A Series Of Goodbyes

Chapter Three

Somehow, it felt like a lifetime had passed since we left our first home and life as we knew it behind us but in reality it had only been less than a week.

So much had changed in such a short time and we felt like entirely different people. How could five days feel so insignificant and yet, be so completely life altering at the same time?

The drive from Oregon had taken us exactly five days and our arrival in La Mesa marked the halfway point of our journey exactly as we had an additional five days ahead of us in Sunny San Diego.

We were hovering on the edge of adventure and in mere days we would make the drive to the Mexico border and the Pacific Crest Trail Southern Terminus where our Grand Adventure would officially began.

We had family flying in from Oregon and Washington for a mini family reunion of sorts where we would be staying in an Airbnb we had rented together and we were really looking forward to taking a break from life on the road to play tourist with them.

Our little getaway kicked off with a couple of much needed lazy days, where we just hung out with family, catching up after a long time apart.

Atlas and Fenix finally got to meet their Great Grandma, Aunt and Cousin who live in San Diego. It was actually in front of their house that we were able park Little Geo for the duration of our visit which was a huge blessing and we are forever thankful to them for that.

We finally got to take our first showers in five days and caught up on some much needed sleep.

Feeling human once more, we did some basic chores like laundry and cleaning the insane amount of car seat crumbs that Atlas and Fenix had generously sprinkled all over their car seats and into every other crack within reach and even more inexplicably so far out of reach we couldn’t figure out exactly how they’d managed it.

It’s like an art form, really.

And you know what pairs really well with crumbs? Dog hair! Lots and lots of dog hair.

Because we had taken Crixus from the cold, rainy Oregon weather and straight into sunny, warm California weather with no time to adjust, his poor body was justifiably confused. As a result, he was blowing out his coat something fierce!

Every time we rolled down the windows to air out the Pilot, an angry tornado of dog hair spiraled around the car in a desperate attempt to escape. They don’t call them German Shedders for no reason.

Seriously, if we had a cent for each and every crumb and dog hair that we cleaned out of the Pilot after just five days on the road, we’d be filthy (hairy and crummy) rich.

On the third day of our vacation getaway it was officially time to play tourist and the first thing on our list was visiting the beautiful beaches of Coronado.

With the addition of Nick’s parents, his sister, her husband and our adorable three year old nephew, the four of us became a traveling party of nine, plus Crixus and it was quite the process getting everyone packed, loaded and beach ready.

We had to brave the mad freeway traffic once again, this time carpooling with two cars before crossing the rather terrifying Coronado Bridge and then we saw it at last. The ocean was shining bright in the distance and the pull was undeniable, like a siren serenading us towards the sparkling shoreline.

Coronado was absolutely beautiful and they call it The Crown City for good reason. The long white sand beaches stretched out for miles before us, bordered by some pretty fancy and very expensive looking hotels. This was a tourist paradise, evidenced by the fact that parking was near impossible to find, but find it we did. Eventually.

The kids adored playing in the sand, digging holes and watching the waves fill in all their hard work far quicker than the time it had taken them to dig it out.

Their eyes would light up as the water retreated and they would begin again, battling for time against the waves. The ocean always won but they didn’t mind a bit and after awhile they stopped digging and just stood in the hole waiting for the waves to crash around their feet instead.

Unfortunately, our visit was cut far shorter than we wanted when the beach patrol showed up to crash our party. We do like our chaos after all and no adventure of ours would be complete without it.

There we were having the time of our lives, the kids playing in the sand and Crixus happily splashing in the crashing surf, when they told us in no uncertain terms that our big red beach buddy was not allowed and that we had to go.

Justifiably confused since none of us had ever been to a beach that didn't allow dogs before, we discovered that in a classic tourist move, we had neglected to read the signs leading into the beach.

NO DOGS ALLOWED.

We made a rather hasty retreat after being offered a second chance for beach redemption at a dog friendly location further north, aptly named Dog Beach. It was absolutely dog paradise because it was essentially a fence free dog park, on a beach.

However, once we arrived, we quickly realized that it was not going to work for us because while it was very dog friendly, it was NOT knee high kid friendly.

Not surprisingly, there were loose dogs everywhere and many of them had no boundaries so they were rushing up to the kids and getting into their faces which was very concerning to everyone involved, except the loose dog’s owners of course.

As a result, Crixus was in full protection mode and was not digging the other dogs close proximity to his family so we scrapped the beach redemption idea and decided to find some other way to spend the day.

We managed to find a nice shady place to park near the waterfront where we were able to leave Crixus in the car while we grabbed some lunch followed by some Cold Stone ice cream cones for desert.

It was a hot day so the kids were soon sticky blue messes with ice cream dripping all over their faces and hands as it melted quicker than they could eat it.

As they finished off their ice cream, we bought tickets and took a quick ride on the Coronado ferry around the bay. We had front row seats on the deck with pretty awesome views as we passed by the giant city buildings.

The wind from the moving ferry felt so nice as the California sun beat down on us but by the time the boat turned around, the kids were chilled after their ice cream treats, so we rode inside the cabin for the return trip back to the pier.

On impulse, for the ultimate tourist experience, we rented a double surrey which is a six person, four wheel bike that had four sets of pedals. Somehow we managed to squeeze the two oldest boys in the front kids seat, three adults in the second row of seats, and two adults in the third row of seats. Plus, I had one year old very crabby Fenix front facing in my trusty Ergo Baby carrier for hands free biking. He was not impressed.

Since we had nowhere near enough room for the sixth and final adult, not to mention Crixus, we also rented a single bike that Nick rode while Crixus ran beside him.

We biked around the city laughing like crazy people as we tried to navigate the busy streets of Coronado in our pedaling clown car. I’m sure we made quite the spectacle as we made our hilarious attempt to pedal in tandem but we were having far too much fun to care.

On the fourth and final day of playing tourist we drove out to the world famous San Diego Zoo and in true California fashion, it was another blue sky, hot sunny kind of day. It was perfect zoo weather but it actually ended up throwing a pretty massive wrench in our plans.

We had originally planned to take Crixus to a doggy day care somewhere in the city while we visited the zoo but in all the chaos of moving day we had neglected to get him up to date on his Bordetella vaccine, which is a requirement for all doggy day care and boarding facilities.

With no other options, we headed to the Zoo with Crixus riding happily in the back of the Pilot.

The weather was cool enough parked in the shade so we could safely leave him in the car for the first part of the morning, but as afternoon quickly approached, we knew the clock was ticking and we were nowhere near finished with the massive Zoo.

We took turns checking on Crixus and every half hour or so one of us would navigate our way out of the immense zoo and across the gigantic parking lot to make sure our furry companion was safe and comfortable in the parked car.

At some point in the day, everyone stopped for lunch so I took advantage of the down time to make the great journey back to the car once more. Crixus seemed comfortable enough and had plenty of water but the shade was starting to disappear as the afternoon sun started to rise higher in the sky.

The car was warming up too quickly now and I decided I couldn’t leave him safely in the car anymore, at least not without the all the windows and doors open to let the fresh air inside. About that same time is when I noticed two police cars parked just a few spaces over, apparently it was their lunch time too, and their presence solidified my decision to stay.

So I did what anyone in my situation would do, I lowered all the windows, popped the back hatch of the Pilot, crawled in the back with Crixus, lay down using him as my big fluffy pillow and took a nap.

That night, we were all pretty well drained from exposure to the endless sunshine, beyond exhausted from the many miles we had walked around the Zoo.

Tomorrow was the official start of the Grand Adventure, the day we’d drive Nick out to Campo, at the Mexico border and leave him there so he could begin his 2,650 mile hike to Canada. No pressure, right?

After getting everything washed, organized and packed, finding sleep was difficult that night. We were wound pretty tight with anticipation and a touch of apprehension, wondering what lay in wait for us tomorrow and especially the days to follow.

It began as a distant dream and the fact it was actually happening TODAY, not someday felt so surreal and we were having trouble wrapping our heads around it. It’s kind of like meeting a celebrity for the first time, you work the moment up so much in your mind that your brain struggles to comprehend that its really happening. Like, is this real life?

The atmosphere in the car felt heavy and charged and there we were, hearts pounding, adrenaline pumping, driving to the Mexico Border to see this dream finally realized after so many years of planning and hoping.

We were originally introduced to the Pacific Crest Trail back in 2014 when we watched the movie Wild. The idea of hiking a whopping 2,650 miles from Mexico all the way to Canada seemed like an insurmountable task but upon further research we discovered that not only was it achievable, it was also a VERY popular trail that thousands hiked every year.

Unable to shake the idea of such an achievement Nick started dreaming about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail but when we talked about it, it was always someday, certainly not today because we had a baby on the way.

While on parental leave after the birth of Atlas, we discovered the land of YouTube thru hikers and we binged episode after episode, learning all we could.

Years passed and the pull Nick felt towards the PCT only got stronger with each new trail we hiked and before long he was buying backpacking gear and testing the waters with solo section hikes.

Then along came baby boy number two and the dream was pushed back once again.

On average, hiking the 2,650 mile trail took anywhere between four to six months and with two small kids it seemed like an impossibility. When he hiked it someday, it would be after the kids were grown, some eighteen years down the line. But the more we talked about it, the more unfair an eighteen year wait seemed. There had to be a way for him to hike the trail before he was in his fifties.

And that’s when the plan was born. I threw my crazy idea out there and popped the question.

What if.

And now here we were, in California standing next to the border wall that separated us from Mexico. We poked our hands through the cracks the fence and made it official. Next stop, Canada!

The Pacific Crest Trail Southern Terminus is situated on the top of a small hill with a great view looking down on the valley below. All ten of us hiked the tiny summit, including Nick’s 85 year old Grandma who was determined not to miss this moment.

The love and support surrounding us, especially Nick, was overwhelming as we all gathered around to touch the wooden monument, one after another.

It was real. We were here. This was happening.

The next task would not be an easy one. As the minutes ticked away the air around me felt charged and fragile somehow and I thought I might fracture and break as my heart thundered away in my chest. If I was feeling this much, what must Nick be going through, here on the precipice of perhaps the greatest adventure of his life.

I wondered how on earth I could say goodbye to my husband in this place. How could I drive away and leave him here, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but his backpack on his back? And yet, that’s exactly what I would be doing in just a few minutes.

The look on Nick’s face as he signed the trail sign in book revealed a whirlwind of emotion as he struggled to accept that his dream was actively being realized.

The first round of goodbyes took quite a bit of time as there were a lot of us there to see Nick off and I was not the only one feeling the emotionally charged sendoff.

I watched silently as he bid a tearful farewell to each and every member of our family in an emotional series of goodbyes, dreading when it was my turn because I wasn’t ready. Certainly not now and maybe not ever.

Nick kissed Atlas and Fenix and said a few choked words to each of them, even knowing he would see them in three days time didn’t ease the overwhelming heartbreak of leaving them behind to head out on trail, all alone.

Once the boys were safely buckled into their car seats with family keeping a close eye on them it was suddenly my turn for the last goodbye. Stalling for time, I slowly walked Nick to the trailhead without speaking a word.

What could I say in a moment like this? I wanted to say something profound but every time I tried, my voice quivered and broke. I wanted to send him off with confidence, with no doubt in his mind that HE could do this, but especially that I could do this. Me melting into a puddle of tears didn’t exactly convey that message so I struggled, trying in vain to keep it together.

We’ve always had this connection that went deeper than mere words and mercifully in this moment we knew exactly what the other was feeling, what we each wanted to say and no words were needed initially.

We were both happy and sad, heartbroken and delighted because we had given up so much to be standing here in this exact spot and words could never do this moment justice.

Eventually we managed to say our goodbyes and we clung to each other for a long time after, trying and failing to hold back the torrent of tears that threatened.

One last word, one final kiss and Nick turned his back to me and took his first steps on the Pacific Crest Trail and towards his destiny.

He paused and turned back once to flash me a thumbs up almost as if he needed one last, LAST glimpse of me to send me one last hopeful, happy signal to make his next step forward possible.

I watched him get smaller and smaller as he disappeared deeper into the sagebrush and then I blinked and he was gone entirely.

Heaving a great sobbing breath, I tried to steady myself as I turned away from the trail head and walked slowly back to the car and to our beautiful boys, the rocks crunching loudly beneath my feet.

We had one more night in the Airbnb before our family flew back to their home states so the plan was for me, Atlas, Fenix and Crixus to head back with everyone to the vacation rental for one final night.

In the morning, I’d hitch up Little Geo and take the hour and a half drive to the RV park near Julian that would be home for the next few days while Nick hiked on the Pacific Crest Trail towards us.

It felt strange driving away from the border, knowing I was leaving Nick out there all alone, hiking in the middle of nowhere. As I drove, I kept looking to see if I could catch a glimpse of him but he had seemingly been swallowed whole by the vast desert landscape.

As I drove, the dark angry clouds that had been dancing overhead all morning suddenly opened up and let loose in a fierce rainstorm that seemed to echo my inner feelings. It was as if the sky could feel the depth of my sadness and was crying with me.

It rained so hard that driving was touch and go and even with the windshield wipers going full blast I struggled to make out the lines on the road. If it was this bad in the safety and warmth of the car, how hard was Nick getting hit out there with no shelter?

We wouldn’t find out until much later that this rainstorm was not only just the beginning, it was more than that, it was an omen, a warning, a sign of things to come and we had no idea.

Ready or not, morning came all too soon and I found myself standing in front of Little Geo hitching up once again. It was like reuniting with an old friend. Hello house. Hello wildly unprepared human.

My Father-in-Law, perhaps the greatest, kindest man in existence offered to help me hitch up and drive out of the terrifying city with its insane traffic and take me and the boys all the way to the RV park just east of Julian.

We said our goodbyes to our beloved resident San Diego family and thanked Nick’s Grandma once again for letting us park Little Geo in front of her house for the last five days.

It wasn’t just my Father-in-Law driving with us to Julian, my Mother-in-Law, Sister-in-law, Brother-in-Law and my beautiful nephew were all making the journey in their rental car to help get Me, Atlas, and Fenix set up at what would be our new home for the next week.

I am forever thankful to them for making the trip with me, their love and support helped see me through an otherwise very challenging time. They were an integral part of our story and without them there at the end, the experience wouldn't have been complete.

The drive to Julian went smooth and was uneventful for the most part, until we turned to the east and drove towards the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. The once straight road suddenly started twisting in a series of hair raising turns on a narrow road, next to a steep cliffside that left me clutching the arm rest in a white knuckle death grip.

My Father-in-Law cheerfully drove, teasing me endlessly over my fear of heights as we rounded corner after corner while Little Geo's hitch groaned and screeched in a symphony of grinding metal that still haunts me to this day.

Finally, the wild turns came to an end and the road straightened out once again as we neared our destination.

I had tried to book a site for the Stagecoach Trails RV Park the night before but had been unable to reach anyone by phone to confirm my reservation. I called several times on the drive down as well but still couldn’t get through so I hoped for the best.

Naturally, the front office was closed by the time we got there but almost the entire RV park was empty so even if my reservation hadn’t gone through, they had more than enough room for us and I was able to relax a little.

Luckily, they had instructions posted to the front of the building for how to self check in and where to park should we arrive after hours. The directions seemed straightforward enough and we easily parked in one of the recommended pull through sites.

The kids ran around, delighted by desert landscape while everyone else worked together to get Little Geo unhitched, leveled and hooked up to water and electricity.

And then it was time for the last goodbye in a long series of goodbyes.

I had been doing fine and really thought I could keep it together long enough for them to leave before letting myself fall apart completely.

But as we all stood around, stalling for time, knowing what was coming, the desert air suddenly shifted and I knew it was time and I was not prepared for how hard this last goodbye to my In-Laws would hit me.

The term In-Law forces a relationship through marriage and it automatically creates a divide between families, keeping the others at arms length. For most people anyway, but we are not most people.

I didn’t want the kind of space that term usually enforced, especially in this moment. To me, these beautiful humans, my Father-in-Law, Mother-in-Law, Sister-in-Law, Brother-in-Law and nephew were just as much mine as if I had been born into their family instead of married into it.

Saying goodbye to MY family didn’t just hit me, it flattened me, it gutted me and it literally brought me to my knees.

We hugged and hugged again and said that tearful last goodbye.

As they drove away, it took every ounce of strength I had not to chase after them and beg them to take us with them.

Don’t leave us here alone!

I stood there with one year old Fenix on my hip and four year Atlas clinging to my leg, with silent tears rolling down my face watching them go.

Time slowed almost to a halt and it felt like I was watching in slow motion as they shrunk into the distance, the desert dust billowing out behind their rental car, obscuring them from my view entirely.

And just like that we were alone and the silence of the desert settled over me like a heavy blanket.

Atlas looked up and saw the grief etched into my expression and giant tears welled up in his eyes as his little heart broke for his Mama’s sadness.

Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard and here I was for the third time in a week bawling my eyes out, baring my soul to the world as everything I knew seemingly crumbled around me. It was too much and not enough at the same time and I couldn’t breathe. My heart hadn’t just broken, it shattered and I dropped to my knees unable to stand up to the weight of it all as the sadness pressed down upon me.

In that moment I couldn’t remember why I was there or how we could have chosen this new life that hurt so much.

The series of goodbyes was complete and I struggled in vain to make sense of it all. I had no cell service and I was entirely alone with nothing but the desert for company because, as far as I could tell, there were no other humans for miles around. I was nobody with nothing stranded in absolute isolation in the middle of nowhere, adrift in a sea of despair, spiraling wildly out of control.

But we did not sacrifice everything for me to fail in this moment. Change is never easy, growing hurts and this was the cost of freedom, losing the known and trading it for the unknown.

I looked down at Atlas and Fenix who looked back up at me with nothing but love and trust shining in their eyes and I immediately felt braver. We could do this. I could do this. No, I would do this.

I took my first step in our new backyard feeling a little like a baby learning to walk, shaky at first, uncertain and wobbly. I walked until each movement became more purposeful, powerful and deliberate. I was not a victim, this had not been done to me, it was a choice, it was MY choice, and I owned it in that moment.

I chose every single emotion I was feeling, each more devastating and heart wrenching than the last. I chose feeling because it meant I was truly living, not numb, going trough the motions like a robot. I chose adventure. I chose chaos. I chose this.

In a lot of ways, my journey here was a parallel to Nick’s as he hiked on the Pacific Crest Trail towards us. We had both been left in the desert to fend for ourselves with no choice but to adapt as we navigated this new life without a guidebook, trying to find meaning in the dark.

Rising from the ashes of surrender I embraced the unknown with my boys by my side, suddenly thankful for the sacrifice we had made to bring us here for this exact moment. I looked up and watched as the sky lit up in the most brilliant sunset I had ever seen.

It was such a spectacular array of colors that it seemed like maybe God had made the dazzling display especially for me in this moment of emotional turmoil. It felt like a thank you and a promise all rolled into one.

Today is hard, tomorrow will be better and the best is yet to come.