I am so excited for this next leg of my adventure!
I plan to leave east Tennessee tomorrow, barring any unforseen circumstances (i.e., weather). I feel pretty confident driving Dolly – after all, she is a petite 22 feet long, super short compared to most RVs – but I don’t want to test my skills by driving on ice and other dangerous conditions if I can help it.
She sure does look pretty in the snow, though.
I had a really awesome Christmas holiday with my family in Tennessee. My sister and her boyfriend were here, and we had a white Christmas, which none of us had seen in a long time.
Check out this kick-ass breakfast station for the RV! It’s got a hot plate on top, a toaster oven, and a tiny coffee pot … and it fits perfectly in my tiny RV kitchen.
I also got a cool map for my RV, where I can add a new sticker for every state I visit. I need to fill this baby up!
I also busted out a donut-making kit I had bought a long time ago … I had a lot of fun being in a warm house, baking lots of different kids of donuts instead of freezing outside. It’s been a great couple of weeks, just relaxing at my mom’s.
I really wanted to leave last week, before this winter weather came back, but I had to wait for a prescription to arrive in the mail. I am taking oral chemotherapy pills, so it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be; five years ago this week I was going to what I thought would be my last chemotherapy treatment ever. As I had done five times before, I took a super long commute from my apartment in Ocean Beach to Chula Vista (about 30 miles as the crow flies, but if I didn’t have a ride, it was two buses and a trolley – almost three hours – each way), then for nearly eight hours I was stuck with multiple needles and infused with multiple different medications, including 5-6 chemotherapy drugs.
So, as much of a pain it is to deal with this specialty pharmacy that makes a rare cancer drug, this is way nicer than I had it before.
Plus, I can still travel!
I plan to take it easy the first day or so, visiting some friends in Cookeville and Nashville. Then I want to go back to Louisiana, to my friend’s place near Alexandria, and the sweet RV campsite/state park that my friends and I stayed at last month.
I will most likely continue on to Houston (it’s silly not to when I can see my sister!) and then, I want to see some cool stuff I have never seen before. I heard great things about Palo Duro Canyon state park in West Texas.
Of course, with the pandemic going on, it’s not a good idea to have too many plans that you can’t change. The website for the Palo Duro campsites look like there is a lot of vacancy, but then when I checked RV parks in California, they have warnings that you can’t stay there unless you certify that you’re an essential worker, or that your presence there is otherwise essential … and while this adventure is certainly essential to me, I don’t think the state of California would allow a dying-of-cancer exception to the law.
So the plan is to see friends and family, see a new state park, then head back to California. And I will probably be there for a while. I have a doctor’s appointment on the 29th in San Diego, and a reservation to stay at a cool RV park in Julian (one of those deals where they give you free time at a resort so they can try to sell you more time) the next week, then I want to see my brother in Oxnard, friends in Sacramento and San Francisco, my great-aunt in Santa Cruz, and a few other spots and people.
I also want to see some more state and national parks, and if the weather is good (it can’t be worse than Tennessee), some camping among the redwoods and in the mountains sounds great.
If the weather permits, I want to come back to Tennessee again (in March or early April) by going north – probably through Oregon, Washington state, Idaho and Montana – and then in the late spring and summer, see the east coast. At this point I feel like I have done the drive between California and Tennessee a million times, so I want to try some new routes and see some new things.
I have a few more things to organize and pack today, but I am really excited to get back on the road!
Be sure to follow me on Facebook and Instagram, and if you are so inclined, please support my GoFundMe. All funds go directly to this trip – gas, repairs, and stuff for the RV. See you out there on the road!
Now that I have done his a couple of times, I can safely say, traveling without a strict itinerary is the way to go. I had some doctor’s appointments in San Diego, and Nichelina and I both promised our moms we would be back on the East Coast for Christmas, but other than that, we were free to do what we liked on our way east. I had promised my doctor that I would come back after Thanksgiving for more tests and shots, so that gave us a couple more days in California.
I really enjoyed Thanksgiving at my brother’s house.
He’s a theme park blogger (check out his stuff at Park Journey), and I know it hurt him to not be able to go and ride on some roller coasters this year. But the theme parks are making it work; we took a ride through Six Flags Magic Mountain to see the cool decorations and holiday displays. It was really fun ad safe; you didn’t even have to get out of your car to see everything.
I just recently got to know my brother and his family, and they are taking care of my kitty, Janis. I was really worried that Janis – who was practically feral when she adopted me and does not handle change very well – would be stressed and upset without me and after being forcibly moved to a new home with new people.
Let’s just say, if she was upset about the move from an apartment in Ocean Beach to a sweet condo in L.A., it hasn’t affected her appetite. I tried for almost a decade to get her fat, but she always had too much exercise and fresh air outside. Now that she’s an inside kitty, she’s chunked up in less than a couple of months.
After Thanksgiving, Nichelina and I spent a couple more days in San Diego, enjoying another weekend parked at the beach facing the sunset.
We took a chance on some new technology; I really hate the gas generator in the RV — it makes electricity but it’s so loud and gas-guzzling — and I wanted another alternative.
This solar panel is pretty cheap on Amazon, it’s light and folds out into four small panels, and it charges right away. In less than a minute, I was able to unfold it, place it in direct sunlight, and plug in my phone charger, which started charging at full power instantly. I purchased a connector that supposedly will allow me to charge the battery with this solar panel, but we will see. I might not get a chance to test it in Tennessee in wintertime.
There aren’t a lot of Harvest Hosts spots in San Diego county – a few in the mountains and the inland areas, and one in Chula Vista; a golf course. You have to upgrade for a golf membership with Harvest Hosts, but some of the golf clubs make you pay for rounds of golf in order to camp out there. Luckily, the Chula Vista Golf Course is part of a complex that allows overnight parking.
It’s not super fancy, but there is a shopping complex across the street. We got there after dark, but we woke up to a lovely view of a shady golf course.
Since we were in close proximity to some of the best Mexican food outside of Mexico, we took advantage. I got roasted lamb from Aqui es Texcoco, which included a consomme, tortillas, and limes, cilantro and fresh diced onions for garnish.
Then I stopped at Tacos el Gordo, and got carne asada tacos and adobada fries with all of the fixins (aka “con todo y pina”). It was impeccable.
Apparently the city of Chula Vista is saluting health care workers, as they should be doing. On my way to Tacos El Gordo, I even saw a flag with Dr. Marilyn Norton, who was one of my oncologists when I had breast cancer a few years ago. She’s great and I’m glad she’s being recognized.
Anyway, I also took the opportunity to enjoy some more sun and Mexican food before I left San Diego. This is the breakfast burrito from Nico’s on Newport Avenue near the beach. It got me through many a morning in OB.
I wrapped up my last day in southern California with with stupid cancer nonsense; I needed a bone scan, a hormone shot and an infusion, as well as to meet again with my oncologist. I decided – either wisely or stupidly – to get it all done in one long day at the hospital.
Dolly (the RV) had other ideas.
While I was in the hospital all day, Dolly took this opportunity to let her ass slip. The fender (which holds the poop tube and the covered spare tire) was falling off – and this is definitely the sort of thing that can do some damage if it hits you on the highway.
The exhaust pipe was also slipping.
The left turn signal was going in and out.
The windshield was cracked.
What the hell.
Once again, I survived because of the ingenuity and connections of my friends.
While I was getting a shot in the butt, an infusion through a chest port, an oncologist consultation and a bone scan, Nichelina was teaming up with our friend Tully to remove the heavy spare tire from the fender and get the RV to a place where they could do all of the welding and an oil change. She bought a cheap part that fixed the errant turn signal, and the crack on the windshield appeared to be very low on the glass pane, so we decided it was at least good enough for us to hit the road.
It’s really amazing that for this entire trip, all of the mechanical issues we had could be fixed for a minimal expense.
I’m happy to say that we all held up quite nicely through the mountains — Nichelina and I are still friends, Dego the dog has had another eventful cross-country trip, and Dolly is still running.
Dolly also got an oil change at the same time the rear fender and exhaust pipe was welded back on, so she was driving really smoothly. She certainly was slow driving through some of those steep mountain grades between Utah and Arizona, but nothing worse than what you’d expect with such a non-aerodynamic vehicle going up a big mountain.
At the Four Corners, it was pretty bleak — the Navajo Nation has been ravaged by Covid, so pretty much everything except the most essential services are still available. The Harvest Hosts stop we parked at that night was one of the essential businesses: a trading post and gas station in Teec Nos Pos, Arizona.
It’s a lovely store and a warm place to stop (presumably it’s nicer in the summer and when there isn’t a devastating pandemic going on), and we got some cool souvenirs.
That whole area is really unusual, especially in the winter. The air is cold but dry, and you have static electricity everywhere you go … especially in an RV containing a million blankets and a dog.
The next day we went on to Albuquerque, New Mexico, and we got some amazing burgers and enjoyed a bit of a rest before we headed east. We decided instead of a Harvest Host, we would just drive until we wanted to stop, and park at a free lot then head to Texas in the morning. After a nice sleep at a truck stop, we went through the rest of New Mexico and west Texas (snore), then stopped in Lubbock at the Buddy Holly museum.
We didn’t have a lot of time to spend there – we were trying to get to that night’s Harvest Host stop and then on to my sister’s in Houston by nightfall – but it was a really fun museum and a nice stop after driving for a few hours.
Our Harvest Host that night was in Abilene – a small meadery in the downtown area where we learned about the process of making mead, and enjoyed a lovely dinner with the hosts.
Amber Dragon Meadery makes small batches of different fruity honey wines made in the ancient process, and they have a really cool tasting area and collection of Viking items.
As we have come to expect from Harvest Hosts (other than the Nazi incident), Amber Dragon was a great small business we are proud to support, and after a great night’s sleep (that mead packs a punch), we were on our way again.
Oh yes, the ‘Nazi incident’; if you didn’t read my last post, I’ll give you the short version: we stayed at a former Harvest Host stop called Wicked Kreations, which was not only far below the standards of beauty and cleanliness we have come to expect, but they were displaying Nazi flags. They said later that their dirty motorcycle garage was a military museum, but they also said their dirty home was a winery, so they are clearly not living in the same realm of reality as you and I.
When we told POC (and allies) not to shop or stay there, they tried to retaliate; saying we stole from them (as if!) and trying to get their buddies to harass us.
I also learned this week that the wife (or girlfriend) of the alleged murderer passed away on December 9.I know she had cancer and was obviously suffering due to an alleged assault and her partner’s PTSD, but I don’t know the cause or circumstances.Regardless of the details, it’s certainly tragic, and I am sorry for her death. May her memory be a blessing.
Dolly had been running really well up until we got to Texas, but then the battery that powers the camper stopped working. The battery that runs the engine was fine, so we could still drive, but in the middle of our nice evening at that meadery, our lights went out and wouldn’t come back on unless we had the generator on, or the RV plugged in.
Luckily we were in the home stretch. We could plug in at my sister’s house and in Louisiana, then we would be back at mom’s.
Once we were in Houston, of course, we forgot to take any photos of anything except food…
… but we had a really great time.
Unlike when I was in Louisiana and southeastern Texas back in September, the weather this time was mild, the traffic wasn’t full of tourists, and the bugs had gone back to Hell where they belong. After a couple days of stuffing ourselves full of Chinese food, Italian food, Cajun food; and every cookie, donut and kolache available, we headed to Louisiana.
Long before Nichelina and I decided to do a nationwide road trip together, we met in Ocean Beach. Our mutual friend, Belinda, who introduced us – and is a lover of food, drink, and debauchery just like us – has been living and working in southern Louisiana for some time.
We had originally planned to meet up with Belinda and go to New Orleans. When we arrived, Belinda had more work to do, and it was more like another four-hour drive to New Orleans, so we opted to stay somewhere closer.
Between friends and Harvest Hosts, we managed to be on the road for over a month without using a campground. When we were thinking about New Orleans, we were looking at a campground in the French Quarter that was about $100 per night, and another outside of the city that was a state-run campground for abut $20-30. We completely randomly chose the Indian Creek Recreational Area, simply because it was cheap and close to our friend’s house. And we needed a plug-in since the battery was acting up.
It was completely accidental, but it was the best decision! It was so pretty and peaceful there.
I picked the parking spot sight-unseen (just looking at their map), and close the biggest spot that was close to the lake and far away from the kids’ playground. It was a perfect area, with gorgeous views of the lake, the trees, and the sunset.
The park was actually pretty full – maybe 60% – for the winter, but everyone was really quiet and chill. I definitely was proud of myself for accidentally picking the best campground ever (for less than $40 for two days!), and I plan to use them much more often now. I’m also a huge fan of using someone else’s electricity instead of my finicky battery or my loud, gross generator.
I loved the views and fire pit and the peaceful night’s sleep, but it’s definitely worth $18 per night to have power, water, a shower, and a dump station. And it was great to have a couple of days to catch up with my friend and hang out without any place to go.
Speaking of dump station, the Indian Creek campground dump station was the first place I ever emptied Dolly’s poop tank by myself. (Hopefully they will be erecting the historical marker on the spot soon.) I had watched the YouTube videos, and read the manual, and watched others do it, but I had never done it, really, actually, myself. I was intimidated, to say the least, but I am proud to report that I did it all alone and did it very well. Now I feel much more confident about doing it myself.
On that last stretch from Louisiana to Tennessee, we had originally planned to park for the night at the B.B. King Museum in Indianola, Mississippi, which is a privately funded, non-profit museum and music educational center, as well as a Harvest Host parking spot. We made much better time getting there than anticipated, so we decided to keep on trucking (after checking out the museum) instead of stopping there overnight.
They even have a cool replica of Lucille (King’s favorite guitar) outside.
It didn’t feel right to snap photos like a tourist, but I also wanted to be sure to never forget this happened.
We kept driving until late, making it to almost an hour west of Nashville, then the next day we drove the rest of the way to my mom’s house. It was uneventful and took less time than anticipated. By the time the end of the trip came along, we were ready to not be on the road anymore, and Nichelina had much further to go. We decided to scrap seeing friends in Nashville and the surrounding areas – I could spend a week seeing friends there, so I’ll take a short trip there after the holidays.
We unloaded most of our things from Dolly as soon as we arrived, and Nichelina left for home (in Philadelphia) right away the next morning to avoid a storm coming towards the east coast.
The end of Dolly’s first round trip was very unceremonious and abrupt compared to the emotional preamble, the endless amounts of tiny details, and always-shifting departure time in the lead-up to leaving.
I plan to stay at my mom’s house in Tennessee for a couple of weeks, to enjoy Christmas and New Year’s with my family and get the RV battery taken care of before I hit the road again. In early January I want to do a trip to Nashville, maybe another to Atlanta or Birmingham to see other friends, and maybe some nights at local campgrounds, just to see which ones I like the best.
I will leave Tennessee around January 20th to get to San Diego for more tests and doctor’s visits at the end of January. In the meantime, stay tunes to this space for some more updates, and my Instagram and Facebook pages for more up-to-date details.
As I write this, we have been on the road for almost a month, and we have all held up surprisingly well. When I say “we,” I am referring obviously to myself, but also to my friend, Nichelina, who drove to my mom’s house in Tennessee from her home in Philadephia in order to join me on a nationwide road trip of indeterminate length, and her 11-year-old service pitbull named Dego.
We were all good friends before this trip, but it is fair to say that we have learned a lot about each other after traveling together for so long in a 22-foot-long RV.
Dego has been a very good boy, and mostly rests during the day while we’re moving.
At several times in this story, “we” also includes my RV, who I have named Dolly. She also has performed remarkably well for a vehicle built in 1995-1996 and barely driven 50 miles per year. She only stopped working once, and we were able to get that issue fixed (in a way that probably only happens in a sitcom). More on that later.
Of course, we are also traveling during a pandemic, which severely limits the socializing we would normally be doing. Instead of stopping in a strange town and popping down to the local bar or restaurant to meet some people and ask about the fun places to go, we take our food to go, eat it in the RV (she has a nice dining area), and ask the carryout guy or the gas station attendant or the Harvest Hosts host about local places of interest.
Luckily we have an RV that makes us feel safe, at least in terms of Covid protection – no hotels or restaurants necessary. And luckily, we’re good friends.
Our plan was to head generally westward, stopping at cool places along the way, and using Harvest Hosts as much as possible. I’ve explained about HH before, but essentially it is a membership for RV owners; you pay an annual subscription (which is stupid cheap) to be able to park overnight at privately-owned wineries, farms, distilleries, breweries, and other unique places of interest.
You don’t pay the host for parking, but you are expected to purchase something if they are selling (wine at a winery, cheese at a dairy farm, etc.). Most of them are small farms or businesses, many of the owners live on the property as well.
Of course, there are some areas of the country without Harvest Hosts available, so, as RV owners and travelers know, you can also park for free overnight at (almost) any Wal-Mart, Home Depot, Costco, Cracker Barrel, and most Indian casinos and truck stops. Many of these are open 24 hours, but all have 24-hour security.
Anyway, Nichelina arrived at my mom’s house a few days before we left, because we were still fixing it up — a thousand tiny little touches that needed to happen before we got on the road.
Just as an example, we spent an inordinant amount of time fixing the step up into the camper. I wanted the first view you see when you walk in to be a pretty color and something nice, not just the ugly carpet stapled to the wall. We took several days to paint it, prepare the backsplash, and fix the contoured step.
Of course, now that we have been on the road, we have thought of a thousand more things to fix or redo. By the time we get back to Tennessee again, we will have a completely different idea of RV traveling than we did before we started.
The plan was to leave by noon on Halloween. Then it was by 4 p.m.
We finally left my mom’s house at about 8 p.m.
As we went up the hill and out of the driveway, Dolly started to shake and make a wheezing noise between 35 and 45 mph. We had called ahead to a Harvest Host – Bristol Caverns, a privately owned tourist attraction of a cavern tour and museum – and they told us we could come after business hours. It was about an hour from my mom’s; which we did intentionally, in case we forgot something or something else bad happened that first night.
That first night was 26 degrees. That night I learned that the air conditioning unit was not also a heater. That night I learned how to prime the generator and get it to work – and then realized I did not bring a heater. And how did I never notice how loud that generator is? Also the stove pilot light wasn’t working … it felt like it didn’t have gas going to it, but the reader on the tank said it was half full.
We ended up deciding to use the microwave instead of the stove until we can get a propane guy to check it out – somehow there is enough propane to run the refrigerator, which was great, but it was still weird. The weird shaking and wheezing that happened between 35-45 mph was still happening.
Since it was Sunday when we woke up, we weren’t able to visit the Bristol Caverns, so we headed to Mammoth Caves in southern Kentucky.
We called ahead to another Harvest Host — Traveler’s Cellar in Rockfield, Kentucky. They were having a private party that night (like many hosts, they live on the property), but they were kind enough us a quick wine tasting anyway. We got there just in time for sunset, and to buy a bottle of the bubbly red Baco Noir.
It was lovely. I’ve never had a fizzy red wine before but I really loved it.
The next morning we attempted to visit Mammoth Caves, but due to my walker (which I still need occasionally), we weren’t able to get a tour. We had a great time driving around the park and surrounding areas.
Unfortunately, everything we want to visit is either closed due to the pandemic, or they’re totally changed because of it.
The next night, we stayed at another Harvest Host, a distillery in eastern Kentucky.
Again, we arrived just before dark. Since we were headed west and it’s wintertime, there isn’t a lot of sunlight, and we didn’t want to drive too much at night. Plus, most Harvest Hosts want you to get there before it gets dark.
We had a great time at Casey Jones Distillery, learning about the history of Casey Jones and the moonshine business back in the day.
We sampled a variety of moonshines and bourbons, purchased a few bottles for gifts for some friends, and the next morning, we were on our way to southern Illinois.
The area around western Kentucky, southern Illinois and Missouri is really beautiful. In our comparatively short time on the road, we have seen some really beautiful landscapes. Southern Illinois also has a lot of cool wineries in the area around the Shawnee National Forest.
When we got to Illinois, we stayed at Starview Vineyards, probably one of our favorite Harvest Hosts stops.
They had a lovely spot to park, a nice restaurant where we could sample some of their wines and have an early dinner, and the view from our table at their pond was spectacular.
From there, we headed towards St. Louis, to see the Gateway Arch National Park and to stay at another Harvest Host outside of the city limits.
The Gateway Arch actually has a really pretty park and pedestrian walkway around it, as well as a museum and gift shop underground.
We parked downtown and walked all around, admiring the artwork and the lovely park…
… then we had a yummy to-go lunch of Korean food.
As I said, pretty much all of our meals were takeout, and enjoyed at our small dining room table in the RV. I painted some of the walls and used wallpaper on others, but the table and benches were pretty much unaltered.
We also enjoyed our stay at the Point Labaddie Brewery just outside of St. Louis. The night we arrived, they had an (outdoor) trivia night, and there were a few other Harvest Hosts RVers we hung out with (socially distanced, of course).
We had a great time drinking local beer around a nice campfire, making new friends and relaxing.
The next morning we kept west towards Kansas City, driving through the Ozarks and enjoying the scenery. One of our new friends at trivia night had recommended Lone Elk County Park, where we could drive around on a one-way road and see the elk during mating season.
We got to see a lot of wildlife, including beautiful birds and, as promised, lots of elk. We got to drive up and observe a pair of young elk fighting each other.
(I apologize for the grainy photo, I zoomed in a lot. I wasn’t about to get too close to wild and randy and violent elk who are antler-fighting each other during mating season.)
The lake communities around the Ozarks are really cute, and the flat land and lakes were a welcome respite after driving through the smoky mountains and the hills of Kentucky.
Nichelina had taken over driving, and I was chilling in the back; which is actually really fun. You get a better view and a more comfortable chair.
We were comfortably on our way to get BBQ in Kansas City – as comfortable as you can be when your vehicle shakes uncontrollably between 35-45 miles per hour – when the engine died.
It would start, so it wasn’t the battery. It happened suddenly with no warning lights so it wasn’t the catalytic converter. And we were able to restart the engine and move it (slowly) to a side street, before it died again.
I should point out that this tiny town of Eldon, Missouri, was the best possible place where we could have broken down. In the 45 minutes we were waiting on the side of the road for AAA to tow us to the repair shop, no fewer than a dozen people, including an EMT on his way to work and an off-duty police officer, stopped to ask us if we were OK, to offer advice and counsel, and to recommend a repair shop. They all said the same one: U Rench it.
It was around sunset when we broke down, so it was fully dark by the time we got a tow truck, they got the RV on the truck, and we got to the shop. They were about to close, but in the dark, the mechanic could tell that the problem was that — no kidding – mice had chewed through the fuel injector wires. It was an easy fix, but they couldn’t do it until the morning.
Curtis (the mechanic) let us park overnight at the secure repair shop lot, staying in our RV, and then first thing in the morning, he replaced the wires. It took about an hour because, in the daylight, he realized the spark plug wires had also been gnawed.
For a grand total of $72, we got back on the road, the RV actually drove better due to the new spark plug wires and fuel injector wires, and he showed us how to turn on our propane tank. It turned out, the fridge actually wasn’t working, it was just cold. (The food stayed cold in there when we were in Tennessee and Kentucky, but then when it warmed up again, so did our food.)
So it was a winning day all around… especially because Curtis also recommended moth balls in the engine to stop more mice and wildlife from gnawing our engine wires; and he directed us to Ha Ha Tonka State Park, a super cool hidden gem of a state park in the Ozarks.
They have an amazing natural rock bridge, which was dry from a drought, so we could actually climb and walk underneath it.
The state park is also home to an old castle built by a Kansas City business man in the early 1900s, and the ruins of the castle and surrounding views are spectacular.
I started to be really glad that we broke down in Missouri.
Finally we made it to Kansas City, where we had some really good BBQ at Jack Stacks BBQ.
Our Harvest Hosts stop for that night was a cider mill in Louisburg, Kansas, but we got there after dark and didn’t see anything until the sun came up.
And it was so cute! Pretty much by the time they opened at 8 a.m, the place was packed. I was still walking around, looking at everything while still in my PJs, and the people at Loiusburg Cider Mill were already making cider.
It was a Saturday morning, and dozens of families and visitors had arrived, already deep in their hot apple cider and cider donuts. I got some donuts, which were amazing, and some delicious fresh cider and apple cider slushie to wash them down.
Our goal was to get to Colorado before dark (or at least before too late), so I could get some Rick Simpson Oil and other CBD extracts before I started a new chemo drug. I have been on hormonal treatments (the tumors in my bones are actually breast cancer cells, so they are shrinking my tumors by cutting off estrogen), but I was starting a new regimen of oral chemotherapy pills, and I wanted to have some proper CBDs in my system so I could be as healthy as possible before I started.
Anyway, it took forever to get though Kansas, but it sure was better than slogging through that last part of west Texas that lasts forever when you’re trying to get west. (Anyone who has traveled that stretch knows what I mean.) We finally arrived in Colorado, found the nearest Wal-Mart, and stopped for the night.
As soon as we got the RSO, we headed south to New Mexico, where we unfortunately had the craziest part of our trip. It was a Harvest Hosts stop in northern New Mexico, a winery (there is a really great wine scene in New Mexico, their wines are all very unique, but more about that later). I will decline to name and tag them in this post, for reasons which will soon become apparent.
We did what we always did; called ahead to let them know we were coming, and our approximate time of arrival. We arrived just after sunset and before it got (really really) dark. Instantly, we knew this was not a normal HH stop. The place was dark and at the end of a dirt road. There were no markings. There was no sign. There were no lights. It didn’t appear to be a business at all. A man (who we later learned was the husband of the woman we spoke to), let us in the main gate, then locked it behind us.
As I mentioned, my RV is 22 feet long, which is very small for an RV. I cannot fathom how a rig bigger than mine would fit there. I started to wonder why these people were listed as a Harvest Host, and why in the world the reviews of this place – which discussed how the building was built in 1920 and used to be a dance hall – didn’t mention that it barely appeared to be a functioning business.
Nichelina commented (correctly) that it looked worse than the Wal-Mart we had slept at the previous night. I got out of the RV, with my mask on, and the lady told me that I didn’t need to wear one, because “everything is sanitary around here, even the dirt is sanitized.” Needless to say, this was not true — the place (and the people) were quite objectively dirty. But we were there, we were locked in. We had told them we were staying, I felt at that point it would have been more awkward to just turn around and leave.
We go inside to see their operation (the site boasts tasting flights and tours of their facility), and discover that this old 1920-era building, which looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since it was a Prohibition-era dance hall, is a (mostly) one-room building. You have to walk through a dirty motorcycle garage to enter. There is no winery or tasting room, and our host informs us that because of some legal snafu with the Catholic Church owning property within a certain distance, they are not allowed to operate it as a winery or as a tasting room. But, of course, they still do, offering wines to Harvest Hosts RVers and people doing wine tours in the area. I have no idea how the New Mexico Board of Tourism backed them without a proper winery, but they did. We got the tour, which included a view of a tiny room with a bunch of TV screens, where we could see ourselves. They had cameras on every inch of the property. It was not like any other Harvest Host we had been to.
But I digress.
We were tasting wine in the tasting room/bedroom, at an antique table within view of our host’s unmade bed and laundry room, when she proceeded to tell us all about the neighborhood; including that she had been sexually assaulted by one of her neighbors. The assault had allegedly taken place in the room where we were sitting, just a couple of months prior, in full view of the many cameras all over the place, but she told us the man was still not in jail. This also did not make us feel better about camping there overnight.
The final crack was when we were headed back to our RV. The hosts had offered to let us use their bathroom (we only use the RV one for emergencies, and we hadn’t yet figured out the water pump), and when we walked through the motorcycle garage you need to walk through to get to the “winery,” we saw Nazi and Confederate flags.
I consider myself a tolerant person. I am liberal politically, but I can accept other points of view. I draw the line at fucking Nazis, though. And I think most people do.
Needless to say, now we really wanted to get the heck out of there.
We again decided that making a break for it now would be too awkward, plus it was dark, the roads were windy and unfamiliar, we were in an RV, and we had both drank the equivalent of about two glasses of wine at our bedside tasting. We decided the best course of action would be to get out of there as soon as possible in the morning, and to let Harvest Hosts and everyone else know to stay away from this place.
The people had been nice to us, but the place was so dirty, and so below standards … and it just made me sick to my stomach to think of a Black or Jewish person coming there as part of Harvest Hosts, or wine tasting for a birthday party, and seeing a Nazi party flag and other racist nonsense so prominently displayed. We notified Harvest Hosts, the NM Board of Tourism, and put a detailed public post on Facebook and Google reviews.
In the two weeks or so since we left that place, they apparently got wind of our posts, because they have now claimed that their dirty garage with the lawn chairs and motorcycle parts and Amazon boxes in it was actually a “military museum,” and those multiple racist icons and flags were just, like, exhibits on display. Makes sense, right? Because that’s how you would display a flag in a museum, draped over some boxes, or hanging up next to where you and your buddies sit around and smoke cigarettes? That’s your priceless artifact, there as an educational tool, next to the bottle of cleanser?
Come on. Look at those photos. This ain’t a museum; and it ain’t a winery. It’s a couple of racist, white trash people who learned how to make homemade wine, trying to pretend they are better than they are.
I believe that these flags were and are a statement. You don’t pick them up accidentally, you don’t display them without knowing what they are, and you don’t display them unless you believe in them. This dump was nothing close to a museum, but even if it was, just for the sake of argument, there is no museum that would display racist icons like this without explanation or context, if at all. A racist flag in a dirty garage is just that.
That’s all I am going to say about it, because they are also claiming they called New Mexico state police, because they say we stole priceless military artifacts from their “military museum,” and they are trying to get their friends to harass me on social media. They even found an old photo from September, of my sister and I, and added it to their sprawling Facebook post, claiming that she and I were the ones who visited, when of course, it was Nichelina and I, and of course we didn’t steal anything. They have the tapes to prove where we were every second we were on their property, so I am not worried about the cops. I know we didn’t steal, and I know we did the right thing by telling people about this place. No regrets.
I will say that I am disappointed in Harvest Hosts for allowing these people back on to their program after removing them, but I suppose they were convinced about the military museum thing. I still have a Google review active, so hopefully visitors will check first before visiting. I am still wary of any people of color coming to visit, but I assume they would have taken down the troublesome flags by now.
UPDATE: OMG YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE THIS. A week or so after I published this, the online harassment started by (I can now name and tag them) Wicked Kreations continued, and I received a Facebook message from someone I don’t know.
I am also happy to report that Harvest Hosts has removed these people from their app now. I spoke to them, and they explained that Wicked Kreations was temporarily removed when I showed them the flags, but reinstated when they provided HH with paperwork showing that they were a “military museum.” (You all know my opinion on that.)
Harvest Hosts explained that they had to give these people the benefit of the doubt, which I understand, but now that this has happened, I think they understand what kind of people they’re dealing with here. I really love Harvest Hosts, so I’m very happy it all came out well … except, of course, for that guy at the grocery store on Thanksgiving.
I guess if that’s the worst and craziest thing that happens to us on this trip, we’ll be just fine, right?
New Mexico is stunning, and the landscape is much more varied than you might imagine if you’ve never visited. There are mountains and plains, arid deserts and green valleys. We were at high elevation and it was early November, so it was very sunny, yet cold, and the ground was frozen.
It was beautiful.
As I mentioned before, New Mexico has a great wine scene. They have the usual whites and reds, but because grapes are so hard to grow in New Mexico, local producers often incorporate lots of other fruits and herbs. The unnamed Nazis made some wine from strawberries and others from native chokecherries.
Our next Harvest Host was like we have come to expect: wide-open spaces, lovely vineyards, warm hospitality, no racist flags of any kind.
Wines of the San Juan has an adorable little outdoor seating area as well as a small tasting room and gift shop, plus they offered electric and water hookups, which is really nice when your generator is super loud.
When we arrived at Wines of the San Juan, we noticed a lot of other farms nearby, but apparently a small, local lavender farm produces enough lavender for WSJ to make a delicious lavender wine. It tastes like a slightly fruity white wine, but has a strong lavender scent and taste. It’s wonderful. They also make a sweet cherry pie wine and other blackberry and fruity blends. It was probably the most variety we saw in any of our wine tasting travels on this leg of the trip.
The rest of the trip to San Diego went fairly quickly … we went west on a remote highway that went back and forth a couple of times between Arizona and Utah. It was cold and dry and remote.
It was also spectacularly beautiful.
Part of the drive went through the Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument, which has some of the most beautiful rock formations you’ve ever seen. We had to stop for a few minutes to enjoy the scenery, take some pictures, and let Dego stretch his paws.
Then we spent a couple of nights with friends in Las Vegas (who have been quarantining), and from there straight into southern California. In San Bernardino, we ran into some issues trying to find a free spot to park — no Harvest Hosts were nearby, so we went to a Wal-Mart, only to be kicked out around midnight. Apparently the store parking thing doesn’t work if you’re in a city or county that doesn’t allow overnight parking or camping; which is most of southern California. Eventually we found a cool security guard at a Costco who let us park there for a few hours, but it was technically illegal.
Aaah, but to be back in Ocean Beach. We left the San Bernardino parking lot super early and we were back in Ocean Beach and enjoying the salty air and the warm sun by noon.
We’ve basically been on the beach all week… parking at various friends’ homes at night and sitting at the beach all day.
My stepbrother visited us and showed us cool things about my RV, like how to light the stove, adjust the water pressure, and empty the black tank (I did read the manual on those things, but hadn’t done them yet). But every day on the beach ends with a lovely sunset out the front window.
I am spending Thanksgiving at my brother’s while Nichelina and Dego and Dolly are in San Diego, and we will meet up again this weekend and head back east on Tuesday (after more doctor’s visits and scans on Monday). In the meantime, we feel better about cooking in the RV and emptying the tanks if we need to.
I also had another sitting with my friend Missy, who runs the Breast Cancer Portrait Project. If you haven’t seen it, it’s really an amazing and inspiring body of work, telling the stories and sharing photos of women who were under 40 when they were diagnosed with breast cancer.
I sat for a session with Missy about a year ago, when I was celebrating being a survivor. Now that cancer is back, she offered to come to the beach and photograph me again in my RV.
I strongly recommend that you visit her site and her social media and support this amazing project.
I will update soon with the next leg of the trip. The tentative plan now is to head due east, stopping in Houston and Louisiana on the way back to Tennessee. We will definitely enjoy the scenery and the Harvest Hosts and the food, but Nichelina and I both promised our moms we would be on the east coast by Christmas, so we can’t lag too much.
I just completed part 2 of the best bucket list road trip ever. I learned a few things about camping in a van, about the quality of fast food, and I (re-)learned how much I love — and just enjoy being around — my family.
First things first, if for some reason you don’t follow me on Facebook or Instagram or Twitter (shame on you!), you probably have not been informed that my last scans, which I had in San Diego, looked really good!
Unfortunately, barring some sort of miracle, I don’t really have a lot to look forward to medically other than hoping the tumors don’t get bigger (hurting my bones more or breaking them) or spread elsewhere (a big concern especially for the lesions on my skull) — but that’s just what happened! All of the tumors either shrunk or stayed the same size, and luckily one of the big ones on my skull they were worried about, shrunk by like, a lot.
So it was the best news I could have hoped for.
After I left San Diego, I went to see my ex-stepdad in San Bernardino for an hour or so, then went on to my brother’s house in Oxnard (just north of Los Angeles).
To make a very long story very short, my dad was married before he married my mom. I never knew the woman he married, or her son, my half-brother. For some reason, our father was adamant that my sister and I never meet our brother, and we never did … and after my parents divorced, our father showed us his true colors, and we moved on and didn’t think much about his side of the family at all.
A couple of years ago, on Facebook, I searched my half-brother’s name on a whim (his name was literally all I knew about him, after all), and found a guy who I thought was my brother. His name could have changed. But then, I looked at his photo, and let’s just say, I was sure we were related. Over the last two years, I started to get to know him and his wife, and it’s really been amazing. I even have a “new” niece and nephew.
Then, this diagnosis came.
I wasn’t going to get more time to get to enjoy the loving and fun relationship I just found, this extra side of my family I never knew existed. It’s a harsh realization.
But, we’re going to try to make up for that.
The plan was for me to meet up at his house in Oxnard, then drive through the southwest for a few days on our way to Houston to see our other sister. (It is becoming clear to me that I will basically be travelling between Tennessee and San Diego quite a bit, so I am happy to have my sister’s place in Houston as a sort-of-halfway point to rest.) The three of us hadn’t spent any time together at all except for right when I got out of the hospital, and I could barely move, then.
My brother and I changed our plans several times. First, we talked about going to Vegas and the Grand Canyon, then considered both traffic (at the canyon) and Covid-19 (in Vegas). Then, we talked about going to Dodge City, then quickly realized a) we didn’t have time to go that far east before heading to Houston in three days, and b) there is nothing to do in Dodge City. We were also trying to plot our route along where some cool Harvest Hosts places are, but many are closed for either the pandemic or the season.
We finally settled on driving in a general easterly direction, stopping briefly in Vegas for a quick photo shoot, then driving to Zion National Park instead of the Grand Canyon. We also wanted to go through New Mexico and see Roswell, and maybe Carlsbad Canyons. We had a general plan, but not an itinerary.
On the Road Again
My brother insisted on leaving his house at an ungodly hour, so I got to see the sunrise touched with a bit of smog and haze and wildfire smoke while he drove the van.
In Vegas, we took our obligatory sign photo …
… and I gave Trump hotel a little salute on behalf of those of us with pre-existing conditions.
But it was still morning, so we barely spent any time in Vegas. I lost $10 at the slot machines in Circus Circus, I washed my hands about 10 times, and then we were back on the road.
The real breathtaking views — like, it will literally take your breath away — were in Zion National Park.
Photos don’t even do it justice (although I will say, my iPhone 8 was taking some great shots!). Thank goodness for Teddy Roosevelt’s foresight to set aside and protect National Parks, because they are the most amazing places.
Zion has guided tours on a tram, but also a self-guided driving tour with a really cool windy road, which luckily has points where you can stop and take pictures.
It was really an incredible afternoon. We could have spent a week there exploring all of the mountains, trails and little villages nearby.
There was also a super-cool thing that you probably don’t know about if you’ve never been to Zion … but there is a weird hole in one of the mountains that looks man-made but might not be …
After wondering aloud what the heck that could be, my brother and I took the driveable trail that goes through one of the mountain tunnels. It was completed in 1930, so it’s wicked narrow and super dark, and of course has no electricity or infrastructure apart from the actual road and tunnel. It turns out, that hole in the mountain is a way to get light into the tunnel without electricity.
On our way to Vegas from California, we stopped at McDonald’s somewhere in the desert. Mostly because it was the only place to stop. We were thinking about lunch at a diner near Yermo that apparently has awesome food and cool movie memorabilia, but it was kind of gross and empty when we arrived.
I basically used their ladies’ room, took this photo with a creepy Elvis, and left.
After our cruise through Zion National Park, we were planning to spend the night at a Harvest Hosts spot, a trading post in Navajo country almost at the Four Corners (of Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and Colorado).
After a very long and very beautiful drive — which was surprisingly diverse, in my opinion (you expect the desert to only look a certain way, but in northern Arizona and New Mexico and southern Utah, you see an amazing variety of rocks, formations, mountains, flora, and even weather) — we came to the trading post, but it was very dark at night and there was no phone reception. It seemed a little too sketchy, so we kept driving to a small town in northwestern New Mexico to get a motel room for the night.
We arrived almost exactly at 10 p.m., but everything was closed. Everything except– wouldn’t you know it — the McDonald’s. My poor brother drove all around Farmington, New Mexico looking for any kind of food, but eventually went to the McDonald’s because that was all that was available. We ate enough to not be starving anymore, but then we both felt kind of gross.
The next day, it was time for something better.
We weren’t far from Santa Fe, and I had a good friend who has spent a lot of time there. We arrived just in time for lunch, and at her suggestion stopped in the center of town — the Plaza, as they call it.
We were excited for anything that didn’t come in a paper bag and have fries and a drink included. We found the Cowgirl BBQ restaurant, where (appropriately socially distanced) we had some amazing drinks and spicy food.
New Mexico is famous for its chiles, and I ordered their Smoked Chicken Short Stack, which was a stack of blue corn tortillas layered with smoked chicken, then topped with chile sauce.
I got it Christmas style, or red and green together. It was … definitely spicy. The chicken had an amazing smoked flavor and the tortillas were nice and fresh.
We hit the road again, headed to Roswell, then to Carlsbad Caverns. Halfway between the two was another Harvest Hosts stop, this time a winery. When I called them ahead of time to let them know we were coming, they informed us that it was lasagna night, so in addition to a place to camp, we could taste some wine and have a nice dinner. It was like we almost could get over having nothing but fast food the day before.
Roswell is … interesting. I expected that some of the town would be trying to bank on the weird alien landing story, but wow.
The sign for the Dunkin’ Donuts had an alien holding it up.
The gas station had green moonmen waving you in to the car wash.
The street signs look like this:
WE GET IT. THERE ARE ALIENS.
The UFO Museum was very cool, complete with full replicas…
… of the alien autopsy and other parts of the legendary story of the Roswell alien landing.
Honestly, some of it was more than a little creepy.
I will say that the UFO Museum, at least, took social distancing and Covid precautions very seriously. Everyone was masked, there was a machine at the door that took your temperature, and there was a strict 6-feet distancing policy.
I kind of wanted to just get out of there before someone offered me an alien-shaped burger or something. Plus, I had lasagna to eat. We had to get on the road to the Balzano Family Winery so we could have dinner and some wine before it got dark.
This is a really great Harvest Hosts spot. If you aren’t familiar with Harvest Hosts, it is an RV owners’ program wherein you pay an annual fee, and you can park your rig (or converted cargo van as it were) for free at various locations. Most of them are farms, breweries, distilleries, wineries and attractions, but you can also expand your membership to golf courses.
Anyway, we set up the van (electric hookups are always a plus), then went to their lovely garden area for dinner. It’s not a restaurant, but a winery and gift shop, and apparently they also have dinner nights.
We stumbled luckily upon lasagna night, and we ordered a bottle of the Montepulciano to wash it down.
The pecan pie was also slammin’.
It was very, very nice.
In the morning, we rose with the sun, and took a few photos of the lovely sunrise over the desert.
For the most part, 2020 was one of the worst times to decide to take a nationwide road trip. Unfortunately, my clock is ticking, so I have to hit the road, pandemic or no. But half of the cool places to visit are closed or irreparably affected.
Others, like Carlsbad Caverns, are better.
We checked the website before we arrived (a MUST when traveling anywhere these days), and it advised to come early, because they often sell out of tickets before 9 a.m.
They only allow people to visit the cave a few at a time. We got a ticket for one of the first tour groups (8:45 a.m.) and I had my walker with me because my back was hurting.
So, with the combination of our early ticket time and my handicap, we got to take the elevator down to the caverns, which shaved about 45 minutes off of the walk down. Which meant that as we entered the cave, the first group of tourists (from 8 a.m.) were still descending.
We were practically alone. In the caverns.
They tell you to keep your voice to a whisper, because any noise reverberates like crazy. I’ve seen photos and videos of tourists in the caverns, and they’re always super close to each other, and the videos sound like there’s a ton of background noise (probably all of those people whispering to each other).
But this was practically silent.
We didn’t go far (it’s a hike for healthy people and my back wasn’t just up to it), but we saw about half of the public part of the cave, and that was a lot.
The lighting inside makes the rocks look like living creatures or spooky ghouls, and being in there in near-silence doesn’t hurt, either.
After Carlsbad, we headed southeast to see our sister in Houston. If you’ve ever been through west Texas, you’ll know that part of the trip isn’t much to write about other than the fried chicken. The chicken livers at Bush’s Fried Chicken in Pecos were legit.
Check out my next post for the shenanigans we got up to in Houston, and my trip further east to an alpaca farm and my mom’s house. I’ll be at my mom’s for a couple of weeks while I get my RV ready to hit the road!
I moved out of my apartment in San Diego, the adorable beach bungalow where I spent 14 crazy years. I left all of my lovely friends and my boyfriend. Most of my stuff has been sold or donated. The rest was crammed into a cargo van and hauled 2,258 miles (give or take) to my mom’s house. I am comfortable here – goodness knows it’s nice to relax after that crazy fast drive from California – and my family is great, but I literally have no home to move into.
I am still waiting on my RV; I found the one I think I want in a town nearby. It needs new tires so the owner/seller has offered to deduct half of the cost of new tires from my purchase price. I am waiting to hear from him about a new microwave he is installing, and hopefully I will be bringing my new-to-me RV here to my mom’s house this week. Then, I plan to take at least a few days to spruce it up and get it ready to hit the road — plus I gotta find a road trip buddy.
In the meantime, east Tennessee is amazingly beautiful and I am enjoying my rest here.
Our family moved from California to Tennessee once before, when I was about 12 or 13. My mom, my sister and I were living with my grandmother in Joshua Tree, then we all moved to Cookeville, Tennessee. I had more of a culture shock moving here then I did when I was in high school and did an exchange program in Germany.
It was all so different from what I was used to seeing landscape-wise, in the high desert east of Los Angeles; but also the culture is so different in so many ways.
The lush greenery. The churches on every corner. The super-thick, country accents coming out of the mouths of people of every age. The smoky haze hanging over the tops of the trees. The roads that make no sense. The juxtaposition of torn-up trailers with rebel flags hanging outside, and stately farmhouses with perfectly manicured lawns. The liquor laws that change every few miles … where you can’t even have a glass of wine with dinner in one county, but in the next county five miles over, you can buy anything you like. Pickup trucks EVERYWHERE.
It was like another world. As my little sister and I were getting used to changes — spending the night with friends and having homemade biscuits in the morning (which at the time seemed impossibly fancy), farm work on the weekends, and prayers in our public school classrooms — we were also keeping up the recipes that warmed our hearts no matter where we were living.
My grandma was a Scottish immigrant in the late 1950s. I don’t know much about the food she cooked when she was in Scotland, but I imagine that she thought her fancy “Macaroni Mix” was very American. It’s basically a spicy spaghetti sauce, but tossed with elbow macaroni instead of spaghetti noodles. It uses up all of the extra veggies you have in your fridge. It feeds a bunch of hungry people. It’s super chunky, and my grandma’s version had a ton of ground beef, chopped onions and bell peppers. (Because I hated bell peppers, I was allowed to remove the chunks from my macaroni mix, but I had to eat the rest.)
Somehow, this macaroni mix became a family favorite. My mom still says it was the best dish and best recipe my grandma made (for me it was her barley soup, which you can find the recipe for here). My aunts and uncle would request Macaroni Mix for their birthday meal – the one time each year they got to choose what the family ate for dinner.
The meal is obviously not complicated or expensive (in fact, I am positive that is one of the reasons Grandma made it so much), but for us, it represents everything about home. It’s warm and comforting, it’s cheap and easy, it’s wholesome and healthy.
This time moving to Tennessee, it’s temporary. It’s the same, but different. The mountains are still smoky, the trees are still a luscious green, and the sunsets are still achingly beautiful. The accents are the same. There are still churches everywhere, but there are also reflexologists. The liquor laws are still wonky, but you can find homemade kombucha and craft beer around the corner …. er, mountain.
This time, it’s “Trump 2020” flags flying outside of the rundown trailers.
The roads still don’t make any sense.
But we still have Grandma’s macaroni mix, which reminds us that we’re back home.
Try the recipe:
1 lb. package of elbow macaroni
1 lb. ground beef
2-3 tablespoons minced garlic
1 large onion, chopped
1 green bell pepper, chopped (optional)
any leftover veggies in your fridge (recommended: carrots, squash/zucchini, okra)
5-6 fresh mushrooms, chopped
1 large (24 oz) can of pasta sauce (recommended: Hunt’s Four Cheese)
1 small can of Rotel (or any kind of diced tomatoes and green chiles)
1 small can of plain tomato sauce
2-3 generous handfuls of shredded cheddar cheese
1/2 tsp. ground sage
1 tsp. oregano
1-2 dashes Worcestershire sauce
1-2 tsp. steak seasoning (any blend of red and black pepper, garlic, paprika)
salt and pepper
seasoned kosher salt (optional)
grated parmesan cheese (for topping)
Start a large pot of water boiling and in a separate (preferably cast-iron) pan, brown the beef and diced onion. Once the meat starts to brown, add the Worcestershire, the sage and steak seasoning, and the garlic, mushrooms, and other veggies (except the cans of tomatoes/sauces). Mix thoroughly as it continues to cook.
By this time the water should also be boiling. Add kosher salt (seasoned with rosemary or other herbs if you have it) and pasta to the water, and cover the pot.
Once the pasta, meat and veggies are fully cooked, drain the pasta and add the meat/veggie mixture into the pot. Turn off the heat. Add the cans of tomatoes and tomato sauces. Mix thoroughly. (Note: depending on how “wet” you like it, you might want to add another small can of tomato sauce at this point. This is usually where I think that this isn’t enough sauce, but then I just go with it, and it comes out perfectly.)
Mix the shredded cheese, mix completely, and then taste it before adding salt and pepper as desired. Serve immediately with grated parmesan on top.
NOTE: keep in mind that this is a Grandma Recipe. The measurements are not exact, and the basics can be adapted. It doesn’t matter what type of onion you use. If you only have rotini pasta instead of elbow noodles, do it. If you prefer ground turkey to beef, change it. I prefer to make this without bell peppers because bell peppers are gross, but I have been informed by other family members that it’s not “really Grandma’s recipe” if it doesn’t have the bell peppers. Make it how you prefer to eat it!
– – –
I spent many years in Cookeville, and later I went to college at Tennessee State University in Nashville. But I never really spent very much time in the eastern part of the state, which is where my mom lives now.
Check out my Instagram and Facebook pages for more photos! Links to the right –>
Since this is all new to me, we took some cool drives to nearby towns. We visited Historic Downtown Jonesborough, which is the oldest town in Tennessee, and where the first abolitionist papers were published.
It’s a very adorable town, even in the summer heat and humidity.
We also stopped at the Nolichucky River and enjoyed the scenery …
… on our way to Asheville, North Carolina, which is only about 50 miles away. The drive there was amazing — 40 or so miles, on an interstate, where you feel like you’re literally in the clouds. You see why they call these the Smokies.
I will update this space soon, when I either purchase this RV, or keep up my search.
Want to help me out on my road trip? Donate to my GoFundMe campaign here.
The doctors say I have 2-3 years left, maximum. And they said that two months ago. I feel like I’m a ticking time bomb … I need to get on the road and start my bucket list trip before I can’t do it anymore.
I feel great right now, by the way. I have a few aches and twinges in my back, which could just as easily be from sitting for hours at a time in a van or just getting old as they could be from the tumors that are all over my spine.
The reason that this portion of the trip is the prologue is because I am not officially on my full RV adventure yet — this is just the preparatory part. I sold and gave away the majority of my things, and some stuff I will bring with me in my RV, but some I want to save, just in case I don’t die.
I am on my way to look at an RV for sale, and then I will keep on going to my mom’s house. If I don’t buy this RV I am going to see, then the search will continue. If I love it and buy it, then the adventure is really about to start.
But first, we gotta get to Tennessee.
Monday morning, we left San Diego. We packed the last of my food from the fridge and my blankets off of my bed. We got in the van at about 9:30 a.m., picked up a few beverages for the road, dropped off my keys with my property manager, and within an hour, we were out of San Diego. (But not for the last time; I have a doctor’s appointment on September 2, so I can’t dillydally in the South for too long.)
If you’re not familiar with this drive (east of San Diego), there is basically an enormous desert mountain range at the east end of San Diego county, and to get to Imperial County (and on to Arizona) you have to go up to a 4,000+ elevation and back down again.
Through the desert.
With no air conditioning.
I drove to El Centro; a little less than three hours (because I was driving a fully-loaded cargo van), and then Mom took over.
She basically did all of the driving through Arizona…
New Mexico …
and into west Texas.
This left me plenty of time to take pictures of everything we passed, and of course to put on my pink sunglasses and pretend we were driving through Bat Country.
By the time we got past El Paso, it was late at night, and I took over driving the longest and most boring stretch of road ever. We probably could have stopped to rest, but frankly, it was finally not 100+ degrees because it was nighttime, so we figured we would keep going as long as we weren’t too tired.
And thanks to a well-timed sugar-free Red Bull, I was totally ready to keep going.
Seriously, if you’ve ever driven through West Texas, it’s not something you’d forget. It seems like it’s never going to end.
Mom took over driving again, and as the sun came up, we were just a few hours away from my sister’s house in Houston.
Might as well keep on going, right?
Once we finally arrived in Houston, we were (understandably) wired, exhausted and hungry. We both took very long showers and very long naps, and generally recharged our batteries.
We did the longest and most stressful stretch of the trip, and Gracie the cargo van performed beautifully.
We also went for a short drive around town (mercifully, my brother-in-law was driving his Suburban so we could give Gracie the cargo van a break).
Houston is really quite lovely — when you have good air conditioning.
I got to check out some of Houston’s amazing public art and street art. It really is very impressive the way Houston has encouraged and subsidized art all over the city. (Check out my Instagram page for more.)
Two nights in Houston was just what the doctor ordered … we were rested and ready to hit the road again Thursday morning.
We kept the drive interesting by listening to the Democratic convention speech of my favorite president…
…. and I took tons of (not terribly bad) photos of the bayou and the lakes around New Orleans.
We are making our way through Mississippi and Alabama tonight. I will update after I check out an RV for sale. Maybe this trip will start for real this week!
Next stop, Tennessee!
(If you would like to donate to my bucket list road trip, please check out my GoFundMe campaign here.)
Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose …
Janis wasn’t lying about freedom, but for me it seems like the freedom I need before I kick the bucket is coming at the price of losing everything else that I care about. Last night, my kitty (also named Janis, after the legendary singer) went on a road trip to stay with my brother and his family, probably forever.
I am the only parent she’s ever known and my home is the only home she’s ever known. I know she will be in the best care and that this is the best option for us both. I know I can come visit her and see her every time I talk to my brother. But my house feels achingly empty this morning. I keep looking outside, expecting to see her walking up my stairs. There’s a hole in my heart.
I won’t see my boyfriend for at least two weeks, and while I don’t see him as often as I would like anyway, I feel like I can handle leaving him better than leaving Janis. At least he understands what’s happening. Janis must have been so confused and scared (and certainly mad) at first. Hopefully she will adapt and be happy there sooner rather than later.
But I really haven’t cried much, with my diagnosis and prognosis, and with all of the craziness of moving and buying an RV and planning an epic road trip that will literally be the last fun and crazy thing I do. I haven’t felt sorry for myself or blamed or denied or deflected or comforted myself with drugs or fallen into depression. But now, sitting here in a nearly empty apartment, I can’t stop crying.
And I’ve got to hit the road. Like, tomorrow.
My search for the perfect RV in southern California has not been fruitful. The market is crazy right now because of the pandemic – everyone wants an RV for a vacation instead of hitting up theme parks and crowded hotels. There’s never a good time to have cancer, but this is a singularly bad time to decide to take a kickass road trip, for sure.
So I decided to take (some of) my stuff to Tennessee, to my mom’s place, and try to find an RV from there. The market is better, the registration is cheaper, and I need to be out of this apartment in San Diego by end of business on Monday (i.e. tomorrow). Renting a one-way moving van is prohibitively expensive — seriously, $2,700 for the smallest moving truck, without gas, without insurance, and without the added mileage fees. I actually saved money by buying outright a used cargo van.
Meet Gracie. She’s not much to look at, but she will get us from California to Tennessee.
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Once, my late grandmother and I were watching TV. I was about 13. I can’t remember the exact context of what we witnessed on the TV show we were watching, but it was basically a bad guy getting his comeuppance, by way of multiple well-deserved punches to the face.
My grandmother turned to me and said, “at some point, everyone needs the universe to kick them in the ass. Maybe it’s not an actual ass-kicking, maybe it’s just a lesson. But if you need it, God gives it to you. Sometimes right in the kisser.”
Grandma’s relationship with God, as far as I knew, was … tenable. She had converted to evangelical Christianity for like five minutes in Britain as a young woman, when she, along with millions of others, was captivated by Billy Graham. That didn’t last long. I know she believed in a higher power, but that was the first real time I had heard her speak about God that way.
I’ve thought about that a lot of times since I have been fighting cancer. Was breast cancer part of a karmic retribution? Was it karma paying me back for that time I didn’t recycle? Or maybe grandma finally having it out with me about that glass punch bowl I broke?
Grandma had a lot of interesting views about karma and dying – she once famously said that if she were ever told she had months left on earth, she would make a list of people she hated — even though I doubt she could count the number of enemies she had on one hand.
And being a murderous, avenging cancer patient kinda has a ring to it. (It would probably make a good movie (*Copyright!) — but now that it’s happening to me, it’s not how I would have imagined it.
It’s heartbreaking. I have to leave my friends, my boyfriend, my family and my cat (not necessarily in that order). I have time to say goodbye, which is great, but also excruciating.
It’s momentous. What if everything I read about heaven and hell is actually true? What can I do in my last months to really make the world a better place?
It’s stressful. I have to clean out my apartment, and sell or give away nearly everything I own. I have to find an RV that’s relatively small and easy to handle, yet within my price range.
I have to plan to die.
The last thing I want to waste my time on is hating someone and making my last days all about them instead of me. I know it sounds selfish, but if there’s anytime to say “hey, this is what I WANT so I am making it happen no matter what,” it’s now.
Knowing your time is short – but not knowing how short – is really difficult. Moving is stressful under any circumstances. Travelling the country is hard to plan under any circumstances. Preparing for your imminent demise adds a whole nother layer of weird.
And the clock is ticking.
Maybe I will be dead in six months and none of this will matter. But I can’t help feeling like I have to hit the road. Like, as soon as possible.
At this point, I am frustrated. It feels like that time before a plan comes together, when you feel like maybe you made a mistake in undertaking this huge project. Sometimes that part comes right before everything works out perfectly. Sometimes this part comes right before it all blows up in your face.
Either way, I have to be out of this apartment in just over a week. If I don’t get an RV in the next couple of days (I have a good feeling about one I am going to go see in the morning), I will be taking my stuff to my mom’s house in Tennessee, and then starting my RV search from there. I should be able to find something for a better price there, too.
But that’s Plan B. Plan A is still to hit the road in 8 days, in an RV that I currently do not have. Both seem pretty terrifying.
I don’t know if this stress and insanity is life kicking me in the teeth. I don’t know if cancer coming back, this time with a vengeance, is some sort of karmic retribution for something I did in a past life (or even God forbid, in this one). I don’t know why this is happening to me.
But I know I have to make it count for something.
My grandma was a strong, and slightly crazy, woman. She had left her home country of Scotland at barely 18 years old, escaping an abusive husband with a two-year old (my mother) and an infant. She raised 6 kids on a budget while working full-time and running a household. She doted on her grandchildren and became a Quaker late in life. If anyone knew the value of life, it was Grandma.
I hope that, for her sake, I can take this punch to the chin and remain standing.
Grandma was also an amazing cook. The last week before I went to the hospital, I was craving a big bowl of hot soup, so I adapted her barley beef stew for the Instant Pot. It was a great, hearty meal (actually many, many meals), and it in the IP, you can make it in the summer without heating up your kitchen too much.
Grandma’s Barley Soup
(adapted for the Instant Pot)
1 lb. ground beef
1 lb. fresh mushrooms, sliced
6 oz. dried pearl barley (about half a bag)
1 large white onion, diced
2 stalks fresh celery, diced
2 large carrots, diced
2-3 tbsp. (minimum) diced garlic
2 tsp. dried thyme
2 tsp. dried rosemary
2 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. cumin
salt and pepper to taste
1 liter water*
2 tabs of beef bouillon or Bisto**
Put the Instant Pot on the sauté setting and add the onions, garlic, celery and carrot. Once the vegetables are slightly cooked (2-3 minutes) add the beef and brown thoroughly.
Turn the Instant Pot off, and add the spices, mushrooms, bouillon, barley and water. Mix thoroughly. Note: you do not need to pre-soak the barley; the Instant Pot will do all of the work.
Place the lid on the Instant Pot, and make sure the vent is closed. Set on High Pressure for 45 minutes. Release naturally.
*You may need to add extra water or broth at the end, Grandma always made a soup like a stew, and a stew practically like a casserole. It’s gonna be thick.
** Grandma was British so she loved Bisto, which is a popular brand that gives a particular flavor. It’s not as easy to find in the states, so any beef bouillon is perfectly fine for this recipe.
As people start to venture out of doors after sheltering in place, I have reluctantly tried to get some time at local restaurants and neighborhoods. For most of the pandemic, starting in early April, I was having back aches and spasms, so I stayed inside most of the time anyway. I was also a cancer survivor, so I was (and am) in a high-risk category for the Corona virus, so I didn’t take any chances while almost everything was shut down. It was all home cooking and deliveries for me.
Here in California, they opened up most businesses in May and June, just to have a huge wave of new Covid cases, and many things shut back down again. In San Diego, the restaurants are allowed to stay open, but with outdoor seating only (and other rules in place for social distancing, mask wearing, etc.).
Luckily, San Diego is a town with nice weather pretty much all of the time, so lots of places have a bit of outdoor seating already. Now the city is letting businesses build outdoor seating areas in their (already scarce) parking spots, and blocking off certain streets to vehicular traffic for several days to promote local businesses and allow them to expand into the street.
This week, since my mom informed me that she had never been day drinking before, we decided to venture to downtown San Diego and hit a couple of my favorite spots. Masks are not optional on public transportation, and we opted for gloves as well as extra sanitizing wipes.
Aren’t we cute? In a way, it’s frustrating to have to decide between possibly getting sick and leaving your house. I was happy (sort of) to do it a few months ago, but summer weather makes it harder and harder to stay inside. I am glad San Diego found a solution most businesses can work with.
It was a beautiful day, even in a city where we have a lot of beautiful days.
And, it’s really quite ingenious the way businesses have adapted to the pandemic. This is Fifth Avenue, where several restaurants appear to have consolidated their outdoor space to accommodate some day drinking.
So, yeah, about the day drinking. My mom has never really been a big drinker, especially with having kids pretty young and being a single mom with a lot on her plate, she basically didn’t have time to party. And while I am sure she had a drink during the day at least once, it wasn’t on the level of day drinking my girlfriends and I aspire to on a normal (non-cancer, non-pandemic) Sunday afternoon.
Urban India used to have the best lunch buffet in the Gaslamp District, but has taken a hit since the pandemic wiped out all buffets. They still have amazing food, even though they unfortunately had to switch from a successful buffet to a piecemeal situation with delivery apps, takeout orders, and a few patio diners. Their story is similar to millions of other restaurants nowadays.
We were only there for a while, so we ordered some samosas and some drinks. I got the boozy mango lassi.
This is a perfect summer drink, especially when you are eating anything spicy. It’s made with yogurt, milk, fruit, and sweetener, and of course, a couple shots of vodka. You can theoretically use any type of fruit, but mango is the best, particularly for Indian food and spicy meals.
Boozy Mango Lassi
1 cup diced fresh mango or mango puree*
1 cup plain yogurt
1/2 cup milk
1-2 tbsp. white sugar
2 shots (or more) plain vodka
2 cups ice
sprig of mint for garnish
Combine all ingredients in a blender for about a minute and pour into a glass of ice. Garnish with fresh mint and serve immediately.
– – – –
Day drinking, commence!
On to our next stop. I don’t know if you guys feel like I do, but it just doesn’t feel … the same. No-touch menus. Masked servers. I like online ordering, but it seems to me that Murphy is enforcing his law extra-hard during the pandemic: anything that can go wrong is totally going wrong. We really wanted fancy hot dogs at the Dog Haus, but between their app failing, the Doordash connection not working, and the city for some reason removing the patio tables at the Dog Haus while allowing every other restaurant to expand their outdoor patio seating, we decided to scrap that plan.
We ended up at the Carnitas Snack Shack at Broadway and Harbor Drive, enjoying a local beer, a fancy burger and a slightly overcast sunset.
By the way, that’s a triple threat sandwich: a pork schnitzel, pulled pork, delicious bacon, and fancy relish on top of a brioche bun. It’s amazing.
But it got me thinking: I am about to start a nationwide road trip. The last one I’ll ever take. Is the whole country going to be like this? Some businesses just closed, some drastically changed temporarily, some that will never be the same again? I guess there’s never a good time for a pandemic, but this seems unfair.
Come to think of it – there’s never a good time to get cancer, but dang, it really seems like this is a particularly bad time to have cancer.
I am going on this trip — like, no matter what — but I know that most of the cool things I want to do will be closed, cancelled, or cut short. It’s a shame to feel this way when thousands are dead … but this is harsh.
When I originally planned this trip as a kid, it played out much differently in my head. I planned to wait until I retire, buy a huge RV, fix it up, and go on a long, slow, mostly solo trip around the country.
Now it’s so different: it has to be now. Like, right now. I am a ticking time bomb and could get sicker at literally any moment. The RV has to be small and (hopefully) relatively fuel-efficient. I’ll need travel companions; both for general safety and also because I don’t know when or if I will get too sick to be on my own.
And since I will still need to come back to San Diego frequently for doctor’s appointments, scans, and picking up prescriptions – not to mention that all of my erstwhile travel companions probably can’t be on the road with me for more than a couple of weeks at a time – I will have to have multiple short trips (2-3 weeks max) instead of one huge, year-plus-long trip around the nation.
For the first short trip in late August, I plan to go to Montana. I am going to drive north to see some people in the Sacramento area and the Bay Area, and then I will go through Idaho and into Montana, then, if I have time, to the Dakotas and to see Mount Rushmore and the Badlands. I want to go to the cold northern states before winter hits, then when the weather is colder I can go south. I don’t have a specific itinerary – I just want to see everything – but I have a lot of people I want to visit.
Kicking the bucket is hard work.
Hopefully I will be buying my RV this week … I am still searching and I know that the perfect vehicle will present itself at the perfect time.