Hello and welcome to the last van newsletter,
Places of Note:
- Arches National Park
- Great Sand Dunes National Park
- Baja Mexico
OCTOBER
SALIDA
After leaving Estes we head to a patch of BLM land 15 minutes outside of the town of Salida, CO, at 8,000 ft above sea level. Our second day here a driver in Salida crosses into our lane and veers straight into a ditch, catching 5 feet of air. Ty rushes to him, the man awakens from his passed out drunk state and immediately flees the scene. It is 8am. A day later I solo summit my first 14er, Mt. Shavano, fueled only by Oreos and candy ropes. I have the entire trail to myself, except for the three bighorn sheep I manage to sneak up on.
Back on the BLM land we get to know a creature called the ‘Western Conifer Seed Bug’. Imagine a stink bug with extra long, scraggly, skeleton legs. A bionic exoskeleton that can not be killed. They crawl out of every crevasse in the van and I scream at Ty to kill them. They are trying to find a warm place to stay as autumn approaches, and our van is the perfect place. We continue to find them in the van for two months after leaving Salida, a nightmare that never ends.
We spend two days at Great Sand Dunes National Park. At 4am we begin an ascent for a tall dune. Figuring it's easier to hike without shoes in the sand, we go barefoot. 5 minutes in I ask if we should turn back to get our shoes, Ty says he thinks we’ll be okay. An hour into the pitch black walk I believe that my feet are getting frostbite. The sand is icy, each step biting in my toes. We wait an hour for the sun to rise, but even then, nothing warms our frozen feet. Ty swears he will never climb a sand dune again.
FORT COLLINS
Mid-October we drive back to Fort Collins for mama’s knee surgery. The nurse invites me into the post-op room so that I can see her. She is awake, sipping juice, and covered from her toes to her ears in small white hospital blankets, as if the doctors had wrapped a mummy. I think this is normal until I see several other patients without any blankets at all. In her sleepy gaseous state she explains she was very cold, and very persistent to be warm. We stay at her house for two weeks while she crutches around, and before I leave she can almost walk again.
UTAH
An ode to the French women at Arches National Park. “Je crois de toi”. Thank you for trusting me and holding my arm while we walked up the steep rock. “Si je marche avec toi” I say in my broken French, gesturing to the seemingly insurmountable slippery red rock. I point at her shoes, when she lifts them I see there is no tread left. I’m sorry I didn’t understand what you were saying to me. “Tres gentille, tres gentille, merci” she says. Inch by inch we scooch our butts down, her hand gripping my arm. Her husband and son wait at the bottom to catch her feet. The water crossing has made the trail impassable unless hikers are willing to climb the steep wall around. Maybe it’s the fact that she saw me do it first, I can’t understand why her family didn’t help her themselves. I wish I could tell her that I understand what it’s like to be afraid, and that maybe if you just have someone to hold your hand across it isn’t so scary after all. It’s easy to be afraid when you are alone. “Bravo, Bravo” I say when she touches down. I think of her for the next 3 miles of the hike, replaying the trail in my head, trying to figure out if there are any areas that may be difficult for her. I come to the conclusion in my mind that the rest of the hike was easy, and that she will be okay, and she will be brave.
NOVEMBER
“I would hate for my daughter to go to Baja”, the words of caution ring in my ears as we cross the border. Am I signing up to be beheaded by the cartel? Two days after crossing the border marks the one year anniversary of us living in the van.
SAN FELIPE
I want to live here forever. I love the ocean. I love San Felipe’s half mile long sand bars. We arrive at the beach and immediately a sense of calm washes over me. A sense of jellyfish sting also washes over me, followed by me thinking I am going to die, and then followed by a new knowledge to not go swimming at low tide, because the low tide carries with it jellyfish.
We are parked in a luxury RV park run by the one and only, Ruben. It has a pool with a bar in the center, a stage for dancing, beautiful tile floors and white brick walls, and almost 100 or more RV spots and concrete pads. All of which has been slowly buried by sand in the past 40 years. Ruben gives us a big smile each time we drive by him and his wife’s RV at the top of the property, he is rumoured to have been a bartender here when the place was still in business, and is now the only thing that remains, undestroyed, by the sand. The rugged appearance seems to keep people away, but for us it is a hidden paradise, all to ourselves.
One day a van pulls in, in it are Nancy and Ron, and their german shepherd Sierra, all the way from British Columbia. They are much older than us, very tan, and don’t own cell phones. They become our neighbors that we talk to each day.
11/13/24 Strolling the beach we pick up the widest variety of sea shells that I have ever seen. Orange, red, spirals, circles, cones. Dolphin vertebrae. I am a discoverer of the world. I learn that shells come from the animals, or rather are the animals, Mollusca. Mollusca, the second largest animal phylum, second only to insects. There are 40,000-90,000 species. “Gastropod” and ‘Bivalve” become my two favorite adjectives. Who knew that most of the animals in the world were snails? An entire world of intricate patterns and designs, and I am touching only the tip of the iceberg. All these things, just below my feet, I could spend hours combing a 1ftx1ft section. Whoever says they are bored at the beach, clearly hasn't looked hard enough at the ground.
11/16/24 Full moon tonight. We walk the 2km of sand bar to the edge of the water to watch it rise. Several herons and cranes are hunting in the shallow tidal pools. We too are hunting on the shore. “I FOUND ANOTHER ONE”, Ty shoves a tiny conch shell in my face. Two claws slowly inch out then quickly snap back into hiding. We pick up almost 30 different hermit crabs, inhabiting all different shell types, ranging from blue tinted to red to white colored bodies. We place them further into the water than we pick them up from, trying to keep them safe from the birds.
11/21/24 On a particularly windy day we tempt fate. The waves are large, large enough that I’d say we were in the Pacific, rather than the Sea of Cortez. We don’t dare go above our waistlines into the water, but even from a distance the pull is strong. A wave hits my hip, it feels as if I just ran into a couch. There is a large thump on impact. “We better get out of the water before our luck runs out”. It is the first time the ocean scares me.
GUERRERO NEGRO
I have fallen in love with a street dog. He looks like a German shepherd/Malinois/Hound mix. I love all of the street dogs, but especially this one. He sleeps outside of our van for 5 days, and walks with us to and from the stores. He lays down outside each store, for 20-30 minutes even, waiting. My hands are layered with a black grime after petting him.
Tina and Gunter have been stuck in Guerrero Negro for an entire month waiting for mechanical work and parts for their RV. Tina tells me that we have the sea in our eyes, me and her. She says she cries at strangers' weddings and people holding hands. I remember when I was a child, crying at any random dead animal on the side of the road. She has come over to ask about the dog. I can not speak without letting the tears fall from my cheek. As we drive away from Guerrero Negro he runs after the van, following for a short time, eventually stopping, returning to his little pack.
4 military checkpoints mark our route, out of the 8 times total driven through, we are searched 5 of them. San Ignacio, the city directly after Guerrero Negro, is known for its brutal military checkpoint.We pull up to the armed soldiers bearing wide grins.“BUENOS TARDES” Ty exclaims with glee.“Como esta oi”“Bueno” “Bueno”We have them right where we want them now.“De San Felipe A Guerrero Negro”Bingo.“Inspecion” the officer says.We got them.The soldiers are now subject to Ty practicing his Spanish with them for the entirety of the search. The experience always ends with a laugh, and a ‘gracias’, as we drive towards our next victims.
DECEMBER
LA PAZ
The furthest south we go in Baja is La Paz. For a week we sleep at a hostel with a shared kitchen and many hostel kitties. It is nice to be around other travelers for a while. I take tennis lessons, we bike the Malecon, and we even find tofu in a tiny non-profit store. After that we stay in a tiny Airbnb, steps from the Malecon and the sea. The presence of tourists is high and tiring.
The pelican dive can be broken down into a few steps. Broad sweeping of the sky, a sharp downward angle, beak straight, wings cocked, clumsy water explosion, gulp, and a look of stupidity on their faces. We watch the pelicans dive for hours in the crystal clear water on the white beach. The visibility is good here, and swimming right in the middle of it we have front row seats to 40 pelicans diving nonstop from the air above us, to an arms length away into the water.
BAY OF CONCEPTION (BAHIA CONCEPCION)
8:00am, Christmas morning. We kayak out to the island, a 20 minute paddle from our spot on the beach. It is perfect timing, for only at low tide is our destination revealed. A white sandbar, 3 feet x 5 feet, large enough only for our kayak to sit on and not be pulled away, in the middle of the deep blue bay. We spend the morning running and jumping off of it into the deep water. Over and over again. Cannonballs, dives, falls. Our own private pool party. Back at the van we eat too many pixie sugar sticks and De La Rosas.
SAN FELIPE pt. 2
A dead dolphin is revealed on the rocks at low tide. Buzzards have already started to empty it from the inside out. A day later we see an injured pelican on the rocks, a bloody mangled wing keeps it land bound. A pair of ospreys fight for a week straight with a rival pair. Their chirps fill the air as they circle and circle. A hydrothermal vent deep below is uncovered at low tide, the warm water creating a breeding ground for tiny black snails. Which are quickly pecked at by the herons. The life cycle of nature is quickly changing, it is difficult to watch at times, but also beautiful. I have never been able to bear witness to its actuality before now. In a city roadkill is quickly swept up, animals hide from the cars, there is nothing to learn from.
There are some moments in life that feel like I am watching them through a video camera while they happen. Many of these moments happen in San Felipe. Running on the sandbars at peak low tide while the sun rises above the ocean. Pools of water filled with gold. Running. Barefoot. Our last day in Mexico we swim in the ocean at sunset. The sun acts as a flashlight, lighting up the approaching waves, turning them a teal hue as they crash against us.
New Years eve we spend with Nancy and Ron sitting in front of a driftwood fire. The stars are bright as Ron piles on the wood. We eat candy and drink tea and schnapps. Our faces lit by the fire in front of us, it is nice to have a semblance of family to celebrate with. A few days later we wave them a final goodbye as we cross back into the US.
JANUARY
ARIZONA
Back in the US we settle at Ty’s moms house, we both get an awful case of the stomach flu, and we adapt back to being in the US, which is freezing and depressing compared to Baja. However sleeping in a full size bed is a luxury that I would sell my soul for.
On a random Monday we finish moving all of our possessions and collections out of the van. On Jan 25th Ty sells the van to a man from Colorado Springs. As one chapter closes another one begins, we book flights to Peru leaving on March 1st.
