…when you agree not to exchange Christmas gifts, but still want to get your sweetheart a little holiday present.
…when you want to give something small, something practical and something you’ll both be able to enjoy.
…when you were pretty similar to begin with, and then you spend every day together for five straight months living in 160 square feet of space.
You give each other the exact same gift.
I was sitting in the Shaved Duck, a little BBQ gastropub in St. Louis, when suddenly, for the first time this trip, I felt Far Away.
Was it the brick buildings? The old industrial big city feel? The obvious fact we were so close to the Mississippi? Our two-week stretch in Kansas – where we stayed with Patrick’s friends and family and explored his hometown – was the bridge that connected The West to The East, and now we are really far from home.
St. Louis was fantastic. Who knew? We planned to pass on through, but ended up staying for two nights. Cities can be tricky for budget RV travelers – it’s hard to park, campsites are far from any cool neighborhoods and, above all, cities are expensive. Not so in St. Louis, which boasts an impressive list of free activities, from tours to museums to the zoo. We also found a great little RV park right downtown, delicious food & drink and explored an incredibly unique art space. Grand total? Less than $100.
We were awed by the beautiful mosaics at the Cathedral Basilica, which rivaled any of the churches I’ve seen in Europe. We strolled the halls of the Art Museum and whiled away several hours at St. Louis Zoo, watching baby monkeys and a sweet otter family snarf up frozen fish. But, the most marvelous thing of all, a reason to visit St. Louis in and of itself, was the City Museum.
A whimsical dreamscape created by artist Bob Cassilly, City Museum is unlike any museum you’ve ever visited. It’s more of a playground. Actually, it felt like Burning Man condensed into a single building with a more kid-friendly slant. We went down a ten-story slide. Ten stories! I was so dizzy at the bottom I had to sit down. The next morning my knees were bruised from crawling along secret passageways and through metal mesh passageways suspended over an outdoor courtyard. Enchanted caves. Giant ball pits. Thousands of hotel baking pans reimagined as a wall surface. Turtles. I’m sure this sounds absolutely crazy, so just go visit their website.
And! Beer. Specifically, the best beer we’ve had since Colorado. Schlafly Tap Room offered an abundance of craft beers and a British-style menu that included tasty beer cheese soup and a homey beef pie. I especially liked the citrusy-spicy Christmas Ale and the cask Optic Golden Ale. Patrick favored the Grand Cru. We both liked the Winter ESB, so we bought a growler and have been enjoying it ever since. Schlafly offers free tours of their brew house, too.
World Series champions and a glowing review from Propane Kitchen? St. Lou is having quite the year.
We’ve now been on the road for four months, long enough that our former lives are just a hazy memory. We’re in our Winnebago Groove.
Random Statistics
A startling, surreal landscape of pure white gypsum sand covers 275 square miles of New Mexico. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before.
Sand Dunes
Cottonwood Leaf, Gypsum Sand
Dunes, Sand Bed
We went opal mining a few days ago. The description for Rockhound State Park, just outside of Deming, New Mexico, noted quartz, agate and even opals are found in the hills surrounding the campground, and visitors are encouraged to haul away the stones. I like opals. We needed a place to camp in southwest NM. Perfect!
Now, I have no idea how to mine for opals, nor even what a raw opal looks like. Continue reading
We woke surrounded by clouds. From the campground at the summit, the sides of Mingus Mountain dropped steeply down to the wide Verde Valley. The evening before, we’d watched gathering storm clouds turn pink over the distant red rocks of Sedona; now the edge of our campsite was a swirl of grey. The wind blew coldly. Rain gave way to the ratatatat of hail, drumming down on the roof, bouncing off the wet ground. It gathered in small white drifts while we watched from the warmth of the Minnie, eating toast with almond butter.
About halfway down the mountain, the town of Jerome, Arizona clings to the slopes. Formerly a copper mining location, the little city is now an artist community. The old high school houses studios and the streets are lined with unique shops offering handmade jewelry, prints, clothing and more – a refreshing change from all the mass-produced tchotchkes we’ve seen at other tourist destinations.
One shop in particular is dedicated to enchantment and wonder – descriptors most often applied when talking about places for children, but this store is most definitely for adults. Nellie Bly Kaleidoscopes features gorgeous, intricate versions of the classic toy, reimagined in stained glass, brass and smooth polished woods. Though the pieces were intricate works of art, the atmosphere was quite the opposite of a stuffy fine art gallery. We were encouraged to touch everything. We spun small wheels and turned dials, peered into the mirrored scopes, watched as the colored beads and oils and chunks of colored glass formed ever-changing patterns. It was wonderful. As I looked around, I realized everyone in the store was smiling. Have you ever thought about how rare that is? Adults, just smiling, indulging in play and beauty?
This whole planter box was a kaleidoscope – both the scope and the basin of the box spin to create beautiful designs. The atmosphere in Nellie Bly kept us smiling long after we had driven away, feeling warm and cozy despite the chill in the air. It’s definitely been one of our favorite stops so far.
October, as all our months on the road, has passed too quickly. It is my favorite month – bringing the crisp chill of autumn mornings, dry scent of oak leaves, pumpkin everything, sweater weather. Our travels took us over more than 1,500 miles of roadways this month, from slickrock to snow to desert sand. I’m continually amazed at the vast differences in climate and topography, how the scenery across the West is constantly changing.
October 1: Sunrise at Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah.
October 9: Double Arch, Arches National Park, Utah.
October 16: Highway 550 just south of Silverton, Colorado. You could almost warm yourself by the glow of the aspens in the late afternoon sun.
October 23: The Grand Canyon, Arizona. We hiked five miles and 3,000 feet in elevation down into the canyon, but didn't get all the way to the Colorado River.
October 30: Saguaro, Prickly Pear and Teddy Bear Cholla near Tucson, Arizona.
Before we embarked on this trip, our “real lives” were filled with dozens and dozens of people – colleagues, best pals, landlords, casual acquaintances, favorite waitresses, job contacts, regular baristas, you get the idea. Now it’s just us. Always. And though we like each other about as much as two people can, sometimes we don’t have anything new or witty to say to each other anymore. If you’ve been following us here, you know we’ve had an incredible few months filled with exploring, snapping photos, making great meals. What we haven’t done a lot of is chatting with other people. Because we tend to boondock on public land and spend our time out on hiking trails, we go days without running into anyone besides a camp host or park ranger. It’s been six weeks since we last saw any family or friends.
This is a long way of saying we’re itchy for conversation.
Having lived my whole life either on the West Coast or in Minnesota, I’m familiar with scenery painted in greens, blues and browns — pine-filled mountains, lakes, meadows rimmed with leafy trees. Utah was a contrast to all of that. Created with a completely different palette of deep red and terra-cotta, the steep-walled canyons, graceful arches and arid desert were impressively beautiful in a way I’d never experienced before. We spent two and a half weeks exploring all five of Utah’s National Parks and part of the Grand Staircase area, doing some of the best hikes of the trip and discovering a burgeoning new love for canyoneering.
A full week of throbbing music, dust storms, midnight bike rides and art exploration at Burning Man made returning to the regular world feel a bit dull. So little neon, few enormous sculptures, no steam punk octopus cars shooting flames. The only obvious antidote to all that human-powered stimulation was to immerse ourselves again in the much more humbling beauty of nature. So, after a quick stop in Eagle Point to deep-clean the Minnie and a whirlwind tour through the Bay Area visiting friends, we set off to Yosemite and the majestic Eastern Sierra. Continue reading
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