So we wandered east and landed in Lee’s Ferry which is in the Glen Canyon Dam National Monument. We are downriver from the Glen Canyon Dam at the spot where the Grand Canyon raft trips take off. It’s a very quiet corner of the world. We are at the base of the Vermillion Cliffs which run for more than a 100 miles across AZ and Utah. Very beautiful and dramatic country.

We hurried into Lee’s Ferry Campground on Thursday worrying about finding camping over the holiday weekend. But all went well and we met some fellow Airstream campers. The campground fills and then empties, having something available every day, so it’s not a bad target.  Some excellent hiking here, if a little challenging. Cathedral Wash is only a 3.1 mile round trip, but has one 30 foot pourover (rock drop off). Jim had to boost me over three rock shelves that were too high for me to navigate.  We paddled 6.3 miles into Antelope Canyon on Lake Powell successfully, though I carelessly took a tumble into the (reportedly) 47 degree water. It was cold. And Jim did a few miles up the Colorado from here (against the current and the wind) and back down.

We have seen condors, red tails, and osprey.

We may wander east next, but decisions don’t happen until they happen.

We have landed overnight in Tehachapi. Not as many spring flowers over the pass as in previous years. Planning to wander into southern Utah, but, since we insist on not planning, we have mistakenly wandered into spring break—-so who knows how that will go.

I variously think I will be posting more here on the blog. And have set it up so people can subscribe. I will post most of the travel items on FB, but other things may end up here. And, variously, I don’t actually seem to have anything worthwhile to say, so we will see what will actually arise. Maybe nothing.

We ended up at Cibola National Wildlife Refuge, home to Greater Sandhill Cranes, multitudes of ducks, wild burros, mountain sheep, coyotes, et al. We are camped along the Colorado where it is channelized, but still has water. It’s running pretty well. Though sunny and beautiful, it’s so chilly out (cold and wind) as to require layered jackets. The mountains around Cibola are quite beautiful and stark against a very blue sky.

There is nothing much but rough country here, some farming of alfalfa and such. But we found a small market with ice cream sandwiches and had a Sunday snack.

We met another traveler, recently retired as a biologist from the Forest Service and had a couple of days of long philosophical and political discussions. Recently retired folks seem to have a lot to consider about life. He’s off to a Bears Ears National Monument Festival (slash/ political activism meetup) in Bluff, Utah next weekend. It is a bit tempting, but for the 1000 extra miles of driving it would entail.

We’re off to Palm Springs tomorrow as two friends will surprisingly be there. Also, time for laundry and soaks in the spa at Sam’s Family Spa in Desert Hot Springs, where we will “camp”.

Other notes: Saw Black Panther—and loved it. Replace shredding shoes and lost hat at REI in Scottsdale. Made pizza—love our pizza making Biolite stove.

The rain has been wonderful—the scent of the desert here, Sonoran, changes as the humidity and dampness increases. There is a soft ambience that you can almost feel as the flora diffuses fragrances in the misty dampness.

We are interested in building our skills for traveling in Mexico with the trailer. And so, today we did a day trip, without the trailer, and explored Puerto Peñasco just south of here. It’s a medium size town, also known as Rocky Point, where one of the primary industries is hosting Americans in hotels and in their oversized RVs. (Don’t ever go during spring break, they say.) So we tripped around town and checked out the RV parks, little American enclaves, and some of the biggest RVs we have ever seen.  There were, of course, also many small rigs, and elderly rigs, and battered rigs. No Airstreams though–not a one.

Jim found us a wonderful, funky bar and restaurant at the very end of the malecón. Even the local hawkers were very polite and lovely, leaving us to eat when the food arrived. From the market, one and a half pounds of fresh halibut and asparagus: $5.

Off to Scottsdale for some city time. Hopefully we can find somewhere to set our wheels.

Jim’s Radio Signal Map. 

We have headed out from Sonoma County to Arizona and possibly Baja.  People we meet ask how long we’ve been “out” and I tell the story of how we are recently “homeless”. Jim prefers to call it a “gap year”. All is well. We meet friends in Tubac, Arizona Saturday. Wandering slowly south. Feel free to skip the details below. I am experimenting with the blog to make distribution of our status a little more manageable. (But not entirely sure this is useful. We’ll see.)

Jim is working his radio net and posting where we’ve been: Jim’s Radio Signal Map. Jim will update this at each camping site.

On the Road- Day 1

Heading out on a Monday seems “work like”, though the constraining reason was a super bowl party. (One of our close friends won the big money prize.) We picked an unusual route to AZ, via Echo Summit (Hwy 50–no snow to speak of anywhere) and Monitor Pass (Markleeville,  no snow at all). Monitor Pass is a lightly used road with outstanding 180 degree views of the Sierras. We targeted 395 for the route south, discovering that all the resorts and campgrounds are closed even though the weather is May-like. I thought Bridgeport looked like a good spot to boon-dock in a national forest, but after a wry look from the ranger, I checked the overnight temperature—-22 degrees. We decided that was too low for fun and headed to Bishop, where a balmy 44 degrees and a county fairgrounds campsite made it easy.

Network Domain Failures– Day 2

I spent the second day dealing with internet issues in yak-shaving fashion, while Jim drove through the desert mountains. I wanted to connect with someone about future travel, so I wanted our website/blogs to be viewable (they weren’t—after neglect they were riddled with malware), so after research I hired a company to fix them, and then our domain mail system failed (all of us use that  family domain), and I (and the kids) spent the day trying to figure out why. It suddenly resolved in the afternoon and I then received the previous day’s email that our DNS records would take a day to propagate. Of course, it didn’t arrive until that happened. Now where was I?

Las Vegas

We spent two nights at our weirdly favorite private campground—the KOA in Las Vegas. It’s under $30, hot tub, pool, laundry, good desert cycling nearby, and access to 3 Jose Andres restaurants we like (we’re passing this time.) Soaking, biking, and eating is all we do in Vegas.

In two days on the road, we have met 3 sets of full-timers. One couple was in the tiniest Airstream and a larger truck. They had upgraded from a teardrop which they found poorly winterized—not much of a upgrade in winter. We are headed toward the winter home of thousands of full-timers snow birding (and actual birding) in Arizona.

I haven’t assimilated the full extent of what it means to live ALL THE TIME in this small home. It won’t come to roost until we arrive back in Healdsburg—and there is no “other” place. So there is a little newish kind of trepidation. I keep looking for little ways to make it more home-like and less just-camping-like. And we have a fairly complicated schedule planned spring into summer. ALL the granddaughters have play performances in March, the next time we’ll want to be back in home territory.

Now we are boon-docked in Kofa National Wildlife Monument.

Spent the morning riding our bikes around the sea wall in Stanley Park. And had lunch and some grocery shopping at Granville Island.  All mixed in, of course, with work negotiations with folks in DC.  (“Vacation” has gotten off to a very rough start because there are work issues that have to be dealt with.)

But having a little “summer” is so fine. Living in San Francisco puts me at odds with July and August—which can be so dark, dreary, cold, and windy. We’ve been biking to work in a drippy fog, and home in a windy bluster most days in July. (Okay, June was beautiful this year.)  There are some things that everyone expects as part of summer——everyone except a San Franciscan.

• Eating dinner outside, casually, lazily while enjoying the softening warmth of the day.
• Lying in the grass comfortably watching the stars come out.
• Jumping in the lake, river, or, even, ocean to cool off.
• Taking your morning coffee or tea barefoot out into the yard.
• Playing in the pool until it is dark.
• Water parks with sprinklers that kids can play in every day.

Can’t do any of those things in summer in San Francisco except on a rare day. Driving around Stanley Park last night was enthralling—folks everywhere swimming, playing, cycling, hanging out in the warm twilight. Out of doors for a long summer evening. Jealous.

Of course, folks sweltering in heat day after day, have worse problems. I do not suggest that I am suffering, just whining at bit at things I miss. And our waiter last evening suggested that this long, warm, sunny spell was an anomaly; even as we gazed out over the Vancouver harbor on a gorgeous warm evening.

No matter, we will start our trek north tomorrow to Port McNeil, where the weather is 10+ degrees cooler and the showers more frequent. Kayaking in the Broughton Archipelago for 6 days, hopefully a few days offline.

Turns out that while there is a lot going on it all is “just what’s happening”. And that’s the core of my personal practice. Watching the shoulds, if-onlys, whys, why-nots, sighs, pouts, grumbles, comparisons, judgements,and scoffs—and every day trying to let them float by and not define things. I fail. But I try.

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In the background, I’m watching the movie “42” while I type on a flight to DC.. A beautiful little film with great actors and writers. I’ve seen it before, but it just makes me smile. Even the automobiles are beautiful.

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So what is happening?

This month, August, we are traveling. Business, work from the road (a bit), a “road trip”, and an off-the-grid kayaking week in the Broughton Archipelago in British Columbia. It’s been awhile since we took an extended break from work.

Key elements of this are the Rules of the Roadtrip (RotRT)—which we use to create some balance and sanity in our lives. It’s gotten to be that I lean on these Rules most days. And a lot of it falls back on “what’s happening”.

• The first principle is Wandering. The task of a Road Trip is is to wander in time and space. Specifically, wandering is about not trying to control what is going to happen. (You aren’t in control anyway—so just give it up.)  (Sort of a model for life in any case.)
• Second, just Follow along. Any thing can happen; and you must be content with any thing that does happen. Actually you need to be happy with it—well, most of it.
• Third, you Don’t Know. You might have an inclination of what might happen, or where you might be headed, but you never actually know. And not knowing is the actual point.
• Fourth, Don’t Mess with what’s happening (if you can help it.)You have to follow what’s happening before you follow any previous plan. You aren’t suppose to control things remember.
• Fifth, Look Around. It’s all about seeing, about enjoying seeing what happens, or at least being interested—even when it causes a should, if-only, why, why-not, sigh, pout, grumble, comparison, judgement, or scoff.
• Should all else fail, CTHD. (A cleaned up version—Calm the Heck Down)
• Proceed.

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One of our favorite “Road Trip” stories is a wander toward the Rockies. It started out one Saturday morning with a discovery that someone had stolen our hitch—which was customized with a weld to work with our little trailer. So we had to run to Santa Rose, find a replacement, find a welder to do the work—just what was happening. Back in Healdsburg by noon and on the road by 1, we still somehow made Elko, Nevada that day.  The next morning, picking up gas along our way east across eastern Nevada, we saw a Sunday morning news headline, “Dalai Lama to Teach in Sun Valley at 2PM”. We glanced at each other, “we can make that”, and off we went. Wandering north. Proceeding.

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And, of course, we are going to miss our four granddaughters while we are gone. Especially the babies who sound so adorable when they both say, “Haby Birdday, GamMa.” Which is followed up quickly with “Haby Birdday, GamPa.”  (Or vice versa.) It’s a general purpose “I love you”.

Here I am, today, on a very early flight to Boston. I will be there only 26 hours for an evening and a day-long meeting and will be back home tomorrow night. Home, as may surprise some people who have known me, and as often surprises me, is a 70 year-old rented flat in Potrero Hill, San Francisco. As a die-hard, back-to-the-land country girl, to be now ensconced in city life is bit of a miracle, or perhaps a cosmic sleight of hand.

There are many aspects of my life that surprise me daily (though the path here has been a moment-by-moment smooth transition) and the disjoint between “before” and “now” is dramatic.

• Most dry days, I bicycle to work through downtown city traffic across rail tracks, pot holes, broken glass, and other dangers. I love my bike more than anything I own. I keep it dusty and a bit run down with a very cracked seat to try to minimize anyone’s instinct to steal it. I can’t imagine any of my “things” that I would loath so much to lose. In fact, we own four bikes that we have collected over the years, and they are the coolest things we own. Actually, they are the only “cool” things we own.
• I have become a Giants baseball fan. We have been living in the city now for almost six years—four of them living within two blocks of AT&T Park. So we have been “living” the baseball season, and it just became natural to watch. It is fun and distracting to watch young folks perfect their skills, struggle against adversity, and, yes, sometimes win. They are a particularly compelling set of characters, earnest and hard-working.  And baseball, doesn’t require all of one’s attention—so other projects (like cooking, laundry, writing blog posts, or sketches of granddaughters) can happen simultaneously.
• I, a country girl trained in the arts, am a co-inventor on a slew of patents. How in the world did that happen? When the four of us got together to kick off the company, the first thing we did was to take the core ideas and expand them in dozens of directions. And my first assignment at Voxer was to write all that down clearly and then manage patent development. So I figured out how to do that (what to choose, how to write it, what order to approach things).  Of course, we had a patent attorney who educated me on the patent part and it was all a team effort based on our core concepts. But what we did way back then has turned out much better than expected.
• I am not farming, homesteading, or growing any of our food, unless you count a basil plant and a kafir lime tree in a pot. Ever since we left Berkeley, we have kept a garden, and often a sizable garden and orchards. For one period, we actually grew all our own meat, eggs, and milk; canned  and dried all our fruit; made our own cheeses, breads, and liquors (those are fun). But now, we shop in a little local market, sometimes the famers market, sometimes Whole Foods. We do have a fabulous local French butcher (who hand picks every animal), a neighborhood ice creamery, and a nearby winery. But we don’t grow anything, and that is a bit sad.
• I have not gotten back to Nepal in nine years. I went to Nepal with friends in 2004. (Jim was valiantly working and stayed behind; but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.) I spent five weeks there staying with family, traveling, trekking (to Muktinath), and generally being overwhelmed by the vast cultural differences and the fact that the country was in a bit of a civil war. It was wonderful and I really do consider that I have family in Nepal. But, sadly, we haven’t managed, with work and local family, to get back there. Jim needs to go and meet people and explore the place. I think it needs to be on the schedule for 2014.
• I live somewhere where I can grow hydrangeas, which I have always loved, but was unable to make thrive in the heat of the Alexander Valley.  Okay, I have one successful hydrangea in a pot on the front stoop. But it keeps its blooms from May through October and last year I was even able to pick them late and dry the flowers.
• I live successfully in a large city surrounded by people, trains, buses, cars. For many years of my life, it did not seem conceivable that I could do that—that I could survive if I wasn’t out in the woods more directly. I miss our great oaks, the hillsides, the views of the valley, the owls at night, the coyotes in the canyon, the cascades in downpours, the river rising, the rattle of gondolas full of grapes, the bushels of produce to be processed each week, the sun blazing over Mount St Helena in the morning,  sprinklers running, the winter mists. It seems so long ago.

And here I am, cycling to work through crazy traffic in the morning; which is even worse in a foggy evening bluster on game days.

It has been a very long time since I last posted anything to this blog. And for good reason. Jim and I have been working full-time to help build a company (Voxer), helping/watching our children expand into families (four granddaughters), and taking care of ourselves (which is a project in itself). That has been more than enough to keep me busy, and those things together took the momentum of living and just filled it up.

Before engaging in this company-building, I was consumed for a few years by creative projects (not that Voxer isn’t a creative project). As some folks may remember, I spent my early life in the arts, and only later did I move into technology. After the crash of 2001 when technology work was hard to come by, a few creative projects, large and small, took over my life. Some of them were quite far along when my attention shifted to Voxer,  and they are still there waiting. In fact, it seems, for some reason, that their momentum is picking up and my evenings and weekends (and airplane flights like right now) are starting to shape themselves around them.

It all got re-started recently when Jim and I took our Roland digital piano down to our older granddaughter who had expressed interest. Suddenly I had space in our flat for a work table. And then drawing materials came out of storage and small sketches of granddaughters starting appearing while baseball games played on the television.

I also had to move our website (an old placeholder) and our blogs to a new hosting service which suddenly had me thinking about blogging and posting my art portfolio. The novel is also coming out of dusty storage as well, it seems, and I’m back to pondering new ways to publish ambient, non-linear fictional spaces (as opposed to publishing a book).

Voxer and family are still the primary things going on—but small corners of attention are opening up.

So, hello. I don’t have any predictions or plans about where this goes, but this is what’s happening now and we will just see.

PS. And I see that part of this is to just get my writing chops going for some reason that I do not yet see.