Flight Of The Geo
Chapter Nine
To say we had very different plans for the year 2020 would have been the understatement of the century.
We don't usually take big risks and leaps of faith were few and far between. But that trip, that adventure of a lifetime was a calling we simply couldn’t ignore and so we leapt.
Who could have guessed that the one year we'd take all the risks the world would decide to end.
Covid-19 had taken over the world and our Grand Adventure had been centered in the cross hairs.
Boom!
It had been a slow and painful death for our big plans and we watched in horror as the virus played out seemingly in slow motion before us.
We had been helpless against the sheer force of the pandemic as it crashed over us like an enormous tidal wave, sweeping us, as well as the rest of the world, out to sea.
Forget being stranded on a desert island, we were adrift in an endless expanse of water and it felt like we were drowning.
Which way was up?
Which way to shore?
With no compass pointing the way we didn’t even know how to begin, let alone where.
We had been reduced to our baser instincts, relying purely on intuition and knee jerk reactions but those initial survival reflexes kept us afloat long enough to formulate a new plan and we immediately set about making it so.
It felt good to have a goal to reach towards, even if it was mundane micro tasks. It took our minds temporarily off the heartbreak of our Grand Adventure being canceled and we held on for dear life.
Laundry? Check.
Because who knew where the coming weeks would take us, starting as clean as possible while we had the chance seemed like a good idea.
Batteries charged? Check.
We had a fairly decent supply of Anker battery packs and made sure to plug all of them in to fully charge while we had a guaranteed supply of power.
Being plugged into shore power also meant the double 6v batteries in Little Geo were fully charging as well. Those would buy us at least an additional week of boondocking/dry camping and that was not counting what the solar panels on the roof would help draw in.
Fresh water tanks filled? Check.
Again, with so much uncertainly in this new pandemic world we had no idea what to expect or when our next water supply would be available.
Having our own massive water reserve in a world where scared humans were hoarding ridiculous things like toilet paper seemed like a smart move so we filled Little Geo's 31 gallon fresh water tank to capacity.
Black and grey tanks? Check.
Saving the best for last meant we’d be starting out as fresh as possible and with two small children, having our own toilet in virus infected world was an enormous blessing.
Anyone new to the RV lifestyle will tell you that emptying the black tank is perhaps one of the scariest prospects of traveling in an RV and we were no exception.
But I’m here to tell you, it really isn’t a big deal, if the task is executed properly that is.
Often called “poopsies” accidents can happen, especially if you're in a hurry or not paying attention.
The number one rule of RV life is SLOW DOWN.
Still, I won’t lie. The first time you pull the handle on the black tank, knowing what is waiting on the other side is a daunting task.
In the beginning we double and triple checked our connections before finally releasing the monster within.
So, wear gloves, make your connections, double check said connections, pull your lever and let it flow like a river.
And flow it does!
Honestly, the feeling of the black hose filling and the force in which it empties into the sewer tank below will make you feel like a vile human being.
But remember, everybody poops.
Plus, hang in there, redemption is coming!
The next step is sort of a cleansing of all your deepest darkest secrets. Once the angry black monster stops spewing, you close the black tank valve, effectively locking what is left behind the gates and then open the grey tank valve and let the cleansing begin!
Sure, it's “grey” water, but it’s much cleaner than “black” water and somehow in your mind it makes you feel less disgusting and you can breathe a little easier knowing the worst is behind you.
It’s funny the little tricks our minds conjure to help keep us sane.
Now that the “stinky slinky” (affectionately dubbed by some in the RV community) has been washed clean, you close your grey tank valve and carefully raise your still connected sewer hose to empty the last of the grey water before disconnecting and stowing the hose away.
Finally, hitch up Little Geo to the Pilot? Check.
Once the final task had been completed, there was nothing left to do except impatiently wait for morning to come.
We alternated between pacing while worrying, sitting while worrying, and chasing after the kids while worrying.
The bad news surrounding the pandemic was flowing worse than the black tank hose but unlike the stinky slinky, we had no real way to shut it off.
It was seemingly unstoppable and like a snowball rolling down the hill, it was gaining both size and momentum, threating to flatten anybody who stood in its way and even those that didn’t.
So far California was cracking down that hardest trying to stop the spread of Covid-19 and the mandatory shelter in place order was first in a long line of threats against the future of our little fulltime RV family.
We still had three more fully paid days on our reservation at Oasis Palms but with the threat of misdemeanor citations for breaking the shelter in place order (whether they would actually issue them was anybody’s guess) and the possibility of California closing their borders to the neighboring states, we felt compelled to get the hell out before we were trapped in.
It felt too risky to drive up the length of California to reach Oregon, so with some encouragement from Nick’s sister we decided we would head straight for the nearest state border first thing in the morning and travel up through the neighboring states instead.
And so we ran.
Or drove rather.
It was quite literally the flight of the Geo because as soon as morning finally rolled around, we buckled Atlas and Fenix into their car seats, double checked all the hitch connections to Little Geo and drove straight towards the I10 East which was the quickest, most direct route from our location straight into Arizona.
The drive would take approximately one hour and forty five minutes (real time, not travel trailer time) and then, at long last we would be able to breathe again.
No more walls closing in on us or ticking clocks counting down till lockdown.
Freedom.
Or so we hoped.
But it was a direction, in this case, literally, and just like before, we found that if we broke big things down into smaller sections, we could easily focus on achieving micro goals and then revel in our success each time we checked something off the list.
No matter how small it was.
Goal number one, get the hell out of California!
And so, with a new sense of purpose we crossed the border into Arizona with no real destination in mind.
Yet.
In retrospect, I know it was all in my head, but the second we crossed that state line, my entire body relaxed and I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me.
When the weight of all that anxiety lifted, I no longer felt trapped and claustrophobic and for a few minutes I floated in suspended bliss in the suddenly calm waters of my mind.
But the calm didn’t last long because a tidal wave of emotion was coming and I was helpless as it flooded every fiber of my being, allowing grief to take over entirely.
The realization that we had left our dream behind, dying in the hot California sun without acknowledgment or so much as a backwards glance felt like a kick to the gut.
We had just left it all behind.
Should we have tried harder? Could we have tried harder?
On the other hand, it felt like our hands were tied and our choice had already been taken from us.
What else could we have done?
I was so conflicted and it felt like I was being torn in two.
How can you feel so much and yet, feel so numb at the same time?
But the relief of crossing that invisible state line was undeniable and I knew down to my soul that we had made the right call to run, no matter how badly it hurt.
Now my mind was fixed on the road before us and the days that lay ahead.
Where would this new life take us?
It was beyond strange to be driving without any real direction now that our first micro goal had been achieved.
Flee California. Check.
But now what?
Damage control.
That was the setting our robot minds clung to in a very human bid for control.
We needed a spark. We needed a new goal, a new plan, a new direction. Besides North of course. Something. Anything!
Driving across Arizona and up the neighboring states was our way of trying to keep the dream alive but in that moment it felt like a loosing battle.
What were we doing out here? Why had we sold our home? Why had we given up an entire life for this? What the hell kind of parents drag their kids into a mess like this with absolutely no security or stability?
At least before everything fell apart, we could trick ourselves into believing the sacrifice had been worth it to live out our Grand Adventure, but now that was over and we felt like absolute failures.
Worse, we felt like absolute IRRESPONSIBLE failures who bit off more than they could chew and then life slapped us upside the head and said WAKE UP!
Well, we were awake now, our heads on a swivel, ears on high alert, listening.
Waiting.
The new awakening happened by inches, one tiny realization at a time.
Like before, we knew that God did not bring us to this moment to fail.
There is a method to the madness and for reasons we couldn’t yet understand, we were being redirected elsewhere.
We were too tangled up in emotion to understand and our minds ran in vicious circles chasing the tails of questions that couldn’t be answered.
At least not now.
But the truth was, where we saw darkness, God saw light.
Where we saw failure, God saw potential and he was not done with us yet.
As humans, we’re a bit like monkeys and we don’t want to let go of one branch before we have a hold of the next.
But right now, it felt like someone had pushed us out of a perfectly good airplane without explaining how to use the parachute.
We were free falling and we had no idea how close the earth was looming below us.
How long before impact?
So we mentally screamed until our breath ran out and then accepted our new fate with grim determination.
We were already strapped in so we may as well enjoy the ride, right?
And besides, who else is better equipped to handle life on the road, fleeing from a growing pandemic, than a couple of adventure happy humans with a home on wheels?
Home is where you park it, so lets go park it!
Somewhere, anywhere!
Walmart. That was the destination.
But hey, it was a micro goal. Baby steps, right?
Boondocking at Walmart is never anyone’s first choice so I double checked Campendium on my phone to see if there was a better option nearby.
If you’ve never heard of it before, Campendium is a useful tool that can easily help you locate many of the free camping sites that are abundant on the west coast.
And help it did!
I had been simply searching for an option better than a concrete parking lot and instead found the wakeup call that we had been praying for.
Saddle Mountain Dispersed camping.
Having never tried dispersed camping, we approached the task of navigating towards it with the utmost caution because sometimes the roads to such remote locations could be super sketch.
We were about an hour and a half from Phoenix when the long, straight country road led us off the I10 through acres of farm land before it tapered off into dry desert as far as the eye could see.
The turn off was a gravel road which we took slowly, dust billowing out behind us as we carefully drove through the middle of the sprawling desert towards an insane looking rock formation.
I mean could there BE a better place of healing?
The desert saved us again.
The fact that THIS would be our backyard for the night rekindled the fire of Adventure, coaxing it from smoldering ash into a tiny flame.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start, and if we were careful we might just keep it lit long enough to find more fuel that would transform it into an inferno.
We found a flat place on the side of the well traveled stretch of gravel road and parked Little Geo strategically in preparation for what would surely be an impressive sunset that night.
We had arrived relatively early in the afternoon after a several hour drive from Thermal California and spent the next couple of hours exploring the stunning Arizona landscape.
It was hot and dry, the sky was cloudless, blue and impossibly huge, stretching from horizon to horizon.
The hard ground was a mix of sand and rocks which crunched beneath our feet, stirring up little clouds of dust as we walked around.
The plant life was mostly made up of creosote bushes and tall grass that rustled softly, gently serenating us with the sounds of the desert when the wind blew through in tiny gusts.
We saw low lying patches of small wildflowers blooming nearby and off in the distance we could see dozens of the iconic, towering saguaro cactus.
It was stunning, awe inspiring even, and it was exactly what we needed.
We even had our own welcoming party because mere feet away from Little Geo’s front door was a rock fire ring and on one of the rocks was a lizard sunning itself in the last light of the day.
The little creature didn’t linger long, not with the wild children running around or the big red dog who would happily go for a tiny reptile snack but it was still a delight to see.
We opened the cargo hold on Little Geo and handed Atlas his Strider balance bike and he joyfully rode up and down the gravel road, delighting in his own little clouds of dust that his tires kicked up behind him.
Watching Atlas experience the simply joy of riding his bike with that stunning backdrop left our hearts overflowing.
This was it.
In what other lifetime would we have come here to this exact spot and have the opportunity to let Atlas ride his bike here of all places?
The sudden realization that maybe our Grand Adventure didn’t hinge purely on the Pacific Crest Trail was eye opening and we found ourselves tentatively looking forward to where the road might take us next.
As the sun started to dip lower in the sky, weary in more ways than one, we all crammed into Little Geo for some dinner as we eagerly waited for the sunset.
Arizona did not disappoint.
Like before, it felt like the dazzling display of colors had been made especially for us, proving once again that even the hardest of days can end with a celebration complete with fireworks.
The colors were mind blowing and watching that watercolor sky transform only made the fire within us burn that much brighter.
This was proof that our Adventure wasn’t over and we finally allowed ourselves a sliver of hope.
Ok Arizona, you have my attention. I’m listening.
The boys went down easily, worn out from the long day and all the running around our temporary back yard.
Nick and I stayed up long after the last colors left the sky and we sat out in the dark, discussing future plans.
The night sky lit up with an impressive otherworldly display as the millions of stars beamed down on us with their seemingly tiny pinpricks of starlight.
Without trees to obscure your sight line, the sky felt impossibly large, even in the dark, and we silently watched the far away mysteries spinning up above us, wondering at the meaning of it all.
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, there’s just something so magical about the desert environment.
Maybe its just me but I’m fascinated by the wide open expanse that exposes itself so freely, showing you exactly what it has to offer, or doesn’t, as the case may be.
The desert was there through some of my hardest moments in this life and I’ll always look back upon it as one of the most powerful places we’d ever traveled to, filled with magic, healing and hope.
Since we were dry camping for the night, when morning rolled around, we were already hitched and ready to continue on our journey north without too much preparation.
We stopped in Buckeye and parked at a nearby Walmart, which incidentally was the same one we had planned to boondock at the night before, so we could walk down the road a ways to Dutch Bros for some much needed coffee.
That’s another huge disadvantage to towing a travel trailer, the inability to just pop into any drive thru or parking lot.
Navigating even with our twenty foot travel trailer, which was considered small by most RV standards, took time, planning and excellent verbal directions and communication.
The passenger was responsible for finding the locations and the best route in and out.
We relied heavily on Google Maps as our eyes in the sky for a look at how large parking lots were and where all the best turn around locations were stationed.
As new RVers, we were very careful and took every precaution to avoid getting trapped somewhere we couldn’t get out of on our own.
Always have a plan B, and more importantly, an escape route.
Which brings us to this Walmart parking lot.
It was crowded and loud but we managed to find a nice pull through spot that had a little bit of shade which only made us appreciate our remote camping location the night before that much more.
That was magic. This busy parking lot with the extreme road noise and the smell of pollution was decidedly, NOT.
Still, it was Arizona and despite the early hour, it was heating up fast so we couldn’t leave Crixus in the car even for a quick coffee run.
Naturally, the Dutch Bros was located on the other side of the four lane busy road so we ended up having to walk a couple blocks down before we could find a crosswalk to safely cross to the other side.
Why did the humans cross the road? To get to the Dutch Bros!
We love us some Dutch Bros so the walk on hot concrete surrounded by traffic noise was well worth the delicious caffeinated prize at the end.
Coffees all around!
Well, the boys got Not-So-Hots and even Crixus got a happy surprise when they handed us a Pup-a-Chino which was whipped cream covered dog bones in a cup.
Crixus eagerly polished off his tasty treat within minutes, his big chocolate eyes silently begging for seconds.
Fueled up on caffeine (with a side of chaos) we loaded up once more, this time to find fuel for the Pilot before we continued on.
While the Pilot was racking up the dollar signs, we took advantage of our location and used the gas station window washers to clean most of the desert dust off the vehicle windows.
Little Geo had this thick layer of dead bugs smeared all over the windshield, which also happened to be our bedroom window, so it got a much needed scrub from Atlas who kindly helped clean all the tiny dried corpses off.
As we drove away from Buckeye and towards Flagstaff, I watched out the window as we passed by acres and acres of nothing but Saguaro Cactus.
I’d never seen so many in one place before! They were everywhere! And much like the Joshua Tree, no two of these giant desert dwellers were alike.
Native to the Sonoran Desert, it’s estimated that the average lifespan of Saguaro Cactus ranges between one hundred to two hundred years old or beyond!
Saguaro Cactus are very slow growing and they say that a plant less than two inches tall could be ten years old! That meant that the ones that had singular arms were anywhere between fifty to seventy five years of age, and any that had multiple arms were likely over a hundred years old!
So the thousands that were visible to us now had to be ancient based on their size alone.
The fact that a plant like that could survive in a landscape so unforgiving was awe inspiring to me. If they can thrive despite all the odds, what the hell was our problem?
As we drove, the terrain changed, transforming from an enormous sea of cactus into grass covered prairies stretching endlessly towards the horizon.
Having never been to Arizona before, I was blown away with the changing landscape.
I’ll admit it, I was prejudiced and had apparently learned nothing from the California Desert.
Before when people spoke of Arizona my mind would immediately conjure images of desolation, nothingness and heat, a stark contrast to this vibrant, thriving landscape.
As we neared Flagstaff the environment changed yet again, this time into thick forests and towering snow covered mountain peaks.
I don’t know what I was expecting but it was not THIS.
Normally, the drive would have only taken us just under three hours to complete, but we were living on travel trailer time where everything took longer, so in reality we’d been on the road for closer to four hours by the time we arrived in Flagstaff.
And it was snowing! In Arizona! Talk about throwing my preconceived notions out the window!
The micro goals were coming to us much easier by that point and we planned to boondock at a local Cracker Barrel for the night.
Just before the exit though, I looked on Campendium and found a better boondocking option close by that would once again take us away from civilization to a more remote location.
Walnut Canyon Dispersed Camping.
Dispersed camping for the win, again!
The turn off from the freeway was a nicely paved road which led us through the tall trees and further into the wilderness.
Turning left onto a dirt road, our destination for the night, or so we hoped, was nearly upon us.
After our last dispersed camping experience, we went into this one feeling much more confident but quickly discovered first hand that there are technical levels to remote camp sites.
The last one was an easy one out of ten. It easy to get to, easy to get out of, and a ten as far as overall beauty goes.
Only time would tell how tonight’s location would rank.
We drove down the dirt road once and didn’t see any suitable, more importantly, available sites so we looped back around and drove through one more time hoping to spot an open site, this time a little less critically.
Second times the charm!
It was difficult to fully see the site from the road, so I jumped out of the pilot and walked the dirt road turn off to get a better idea of the location and if we could actually get into it.
The road leading to the camp site was deeply rutted and if not for the AWD on the Pilot and the off road package on Little Geo, we never would have made it in, let alone back out again.
This was maybe a three or a four out of ten on the technical scale, not as easy to get into and we could only guess what the return trip out would be like. Still, the view had promise, and the sun would be setting soon so we had high hopes.
Carefully and slowly, with me waving him in, Nick inched the Pilot down the hard grooves in the road left by the last heavy rain and finally pulled into the wide open camping site.
Dispersed camping indeed. We could have fit a hundred Little Geo’s in that huge area.
It was perfect!
Feeling rather pleased by yet another spectacular boondocking site that was not a concrete parking lot, we bundled up and set off to explore our new surroundings for the night.
We were at a much higher elevation so it was COLD!
Having grown accustomed to the hot dry desert air, the icy wind felt especially cold as it whipped at our hair and clothes, sending shivers down our spines.
But it was far too beautiful not to explore so we braced ourselves and moved forward into the wind.
Atlas road his Strider balance bike down the dirt road, stopping to play in a nearby puddle before moving onwards.
This was what it was all about.
It was such a healing balm to find ourselves in this remote location away from it all, watching Atlas play like the world hadn’t just imploded in on itself.
Out here, we could easily forget the struggles of life and the real reason we found ourselves out here to begin with. At the moment it was easy to believe that we had chosen this new adventure and it almost felt like we had planned it out ourselves.
No, this wasn’t THE plan, but it was A plan, with a beautiful outcome so far and we were excited to see where we’d end up next.
What would it hurt to let ourselves believe the fantasy for a little longer?
So we leaned in and fully embraced the magic of the moment.
The temperature was dropping quickly as the sun slowly started to set behind the nearby snow covered mountains and we turned, red nosed and sniffly, back towards the warmth of Little Geo for dinner.
Propane heater blasting, we fired up the propane stove top to boil some water to rehydrate some freeze dried Mountain House Beef Stroganoff for dinner.
It was pretty tasty, really filling, and more importantly, it was warm.
We layered the boys up in their warmest clothes and crawled into our beds, hoping against hope that tonight would be the night that Fenix would finally sleep.
It was exhausting facing the challenges of adult life as it was, not to mention this adventure of uncertain chaos, but doing it while running on mere hours of severely broken up sleep?
It was crippling.
Please, PLEASE sleep baby.
An incoming weather alert popped up before we managed to fall asleep and we learned that a big storm was headed for us in the morning.
That meant rain.
Rain plus deep tire tracks in a dirt road equals bad news in an already chaos filled adventure.
Hard pass.
With our only exit under threat, we decided to get an early start and planned to head out first thing in the morning, hopefully well before the rainstorm arrived.
Night had truly fallen now, signaling the end of our second day of this unexpected adventure and we found ourselves in near darkness once again.
We felt impossibly small under the enormous starlit sky and our minds wandered, analyzing the events of the past while worrying about the future.
Out here there were no lights, no distractions and no excuses to hide behind.
It was raw and real, serene and wild and it stripped everything down to its most basic level.
Who were we and why?
What was the meaning of it all?
In the dark nature was at its purest, both innocent and deadly.
Much like life itself, it offered no protection or pretense and there were no guarantees.
It was vulnerability illuminated by moonlight.
But we were not in the dark, not entirely anyway.
In our minds we were huddled together, warming our hands by the tiny flame that we had managed to rekindle in the hot Arizona desert.
The flickering light was enough to keep the darkness at bay, giving hope a chance to grow.
We could do this.
And we knew down to our soul that if God brought us TO it, he would bring us THROUGH IT.
So while life might have thrown us a curveball that knocked us down, we knew that were far from out.
We WOULD do this.
This unexpected detour was a mere blip on the long road of life that lay before us and the possibilities were endless for were we might end up next.
Feeling the warmth of that eternal everglow, we sank into unconsciousness slowly, listening to the sound of the icy wind whistling through the nearby trees, wondering where the road would take us tomorrow.
