The Calm Before The Storm

Chapter Four

Years ago if someone had told me I would fall in love with the desert after leaving lush green Oregon behind I’d have laughed them out of the room.

I’m strictly a fall and winter kind of person, I tolerate spring and detest summer. I prefer layers, warm blankets and hot coffee, all things you don’t usually think of when you hear the word desert.

The thought of that arid environment is synonyms with heat and it immediately conjures images of hostile rattling reptiles, dust and sand, hot blasting rays of sunshine and prickly plants that are built to survive a waterless landscape.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that it was so much more than that. I won’t bother denying it now, because it is true, I did fall in love with the desert. At the right time of year of course.

There was something so calming and peaceful about the endless dry landscape that surrounded us.

The air was refreshing, crisp and clean despite being hot, and it smelled sweet somehow, like a newborn baby in nature form. It was the smell of rebirth as the desert plants, rooted firmly in the dry ground, soaked up the morning dew in preparation for the long hot day ahead.

There were numerous desert dwelling plant species around but my favorite was the Ocotillo with its many long stick-like branches that stretched upward so high before ending with bright red tufts on their tips.

The Teddy Bear Cholla was particularly unforgettable because while it looked soft and fluffy, it was actually stabby and fierce. I learned later that its often called the Jumping Cholla because the joint sections of the cactus broke off easily, seeming to jump out and grab onto anything within reach, something I got to experience first hand.

The sky stretched out endlessly above me, periodically broken up by the most unreal looking white clouds. When the sun went down, the limitless expanse of blue would transform into something impossible and a brilliant display of colors would streak through the sky in the most breathtaking sunsets I’d ever seen.

When night descended, the moonlight stripped the landscape of all color, transforming it into a black and grey alien world. Overhead, a galaxy of stars too numerous to count would gradually become visible, painting the once vibrant desert in a soft silver glow.

The nocturnal creatures would come out and scavenge by the light of the moon as the symphony of insects began serenading each other in the darkness and somewhere off in the distance the sound of wolves howling from the neighboring wolf sanctuary would pierce the crisp night air.

As night faded into dawn, every noise became more purposeful, like it had been planned out well in advance, executed at the exact right moment as if to conserve maximum energy.

The quiet that followed spoke to my soul and I thought I could easily lose myself in the silence here, thinking some of my most profound thoughts.

But I was a mother with two young children living in a twenty foot travel trailer and the silence never lasted long.

There’s always a give and take in life, it isn’t possible to have it all and the scales must always be balanced. So I gave up the quiet and the calm but in return I got a whole lot of magic.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, watching the world through a child’s eyes makes everything new again. Their ability to see all the things our adult eyes just gloss over brings new life to the mundane. They see potential.

Their little minds can turn sidewalk cracks into canyons, puddles transform into great lakes, rocks become boulders and the desert landscape becomes the worlds biggest sandbox filled with tiny treasures just waiting to be excavated.

Here Atlas and Fenix could use their bodies in new ways while their minds invented new adventures among this sea of sagebrush and creosote. There were new smells that they had never smelled, new sights they had never seen and and all of it was theirs for the taking. This was freedom.

If the lack of quiet in a nearly silent desert meant their overwhelming joy then it was a good trade and I reveled in their discovery of this strange new world around us.

The Sprawling Stagecoach Trails RV Park was absolute perfection in desert form, set in the picturesque Colorado Desert which is a smaller subdivision of the Sonoran Desert in California. It was situated to the east of Julian, in the middle of nowhere, just on the border of Anza Borrego State Park.

It took me completely by surprise how quickly I felt comfortable in the peaceful isolation. Even with the chaos of chasing two kids who were moving in opposite directions with opposite intentions I felt the calm seeping into my soul and my heart started to knit itself back together again.

My heart had shattered too many times in such short time and I knew that I’d never be able to rebuild it the same way because I was no longer the same person but the magic of this desert was a solid starting point.

Even knowing that I’d never be exactly whole again didn’t trouble me as much as it should because it meant that a piece of me would always be here in the birth place of our Grand Adventure and I was satisfied with that knowledge.

I pretty much had the entire RV Park to myself and Little Geo was parked in one of the many pull through sites right in the middle of the massive area with breath taking views out every window.

Much to my delight, there was a bathroom facility complete with laundry just a few spaces over. Upon entry, I discovered that the interior was pristine and I was overjoyed to see the row of showers, sparkling and clean, beckoning me towards glorious cleanliness.

Honestly, as tempting as it was, I was too afraid to attempt a much needed shower alone with two kids.

All I could picture in my mind was Fenix crawling out from under the shower stall door and me, soapy and dripping wet, streaking across the desert after him in my birthday suit in a desperate effort to capture him before he escaped to become a true wild child forever.

That’s the thing about Fenix, he might have been only one, but he was absolutely FEARLESS and always ready for adventure, with or without me. He started walking just six days after he turned ten months and he’s been on the move ever since. Or run, rather. He’s a look ma, no hands, full speed ahead kind of guy. Keeping Fenix alive is a fulltime job even in the best of circumstances and here I was alone, in the middle of the California High Desert with about a million things to protect a stubborn, wildling daredevil from.

Atlas is the opposite. He was a four year old firstborn in a long line of firstborns and he preferred a more calculated approach to life. He’s a thinker and a planner and we call him our little scientist because he likes to observe first and then figure out a way to get involved without getting too messy. He thinks big thoughts and asks even bigger questions, trying to figure out the meaning of life. Unlike his brother, he would never try to escape while I showered and he eagerly listened to my warnings about the dangerous desert landscape around us.

I often joke about the chaos of raising a perfectionist alongside a wrecking ball because if that isn’t a recipe for parenting chaos, I really don’t know what is.

So, unfortunately for me, a shower was off the list for now, which meant that I’d have to wait to get clean until Nick hiked down to us in two days. In the meantime I just piled my dirty hair into a messy bun on top of my head and made do by wetting a washcloth in my tiny RV sink to wipe the desert dust off our bodies.

Like us, our German Shepherd, Crixus seemed thrilled by our new surroundings and he looked forward each and every time we left Little Geo to explore. There were so many smells and so little time!

Crixus was so large that any downtime we spent in the travel trailer usually meant me tripping over him so I started tying him outside so he could get some fresh air and I could attempt to keep the boys from getting any head injuries as they ping ponged around Little Geo without interference.

Much like his fearless human little brother, Crixus also refused to heed my warnings about the less than friendly landscape and tried to pass his time outside by chasing after and attempting to eat the resident desert pollinators.

There were tiny blue wildflower bushes growing low to the ground all around our camp spot and the little bees were minding their own business, hard at work when along came a big red dog who was apparently intolerant to their buzzing noises and in need of a spicy snack.

If it isn’t one thing, its always another.

The boys and I explored the morning after we arrived and the playground area quickly became their new favorite place. It had concrete tunnels for them to crawl through, stacked tires to climb and toy trucks to dig in the sand with.

They had found heaven on earth and once we left Little Geo that first day, it was near impossible to get them to return. They loved every inch of their new backyard but especially the play area.

I had only just begun to settle in to my new normal just one day after arriving when the weather started to take a turn for the worse and the once blue sky transformed into a rather menacing shade of black.

This was the calm before the storm and as the morning went on, the angry looking clouds grew impossibly darker and started to rumble loudly, threatening to unleash hell upon me at any second.

As promised, the sky released that angry energy moments later and it did not hold back. They say when it rains, it pours but this was something else entirely and I had never seen rain like this in my entire life which was saying something considering my home state was wet, rainy Oregon.

The boys and I huddled inside our home on wheels listening as the rain pounded down on Little Geo in an almost violent attack on the laminate roof. I’d never been more thankful for four walls and a roof overhead than I was in that moment.

We were dry, safe and warm but I couldn’t help but wonder how Nick was holding up with nothing but a tent for protection out there in that torrential downpour.

The rain only got heavier with time and with it my worry over Nick’s situation grew. If I could make it just four miles up the road I’d be able to get cell service and could at least check the weather report and send a text out, hoping he had signal at his higher elevation and could reply.

Deciding to brave the storm, I dashed out in the deluge to load the boys into the Pilot one at a time and I was drenched to the bone in seconds. This was next level rain and there was absolutely no end in sight.

Even with the wipers going full blast I struggled to see the road ahead of me and I hadn’t made it even two miles from the RV Park before my desperate dash for cell phone coverage came to a sudden and screeching halt.

The road before me was gone and in its place was a raging river that hadn’t been there just hours before.

My adrenaline spiked and every alarm bell in my brain started screaming at the sight of the rising water ahead. Danger! This was not a good idea! I should not be out here!

I was stopped in the middle of the road, frozen in place as the water poured from the sky overhead and I suddenly recalled the warning my Father-in-Law had mentioned in passing on the drive down the day before.

This was flash flood territory and the churning chocolate water on the road ahead was concrete proof that I was out in the middle of storm that could go from bad to worse in a matter of seconds.

Going with my instincts, my desire for cell signal felt inconsequential now that I found myself face to face with such danger and I decided it was far safer and much smarter to return to the protection of Little Geo.

I turned the Pilot around and drove back towards Stagecoach Trails to regroup, feeling a new sense of determination.

My adrenaline spiked again and my heart dropped when I pulled up to the entrance of the RV Park and found that it had been swallowed whole and a brand new lake now lay between me and the shelter of my home on wheels.

Every second counted out here and I was suddenly out of options, stranded on this lonely stretch of road, stalled on a newborn island in the middle of a desert as the sky waged war on the earth around me.

I felt betrayed, where had my peaceful desert gone? This was no longer a place of calm healing, this was madness!

My heart was pounding as I paused at the edge of the rising water, trying to work up the courage to drive through it. I really had no choice now, I would have to cross one flood zone or the other and the one before me seemed to be the lesser of two evils with the promise of home just on the other side.

By contrast, I didn’t know what lay in wait behind me or how much worse it could get out there if I turned back towards cell signal and so my decision was made.

Taking a deep breath, I gripped the wheel and plunged forward into the abyss, rooster tails flying out behind me. I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath until I made it through safely to the other side when I exhaled a loud ragged breath.

It was such a relief to pull up next to Little Geo again and I prayed that Nick was hunkered down in his tent or somewhere safe from the storm that continued to rage overhead because I was trapped here for the foreseeable future with no way out.

The rain continued into early afternoon, unrelenting and fierce as it pounded down upon us. I watched out the window through a veil of anxiety as the gravel parking lot transformed into a series of tiny rivers as the water fell from the sky faster than the ground could absorb it.

The sound of the rain was too much for Fenix who succumbed to the white noise first, drifting off to sleep, followed quickly by Atlas which about shocked the life out of me. Both boys were napping at the same time? Unheard of! Absurd!

I was sandwiched between Atlas and the wall in the double master bed with Fenix sound asleep on top of me. It had been a rough night and a stressful morning, so with no where to go and nothing to do I followed them into dreamland, lulled to sleep by the sound of the rain as it continued to batter our rooftop.

Our naptime bliss was rudely interrupted by an unexpected pounding on Little Geo’s front door. I was still half asleep, blinking groggily at the door, trying to make sense of the noise I was hearing. I carefully eased myself out from under the still sleeping Fenix, cursing the unanticipated and extremely unwelcome visitor back to hell where they clearly came from.

Nobody wakes my king of colic baby and lives to tell the tale so this had better be good.

My fury quickly washed away at the sight of a half drowned woman standing out in the pouring rain glaring up at me, fist still raised, mid knock.

For the life of me, my sleep addled brain couldn’t comprehend why she was standing there, waterlogged and dripping wet, speaking words my brain refused to make sense of.

Fenix suddenly cried out behind me, awake despite my all my sneaking and my sleep fog cleared enough to finally understand what this strange visitor was saying to me.

The good news was that I finally had the answer to the lingering question about how Nick was handling the storm out in the elements on the Pacific Crest Trail, the bad news was that it was not good.

To call this weather extreme would have been the understatement of the century and after two days and almost forty three miles of hiking in a non stop deluge Nick could go no further.

He was soaking wet and freezing cold with a suspected case of mild hypothermia, stranded on the top of a mountain where the peaceful desert trail had turned to a raging river in a matter of minutes.

With no other way to reach me, it was no small miracle that after dozens of tries Nick finally managed to get a call through to the RV Park to beg for mercy from a stranger, hoping they’d pass along his plea for emergency extraction.

The front desk lady grudgingly waded through the newborn parking lot rivers to deliver her garbled version of Nick’s desperate message and by the time I could make sense of her nonsense words, and roused the half asleep boys, the weather had calmed from raging monsoon to torrential downpour. 

It turns out she was more upset at me over the fact that I hadn’t been in to the office to pay for my site than she was having to brave the insane weather. In the chaos of the storm the thought honestly never occurred to me and I felt bad that she felt like she had to come pound on my door in the middle of one of the biggest rain storms the area had seen in years.

Once we got the details cleared up, she fled to her considerably drier place of work while I worked to get the boys loaded in the Pilot so we could head out to pick up Nick. But first things first, I had to drive to the front office and pay up.

After a short thirty second car ride I unbuckled both boys and ran through the rain with them and into the office where she waited for me at the front desk.

Still less than thrilled to see me again so soon, I tried to butter her up with my deepest and most profound apologies for the mix up, I really did feel bad, and thanked her again for coming out to deliver Nick’s message because she could have very well saved his life.

As I waited for my credit card payment to clear, a miracle in its own right with the storm causing so much electronic interference, another miracle happened happened right in front of me when the phone behind the counter rang and I immediately knew by the irritated look on her face that it was for me.

Actually hearing Nick’s voice, even as it faded in and out over the static on the line was a wonderful sound. He was still in a bad way, freezing, wet, and worried, not knowing if his message had been received or even if I could come rescue him.

I warned him that the roads were flooded down here and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it out of the valley and up to Highway 78 towards Mount Laguna where he was, but that I would try. And that if I managed to make it that far, I’d have to make a stop in Julian first to fuel up the Pilot, otherwise, our situation would go from bad to worse quick, fast and in a hurry.

I had only made it about a mile and a half from the RV Park when I spotted two people essentially wading down the side of the road towards me, absolutely soaked. They had massive packs on their backs and they waved wildly to me and I could easily tell that they were PCT hikers and by the look of them, they were desperate.

I was torn, Nick was desperate too, maybe even more desperate but I couldn’t just leave them in the pouring rain, standing on the side of the road looking at me with such desperation and hope on their faces. Nick would have to wait just a bit longer and I knew he’d understand so I stopped the car to see if I could help.

They were exhausted, drenched, freezing cold and so thankful that I even stopped. I offered them a ride back to the RV Park, or if they wanted, since I was headed to Julian I could drop them there. They thanked me over and over again as I stood outside in the pouring rain trying to make room for them and their massive hiking packs. It was not an easy task, considering we were basically living out of the Pilot as well as Little Geo.

Atlas and Fenix were in their car seats in the second row, with storage totes under their feet and in between their seats. Crixus rode in the back with the third row seats folded flat with his dog food storage container and our double bike trailer/stroller strapped to one side. There was not a lot of spare room to be found, but I still tried to make a much space for them as possible.

With the roaring sound of the heater blasting I’m sorry to say I wasn’t able to get their names, but I did learn that the guy who sat in the passenger seat beside me was from a town not far from where we lived back in Oregon. Small world.

The girl was less fortunate in her seating arrangements as the only free space I had left in the Pilot was in the back with Crixus. She didn’t mind though and she happily crammed herself back there, simply delighted to just be out of the wet.

Crixus however, was less than thrilled by his new backseat travel companion and made his distaste known by pushing himself forward trying to be as small as possible, no easy feat for a ninety five pound dog.

He moved as far away from her as he could manage in the tight space and when he could squeeze no further, he started to slowly edge himself, inch by inch, over the seat and into the second row between the boys.

The half drowned thru hikers opted to go to the RV park instead of Julian so I flipped a quick U-turn on the deserted road and made the return trek back towards Stagecoach Trails where they’d hopefully be able to dry out and get warmed up.

As they unloaded their packs they thanked me again and offered to pay for my troubles. I refused their offer and told them my husband was hiking the Pacific Crest Trail as well and that I was on my way to rescue him too and I was happy to help them, no payment necessary.

Heading out once more, I was relieved to see that the rain had slowed significantly and I prayed that the road would be clear enough that I could make it through this time.

Just a couple minutes later I made it back to the flood zone and saw that while the muddy water still covered the road, it was much lower than it had been a few hours earlier and it looked to be passable.

The Pilot sailed on through with no issues and after crossing two more lightly flooded sections, it seemed the worst was over when I finally made it to Highway 78 and turned to the west, officially Julian bound.

I did not pass go, not even to check on cell signal, I just kept on driving because I had delayed long enough as it was and I still had close to an hour drive before I made it to Mount Laguna.

The rain slowed to a light sprinkle as I gained elevation and then the fog started to roll in. I was thankful for its thick cover because it blocked the steep drop offs from view and made me less of a nervous wreck as I navigated the terrifying stretch of twisting, turning highway.

I suddenly felt a nudge behind me and looked back to see that Crixus had managed to crawl all the way from the cargo area to the second row between Atlas and Fenix where he was now inching even further forward to get closer to me.

Apparently his hitch hiking backseat companion had rattled him deeply and he was desperately seeking comfort. I encouraged him to join me up front and he crawled the final inches forward, curling awkwardly in the passenger seat beside me where he finally lowered his head onto my thigh and heaved a big sigh.

As I drove, I stroked the thick red fur on his giant head to reassure him everything was going to be okay and immediately started to feel more relaxed myself, not realizing until that moment that maybe he was coming forward to be a comfort to me as well.

We stopped for fuel in Julian and while the gas tank was being filled I transferred Crixus back to his usual seating arrangement in the back of the Pilot and called Nick, hoping he’d still have service, to let him know we were officially on our way and only thirty minutes out.

I turned onto the Sunrise Highway and headed south towards the lonely mountain to rescue my husband at last.

The drive up to Mount Laguna went smoothly enough and once again I was thankful for the thick fog tunnel that blocked my view on both side. I had never driven on that stretch of road before so didn’t know what horrifying heights might be looming on the other side of the white line but I had a pretty good imagination so I could guess.

Atlas was super excited to learn that we were driving through a cloud, a real cloud, and he chattered endlessly asking a million questions, easily distracting me from the overwhelming chaos of the morning.

I didn’t know exactly what condition Nick would be in so I prepared the only way I could by turning on the heated seats and blasting the heater until I was sure my face would melt off.

Right on time, I reached the Mount Laguna Lodge and Store and I saw him sitting casually out front, seemingly no worse for the wear and I was finally able to take a huge deep breath.

Nick was at a much higher elevation so the rain had stopped for him long before it stopped for me down in the valley below. As he waited for me to come pick him up, by the mercy of another strangers kindness he was able to go inside a small restaurant where he warmed up and dried out a little next to a fire place.

The restaurant had been closed for renovations but the kind stranger had welcomed Nick inside despite that fact. She offered him hot black coffee which is only further proof of his desperation because Nick does NOT drink hot coffee, ever.

But in this case, as cold as he was, the thick bitter liquid was a life saving drink and he eagerly drank it down, asking for seconds as he warmed up next to the fire.

Delighted and so relieved to see Nick safe and mostly unharmed, I hopped out of the flaming hot car and out into the cool, crisp mountain air to help him load his drenched pack into the back with Crixus.

Out came the sun and dried up all the rain and my little hiking husband drove down the mountain again. Jokes aside, the sun really did dry the ground faster than the rain was able to flood it, and just as quickly as the storm blew in, it blew out even faster.

It was as if I had dreamed up the entire morning because as we neared the RV park just one hour later, there was almost no evidence that it had rained at all.

The angry black clouds had moved off into the distance and the sun was shining bright in the blue sky once more, drying out what was left of the standing water.

The once flooded road had dried completely and even the desert ground looked like it hadn’t seen rain in days instead of just minutes.

I suppose they call it a flash flood for a good reason but my brain still struggled to comprehend how something so devastating could come and go so quickly leaving the area largely unchanged while I felt shaken to the core.

The entrance to the RV Park was still flooded and Nick drove through without hesitation and I envied him his lack of fear. Being afraid of water has always been one of my weaknesses and this storm had awakened an old terror that had been laying dormant for years.

Nick took advantage of his new accommodations and took a long hot shower while I chased after a very energetic Atlas and Fenix who were relieved to finally be out of the car. They had been cooped up all day because of the rainstorm and understandably, they had a lot of energy to burn.

The RV Park had a basketball court and Atlas rode his Strider balance bike around while Fenix joyfully jumped in all the puddles that hadn’t been able to dry out yet.

Dressed in warm, dry clothes, Nick caught up to us and the boys eagerly ran around, showing him everything this desert oasis had to offer.

While I took my turn in the showers a full two days ahead of schedule, Nick walked with Atlas and Fenix to the front office which also happened to be a small general store to pick up some highly overpriced food.

To my surprise, they brought back a freshly made pizza for dinner and I’m telling you, after a very long, very stressful day nothing had ever tasted so good!

The next day was a much needed zero day for Nick, and he took advantage of the weather, laying out all of his soaked gear so it could dry in the hot desert sun before the next round of storms descended.

We did some laundry in the laundromat next and spent most of the day chasing after the boys as they continued their exploration of the sprawling RV Park.

It was a bizarre feeling doing little everyday chores after the adrenaline pumping drama of the morning before but we took our cues from the desert that carried on as if nothing had out of the ordinary had happened and did the same.

I drove Nick back up to Mount Laguna the next morning and dropped him back off exactly where I’d picked him up a couple days before.

Leaving him on the top of the mountain was an unsettling feeling, but the knowledge that I’d be seeing him the next day made driving away from him a little easier than the last time.

The weather was supposed to hold for a few more days and that helped ease any lingering fears of another flash flood repeat.

The next afternoon, with the boys in tow, I parked the Pilot along the side of the road just off Highway 78, about four miles from where I was staying at Stagecoach Trails and waited for Nick to meet us at the car.

We were ahead of schedule but it still took longer than I expected and the boys were going a little stir crazy in their car seats, instead of waiting for him to come to us, in a burst of inspiration I decided we would go to him.

I released Atlas and Fenix from the confines of their seats and we set off on the Pacific Crest Trail to meet Nick somewhere along the way.

Atlas was so excited to be hiking down the same trail that his Daddy was on and he kept running ahead, unable to contain his enthusiasm while Fenix and I walked behind at a much slower pace.

That was another nice thing about this desert landscape, despite the prickly environment, I could see for miles ahead which allowed me to safely allow that freedom for Atlas.

We met a couple of thru hikers about half a mile down the trail and they seemed delighted to see Atlas skipping so cheerfully down the trail and they stopped to watch with huge smiles on their faces as he danced towards them. When we got closer it became clear that they didn’t speak English but they seemed content enough to just wave at us as we passed by them.

The wind started to pick up and Atlas quickly lost his hiking enthusiasm but we managed to make it another mile with Fenix alternating between walking and being carried while Atlas clung to my side to avoid the worst of the wind.

The Teddy Bear Cholla lined both sides of the trail so walking side by side on the narrow path was difficult at best and more often than not, to protect Atlas, I ended up walking on the side of the trail and wound up with Jumping Cholla spines piercing the bottom of my shoes. See what I mean about unforgettable?

But then, finally, down the the trail we spotted a familiar figure looming in the distance like a mirage.

Nick had been out on trail hiking towards us all morning but as he slowly descended the desert hills, the meandering Pacific Crest Trail kept switching back and fourth, teasing him with glimpses of our camp site leaving him to wonder if he’d ever reach us.

The PCT is funny like that, on some stretches you can see your destination from miles away but the trail zig zags in the most indirect route, almost always taking the long way around.

I’ll never forget the look on Nick’s face as he realized who was hiking towards him. His face lit up and he had the biggest smile on his face to see me and our boys meeting him out there in his world.

This was why we had chosen to do our Adventure Of a Lifetime this way, together, it was for moments exactly like these.

Seeing his Daddy and getting to hike on the Pacific Crest Trail with him gave Atlas his second wind and he happily hiked down the trail ahead, eager to lead the way back to the car.

To my dismay, I had miscalculated and was unprepared for how long we’d be hiking and so I hadn’t thought to bring my trusty Ergo Baby Carrier along for Fenix. His little one year old legs tired quickly and he was done walking long before our hike had finished.

Unfortunately for me, my arms weren’t given that same luxury and since Nick had his huge pack, that left me carrying Fenix for the return trip. Well before I completed the final mile and a half hike back, Fenix fell asleep in my arms, exhausted after his long walk.

My arms ached as my beautiful son slept on while the sand and rocks crunched beneath my feet making tiny clouds of dust behind me. The wind continued, blowing the sand our steps had loosened around, bringing with it the fresh sweet smell of the desert. Overhead, the big blue sky stretched out seemingly forever occasionally punctuated by impossibly fluffy white clouds.

Ahead of me, Atlas reached out to grab his Daddies hand and I watched as they hiked, drawn together like magnets, side by side and hand in hand on this ordinary single dirt trail that somehow had the power to change our whole lives.

A simple line of dirt winding through the desert had brought us to this exact moment, it was the reason we were out here on this day, together, hiking through this sea of cactus, experiencing the beauty of this unique landscape that we would have otherwise probably never seen.

It was not always going to be so easy like this, that much was true, because in order to maintain balance, life must be fueled by a certain level of chaos. The calm, quiet moments that followed were the bliss that balanced the scales and grasping it, if only for a moment, was more than enough to sustain us through the chaos when it swirled.

That was the feeling we had now, blissed out on life as we hiked onward together, towards the car which would take us back to our home on wheels. It felt fantastic knowing we had unlimited options in our new life and we could go anywhere we wanted. Home was where we parked it after all.

The knowledge that we had chosen to be there, hiking through that beautiful desert so Nick could live out his dream was empowering. This was the freedom we had sought after for so long and it felt surreal to be out here, together, finally living for today, not someday on our very own Grand Adventure.

The worst was behind us, the storm was over, we had weathered the chaos and the scales felt balanced once more.

Or so we thought.

But in the eye of the hurricane there is quiet, for just a moment and THIS was the calm before the storm.