thinking the wind wants to blow us North soon to check in at Jerry’s Acres, but Crystal Lakes received another foot of snow last time we checked. So, there’s no rush to get “home” and we are free to take our time. Freedom is a good thing.

A big shout out to Chance for his mind-bending guitar work and lyrics. He’s got some great sounds and will always get ya thinkin’ … Freedom has always been a personal favorite, thanks.

* Until next year.

René recently cut out another quote and taped it inside our bathroom cabinet door:

“At its core, adventure is the willingness to commit to an uncertain outcome with and open heart and an open mind.”

I don’t know where she got that one or who said it, but her timing is impeccable as it certainly applies to our latest adventure.

Had we known of the uncertain outcome that awaited us at By The River RV Park in Ingram, Texas, alongside the lazy Guadalupe River, we might have left after our first night. But who would have thought this pretty park could be covered in water within the next 24 hours? And after nearly three years on the road, we’ve come to expect the unexpected. Without such an outlook, panic may have set in even earlier than it did the other night.

No, that first photo is not a picture of the park. It’s just where we ended up spending the night, along with all the other rigs from the park, which is a very good thing considering how events of the evening unfolded …

Earlier in the day, we had walked across a spillway path over to an island on the river across from the park. It’s where they allow tent campers – of which there were none, fortunately – and the path was clear of water. We later took the short drive to nearby Hunt, TX to see Stonehenge II – noticing along the way various river crossings that would clearly become impassable with the slightest rise of the river. A sign of things to come. Later that night, three people would be washed downstream after trying to cross the river there. One has yet to be found, another spent most of the evening up a tree crying for help.

Upon returning to the park, I noticed only an inch or so of water covering the path we had walked. That would soon change.

At about 10:00 p.m., the park manager showed up only suggesting that we “may want to hitch up and be prepared to leave” – a high water advisory was in effect until midnight. I figured we had plenty of time and decided to dump our sewer, not knowing where we might be in the morning. While doing so, I walked over to the river bank and noticed it was much closer.

The water was about 8′ higher than it was, and only about 5′ lower than our site. I poked my head in the trailer and told Rene, “Uhh… we might just want to leave now and beat the rush. Come check this out!”

Our pace hastened, we disconnected our power and water, and proceeded to get going. That’s when we heard the sirens, saw the fire truck and noticed emergency personnel suggesting we hurry up because, “This end of the park floods first.”

Gee, thanks for letting us know now, I thought.

A look over their shoulder showed the water about another two feet higher. Everything was fine, it was pretty exciting, but that was it. Then we couldn’t hitch up.

This is when it started to get scary. Multiple attempts to connect the trailer resulted only in a frightening clunk. Apparently I had bent something while trying to hook up in such a hurry. Fearing the damage was permanent and we would be forced to leave the trailer, Renee scrambled to determine which belongings we absolutely needed to grab and I remembered something I learned when getting SCUBA certified: Panic = Death.

Each time I jumped out to adjust the legs of the trailer up or down, there were more volunteers trying to help. One wearing a safety vest and helmet, diligently tried to calm down René. Another tried to assist me by holding our hitch plate level. Clunk. I panicked and tried to force the hook up.

That’s how I pushed the trailer legs off their blocks, causing the fifth wheel kingpin box to slam down on top of our truck bed rails. Doing my best to remain calm, it was clearly time to poop my pants. But no time for that. I wasn’t leaving without our home. The water was another foot higher. I raised the trailer, pulled out from under it and started dismantling our hitch. I think that’s when René really started freaking out.

I quickly confirmed the hitch was still functional and put it back together. One last attempt after adjusting the trailer height again – with the park manager holding the hitch, and me holding my breath – we connected, but it didn’t feel like it. I knew something was wrong. The manager insisted he heard it click, and he must have. I was clearly out of my mind and the water was another foot hgher.

Side Note: Old time RVers throughout our travels have more than once made the same comment one fireman did as we waited for our trailer’s legs to retract: “Are those things moving?” he said. The Arctic Fox may indeed have the slowest retracting legs in the RV industry. But this time it seemed to take an eternity. With water lapping at our site, we were on our way, just in time.

We joined dozens of other RVs up the hill in a church parking lot for the night, hoping the trailer wouldn’t fall off, wondering if we would be able to unhitch. As more continued to show up, one frantic woman asked if I had a fifth wheel. She said someone needed help getting their trailer out because they had no way to pull it. My heart shrank as I had to say no. Our Pullrite Superglide requires a kingpin adapter to function without damaging the hitch and/or trailer.

Walking down to survey the damage the next morning, I noticed our site had clearly been under at least a couple feet of water. All the RVs and trailers did get out, some with their sewer hoses draped over their bike racks. Others who left theirs behind. With only our end of the park truly getting flooded, we feel very fortunate to have our home with us. We moved on to a park down the road a in Bourne called Top Of The Hill RV Resort, thinking we might need to be there a while waiting for hitch parks. But upon further  investigation, the damage done was nothing a few whacks from a hammer couldn’t fix.

Epilogue: As we were leaving the morning after, I noticed a trailer tire was low. Pulling away in hopes that we would find a service station soon, we immediately pulled into a tire shop right across the road. We had not one, but two punctured tires.

I guess when it rains, it really does pour. Especially in Texas. After all the excitement, I did little math and calculated that the river was rising a foot every five minutes. That may not sound all that fast, but consider the gentle slope of the terrain and it’s easy to imagine that flood approaching like an incoming tide – we don’t need to, we were there!

When you RV, you always learn something new. Whether it’s about how to avoid dropping weird stuff down the toilet,  or learning new boondocking tips, you’re always growing.

When we met Kelly and Al last winter in New Mexico, I couldn’t believe we had been on the road almost two years and didn’t know about the Escapees Day’s End Directory. We were on our way to Texas to join Escapees because we knew about all of their perks, but we didn’t know about this one until Al and Kelly (aka The Bayfield Bunch) told us about it.

The Day’s End Directory is a comprehensive collection of practically every low cost and free boondocking spot in North America, compiled by the folks who know best, Escapees members. For just $5, you can join this private Escapees group, the Day’s End Yahoo Group, and gain access to the directory. It has literally thousands of locations of free and cheap campsites, and members update the information regularly.

The only downside to the Day’s End Directory is that it’s created in oldschool format. The book is available as a CD or .rtf file only, and you need to rifle through about 500 pages to find locations by state and city. It’s laborious and time consuming, and cost-prohibitive to print. To get around that, I created a PDF of the Western states we are visiting this year, and sent the file to Kinkos for printing. It cost me $12 to print CA, AZ, NM and TX.

I hope some day the Escapees powers that be will pay a young geek to  take over the project and convert the listings to some kind of searchable database like our friend’s Jenn and Johnny’s FreeCampsites.net.

But until then, this behemoth book is still the best money you’ll spend if you like to get out into the wild, or just need an approved, safe place to crash for the night.

Slab City: love it or hate it.

Lovers are tolerant individuals who respect the many different lifestyle choices here. Haters just can’t seem to turn away from the trash heaps and shiftless drifters, and usually depart within 24 hours.

One might assume that Slab City Lovers are younger folks on the fringes of society, but as our neighbor Bernie demonstrates, that just ain’t so.

Bernie and his wife are snowbirds, spending summers in Washington and winters here at the Slabs.

He built this RV himself, handles all of his own rig maintenance, and is building a new cottage by hand back in Washington. A former HVAC repair man, he spends his afternoons lounging and riding his ATV around the desert. He and his wife have been vegan for the last 40 years.

Bernie is 80 years old. His wife is 75. They’re just one example of the many reasons why we love staying at kooky places like Slab City.

Because you just never know who’s going to rock your world here, like Don the musician.

We hit the road yesterday for the first time since early December. And as with all first days on the road, things didn’t go quite as smoothly as we would have liked. We are definitely rusty.

First, we missed our exit to the Slabs, and almost ended up in Quartzsite. Drove about 25 miles out of our way.

Next, when we were in search of water, we took a wrong turn and drove another 10 miles in the opposite direction. The small road we were on was so flooded from the recent rains, we couldn’t find a dry enough place to turn around.

Once we got to the Slabs, I opened up our door, and saw hummus everywhere. Good thing the flour didn’t spill too!

As I proceeded to clean up the mess, Jim tried to turn on the Motosat dish. Guess what? That pain in the ass dish is acting up again, and won’t go up. Thank Dog we have Internet redundancy with our MiFi setup. If we couldn’t get online to manage Tripawds, we would be on our way to the nearest service shop. Apparently our F2 motor is dead . . . again.

All this, during our first day back on the road. In the past, I might have fallen apart at so many mishaps in one day. Because when you’re new on the road, multiple screw ups in one day happen a lot, and they can be upsetting. At least to me they were. Jim’s always been a little better about not letting them get him down.

But after almost three years on the road, I’m happy to say that we are both able to handle these things with a smile.

A few cocktails also work wonders.  Good thing we’re stocked up.

Our time in L.A. is nearing an end. Over forty days of living in the big city, and we’re getting homesick for our rig. It sits outside under a tree, and the birds are having a party on our roof. It’s time to get the rig out from under the shade, and under a blazing desert sky, where it belongs.

Any time we spend in cities is reassurance that we did the right thing by choosing to live like hillbillies.

We drove on the freeway, and it took us nearly two hours to travel 29 miles. Things are too fast, too crowded and just too much for us.

We’ve had a good visit with the family. Also met some world-renowned canine health professionals and interviewed them for Tripawds. And last week, ate at two of the best Asian restaurants we’ve been to in a while. Both are located in the San Gabriel Valley, where my parents live. These dining experiences reminded us that living in the city isn’t all bad.

Happy Harbor in Rowland Heights served up the best dim sum we’ve had since San Francisco. We also ate at a funky little 40 year old sushi joint in the Hacienda Heights ghetto, Akasaka.

We haven’t had sushi in over a year. We just have a thing about eating sushi anywhere other than the coast. It’s just wrong, and to us, the freshest sushi you can get is definitely worth the wait.

The plan is to leave here on Sunday, after the rains end. We’ll head straight for Slab City, where we a warm desert is waiting for us, with dark night skies and solitude.

Angelenos are getting all worked up over the rain that’s been falling on Southern California. Yesterday, a tornado warning was announced, and minutes later a small “tornadic-like” formation touched down and blew over a car. The hills are sliding and freeways are a mess. Parents are keeping their kids home from school.

Even though this kind of weather action is mild in comparison to our old stomping grounds of rainy, wet Humboldt County, we’re still glad to be staying in a stick house while riding this episode out.

The Los Angeles area hasn’t seen rain since Christmas. I was hoping we wouldn’t see any bad weather this winter, but it is January after all. When the rain started falling, I had to dig our rain jackets out of storage in the RV. Even funnel clouds and heavy rain won’t stop us from going outside every day. That’s because Wyatt Ray just won’t cut us any slack. If our one year-old puppy doesn’t get three walks a day, he will eat the furniture. Morning, noon and night, he begs to go outside for a walk, and we comply. Dogs are great at getting you to break away from work and into the great outdoors.

One morning, as Wyatt led me on a walk during a heavy downpour, my soaking wet clothes were an unpleasant reminder that the Gore-tex water-resistance on my gear is fading away.

Gear lust started whispering in my ear again; I want . . . I want . . . I want. . .

Time to start looking for something else, like maybe a new Berghaus jacket?