Val in Real Life LLC

Category: Exploring

Dive in to my adventures and travels of all kinds here. From outdoors to urban and via foor, auto, motorcycle, or as a full-time RVer, I’ve embraced adventures of all kinds.

Fumbling into Full-Time
You know I like to keep it real here in Val in Real Life land. And let me tell you, the last year has been an utter shit-show. And not just because of the pandemic but that’s certainly added to the absurdity of our journey into full-time nomad-hood.
My newsletter readers know much of the story as I’ve relayed it piecemeal each month. But it’s finally time to put it down in one place and get it all out of my head and put the swirling memories to rest through the catharsis of writing. It turns out it requires thousands of words of mental release, so brace yourself, this is going to take a few posts.
Our gamble on this little house paid off but exiting was an ordeal.
Let’s rewind a bit
My dear man and I bought a little house in Dayton, Nevada, several years back. We intended it to be a temporary landing place for us—an investment, not a dream home. And as life goes, we were there longer than we planned.
We kept hunting for the place we wanted to settle down in but we never found an existing house that suited us. We did find a groovy piece of undeveloped property, though.
In the booming northern Nevada economy, getting contractors to even call us back about our little project, much less get work done, turned out to be nearly impossible. They’re not interested in our modest, one-off deal. They want to build high-profit mansions or massive subdivisions. They hold all the cards in that kind of market and we were going nowhere fast.
We had countless happy hours on this front porch.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch
In the meantime, the value of our little investment house was clearly nearing its peak as pressure from surrounding new construction mounted. Plus, all indicators in the economy started pointing toward the beginnings of a recession. We knew we had to sell to get the maximum value. So we listed thinking it would take a several months to land a contract and get through the sale process.
In conjunction with that, we happened to find a contractor who would build a driveway out on our property. Keep in mind, for our oddly-shaped 10-acre patch of dirt and sagebrush, we’re talking about over a quarter-mile of driveway. With a ditch at the road encroachment and a large swale to cross half way in. The project is substantial as driveways go and, in the midst of the construction boom, we were given the we-don’t-really-need-your-business, fuck-you price.
It was heart-stopping. But we needed access to the property to move forward with any other decisions and construction. So we signed on the dotted line with the understanding that the contractor would handle all necessary permits and work would be done within a few weeks.
Why the rush? Well, the house went under contract like lightning. We were deer in the headlights at first. But we figured, we have our toy hauler so we have a place to live. No biggie, right? And with the driveway going in, we would be able to drop some shipping containers on the property to store all our stuff and still have access to it, especially the motorcycles. It was a golden plan.
Enjoying dinner on the ranch, in spite of no house.
Unraveling
But our plan fell apart in spectacular fashion. Out of the blue, the contractor pulled some last-minute bullshit about us needing to get a grading permit. Yes, even after we expressly said he was to obtain all necessary permitting and he agreed to the terms.
By that time, we were in full-on moving mode. Even if we had the time to navigate the permit process, it was painfully clear the driveway wouldn’t be done in time for us to put our belongings in storage on the property. If you know me at all, you’re well aware of the string of profanity that spewed forth from my mouth.
Clearly the contractor simply didn’t want the job. I’m not sure why he wasted his time and ours. It cost us months of time, energy, and anxiety—just to name a few of the swirling emotions we had in the process.
After our heads stopped exploding, we dove into problem-solving mode. We frantically switched gears, found a 400-square-foot storage unit nearby, and started the process of emptying the house. Closing day was approaching like a runaway train.
This is basically the only move-out picture I have. There simply wasn’t time or energy to spend on documenting the process.
Moving sucks
With everything happening so fast, we didn’t have time to manage things well at all. We simply had to react and get it done, even if the result wasn’t ideal. Decision fatigue rained down on us. We busted our asses for weeks on end—trying to keep working in the midst of packing while also attempting to prepare for life as full-time nomads.
All of this was, of course, assuming the house sale went through. Real estate is fraught with about a million ways contracts can fall apart, as we all know. Turns out we were buried three-deep in contingencies. Sure enough, our buyers’ contract on their home in Tennessee fell through.
Now what? We were half moved out. Do we keep plugging away? Do we stop running ourselves ragged until we know what’s going to happen? There wasn’t much time to worry about it, fortunately. Their house was back under contract in quick order. It did buy us a little more time, though. And we wouldn’t have to close on my birthday.
With barely a pause, we were back at it.
What a difference between move-in day and move-out day. I’m not sure I remember what it feels like to be that relaxed.
Fleet management
If you’ve followed along here for any length of time, you know we have a substantial adventure fleet—the Power Wagon (our tow vehicle), my Subaru Forester, our toy hauler, my motorcycle, my dear man’s motorcycle, the sidecar rig, and—wait for it—two non-running motorcycles.
When you’re transitioning to life on the road, having that much overhead is a really big problem. Our plan was to store the Forester and our motorcycles and take the sidecar with us. With the adventure dog along on our journey, we needed something he could ride in.
We needed to sell the non-running bikes. We’d been planning on it for some time anyway and we sure as hell weren’t going to have them take up vital storage space. Fortunately my dear man is a wizard with words and his ads for the defunct motorcycles worked like a charm. The “project” bikes sold quickly but the added time suck and complication in the midst of everything else was less than optimal.
Jettisoning the non-running KLR and Honda CX500 took precious time in our rapid exit.
And, of course we’d neglected the sidecar rig and she was not in great form. She wasn’t running well, if at all. Our fabulous BMW mechanic agreed to get her back up to snuff for us even though the shop doesn’t have a lift for a sidecar rig. The only catch was that he needed extra time to be able to manage the special job. So we schlepped Betty to the shop a few weeks before closing day, hoping he’d be able to finish the work before we had to leave town. It turns out in a dumb luck sort of way, that having it out of the mix during the height of the moving chaos was one of the best things we could have done but we weren’t certain we’d have her back in time.
And, in our attempt to be proactive about heading out to live in the trailer full-time, we took the toy hauler to the RV shop for some minor repairs and upkeep that we didn’t have time to manage on our own. Because we didn’t have enough complications already, delays on a few parts kept it there until two days before we had to be out of the house.
Yep. The “home” we were moving into wasn’t even with us to start moving into as we were moving out. We had no way to prepare it or get settled in. By the time we got it back, we were in the death throes of exiting the house. There wasn’t time to sort life in the trailer so we unceremoniously threw any remaining overstock of food and clothing into the trailer in a fit of desperation. It was pure chaos. There was so much extra stuff in the trailer we could barely move.
No rest for the weary
Exhaustion overtook us in the last few days. There were moments I thought Frankenleg would collapse under me. I was in supreme pain with no other option than to just keep pushing through.
And just for extra fun, the weather went to shit. Snow and rain slowed us down. As did my mistake of renting a little moving truck from our storage facility, not paying attention to the fact that it didn’t have a loading ramp. Fuck me. So we made the best of it for that day and rented a different truck—with a ramp—for the final days. That mistake cost us a lot of crucial time and made everything harder than it had to be.
On closing day, we thought we’d be done by mid-afternoon. What a laughable delusion! And for good measure, the buyers’ funding ended up posting earlier than expected. By mid-morning we technically no longer owned the house. We weren’t even remotely done packing by that time.
Then the cleaners showed up two hours early. We needed to be out of their way so we frantically jettisoned all last remaining flotsam into the garage, adding exponential new levels to the chaos of trying to organize things for storage. But it had to be done.
So we spent the rest of the day exiled to the garage, trying to deal with all of those annoying last bits of stuff, tripping over ourselves, and generally kicking ourselves for not being more pro-active in simplifying our lives before now.
Flinging random items into boxes, it felt like we weren’t getting anywhere. For hours, every box and truckload didn’t seem to make a dent in what was left. Yet our storage unit was filling up quickly.
Our soon-to-be home spent much of its time in situ at our little house but still needed some maintenance before going full blast into full-time life.
Finding the finish line
You’ve seen marathoners crawling to the finish line, their bodies shutting down. That was us. We had no choice but to keep working relentlessly. Eventually we started to see the garage floor. It finally felt like we’d make it even if we were supremely late exiting the house.
The new owners finally stopped by late that evening. They were simply delightful and friendly. They mentioned that they weren’t planning on spending the night there but asked if they could do their laundry. They’d been living in their RV in a nearby park for months and were tired of plugging quarters into the machines in the laundromat there.
I just laughed and said, “Well, it’s your house so have a ball!”
But wait, there’s more
Other full-timers plan for years to transition to life on the road, selling all their belongings and whatnot. We had to be set up to be on the road indefinitely and with the intent of being back in a house one day. So unlike simply moving to a new house, we had the added complication of fitting everything into a storage unit.
The need to arrange it in a way to still have access to certain things from time to time was an absurdly complicated puzzle. The level of decision-making required while exhausted and out of time was beyond overwhelming.
To top it all off, we still hadn’t secured storage for the Forester and motorcycles! Yep, right up until the last hours of the last day. We’d been bogged down in analysis paralysis in trying to figure out the best place to store them. We considered keeping them near the airport for access in quick trips back to town. But the truth is we really had no idea what our returns to the area would look like.
In a last-ditch decision while still packing up the rest of our crap, I called the manager at our storage facility and asked about the size unit we needed. She said, “Well, I have one more but a man is coming to look at it tomorrow to see if he wants it.” I told her I wanted it sight unseen and I’d be there in five minutes to sign the paperwork. She laughed and said, “I guess he’ll just have to do without!” And off I went to rent yet another storage unit.
Seeing us scramble, the new owners of the house offered to let us keep the motorcycles in the garage until the next day. It was a tempting offer but the truth is, we just needed to be done. Mentally, we needed to not have to come back to the house. They were amazingly understanding. I’ll be forever grateful for their kindness and compassion for our situation.
The last-minute vehicle-storage locker.
Hitting the road
In one moment of decent decision-making in all of this—maybe the only one—we deliberately planned to stay in the area at a full hook-up RV park for our first week as nomads. We knew we would need to get our feet under us and put some finishing touches on our affairs in Nevada before being gone indefinitely.
We chose full hook-ups not because we enjoy RV parks but because we wanted to reduce what we had to manage at first. Not having to stress about water and waste storage removed a lot of extra mental cycles from the equation. Plus, it was winter. Remember all the rain and snow during the move-out? That meant we needed to make sure we could protect our systems from freezing. That’s way easier to do while fully connected.
We had a stroke of good fortune just as we were preparing to leave. Our mechanic got the sidecar rig finished the afternoon before we were due to blow out of Carson City. So we dropped everything to blast up to Sierra BMW in Sparks to retrieve her. And she ran beautifully!
We picked up Betty just in the nick of time before leaving town. And Scott had her running like a dream.
With our first week behind us and feeling a little bit more together, it was time to become full-timers in earnest. Our first stop was Scottsdale, Arizona, to spend Christmas with our friends there. So we headed out for the 700-plus-mile journey, giving ourselves what we thought was a leisurely four days to make the trip.
Three days into our new adventure, the Power Wagon told us to fuck off. Yep, the thing that would tow our house from one place to the next took a giant crap in BFE Arizona.
But that’s a story for next time.
The old beast gave up the ghost early in our transition. An extensive string of WTF-are-we-gonna-do days followed.
Our first nomadic happy hour was severely cold but we were determined to celebrate the end of a very challenging time. Or what we thought was the end.
October 31, 2020
The Chipmunk Incident
You folks don’t have a pet chipmunk, do you?
That’s the question a neighbor asked us upon returning to camp after a long day away in town. Imagine our confusion. Because well, no, in fact we don’t.
We’d exited early that morning to drive the 70 miles to the nearest sizable town. We needed better cell service to participate in a virtual meeting, visit the laundromat, resupply groceries quite unexpectedly, and run to the hardware store for some unfortunate trailer supplies. We were ambitious enough to think we’d be able to get in a shower too. Silly us. Something had to give.
But let’s back up a bit.
Oh, why hello little “friend.”
The visitor
We’re camping at Great Basin National Park at the moment. A couple of days ago we ventured into the small town of Baker, Nevada to mail a Sierra Mountain Passes order. We arrived back “home” to a little surprise. An uninvited visitor had clearly been partaking of our hospitality.
Our chipmunk friend saw fit to chew through a window screen and make itself at home. Finding no buffet waiting, it decided not to stick around for our return. Or so we thought.
Over happy hour, I joked with my dear man that with the exception of a small screen hole to repair, our unexpected visitor left only footprints. How very Leave No Trace of it.
We have to joke, you see, because it’s one of the only things keeping us sane lately.
We thought it was a simple situation with the first hole.
If only it had stopped at leaving footprints.
If at first you don’t succeed
Our little friend decided to visit again the next day while we were gone handling all of the above-mentioned, tiresome tasks. Try, try again it did after not succeeding in a feast the previous day. We anticipated another visit from it, though, knowing they’re persistent little buggers. So we made sure all the windows were closed before we left.
Our camp neighbor walked up to us after we pulled in that afternoon and asked us that question. He said the chipmunk was sitting in the window for a long time chewing on the screen. We looked at the window and saw the shredded carcass of what was once our bedroom screen. He showed us cell phone pictures of the critter sitting in our bedroom window. We were flabbergasted.
It took some time to process and comprehend. We still had so much more to wrap up before we could relax for the evening—perishable groceries in the truck as well as not-entirely-dry laundry. And now this. We almost didn’t know where to begin dealing with it.
We cautiously opened the trailer door expecting a panicked chipmunk to lunge out at us, likely going for our jugulars. Nothing. We inspected around the bedroom and obvious areas. No chipmunk.
It left more than footprints this time, of course. Droppings, urine puddles, and the destroyed screen were part of the offerings. Along with a ravaged cabinet face that we deluded ourselves was its exit point.
The battle weary screen in the bedroom.
The little chipmunk had to be terrified. It was clearly quite a battle to get out of the trailer.
The little critter went apeshit on the screen.
We were wrong
We tended to the tasks of putting away groceries and laundry, eagerly anticipating a well-deserved happy hour. But first I swapped the destroyed screen for the only other matching one in the trailer so we didn’t have to choose between having the bedroom window open with no critter barrier overnight—if even a flimsy one—or sleeping in the equivalent of a sauna.
Feeling like we had averted the crisis, we set our sights on happy hour. First I strolled to the pit toilet, though. Walking back towards the trailer I noticed the bedroom screen looked funny. It was probably the 20th are-you-fucking-kidding-me moment of the day. The screen was chewed through. Again. In less than an hour.
If I were a cartoon character, I’d be the one with the exploding head. That’s what it felt like when the realization hit me.
Happy hour would have to be delayed. We desperately went through another round of digging through the trailer looking for the intruder. Tearing apart the bedding and mattress, looking through cabinets, and so on. No chipmunk. Well, surely it left this time. We convinced ourselves that the new hole was its gateway to freedom and the saga was over.
The bedroom window was the scene of much drama.
In less than an hour, the bedroom screen was violated again.
Our chipmunk friend tried to help us with some remodeling. Gives the trailer that lived in look, don’t ya think?
We were wrong again
The next morning we awoke to the Adventure Dog being unusually animated. We assumed he just needed to go out for a relief session but his behavior was a bit off. My dear man took him out and came back to bed. Moments later we heard a commotion in the kitchen. Our stainless steel cocktail glasses make a distinct sound. We knew something was in the sink. We thought it was a mouse. (More on that in a bit.)
We jumped out of bed and saw the chipmunk scrambling towards the rear window of the trailer, looking for an exit. It had none and, startled by our arrival, dove beneath the bench. We hastily threw on some clothes and I raced out the door to the back of the trailer to open the toy hauler ramp.
We yanked up the rear screen to give it a clear exit, pulled off the bench cushions and lifted one bench. It ran under the other bench. We lifted that one. The frightened animal was cowering between my riding boots and my camera-gear backpack. We swished it out with the broom and it frantically ran to freedom.
It was not exactly a relaxing morning. We were so baffled how it kept getting in. In reality it never left. It’s just an expert at hide-and-seek.
At happy hour that evening, my dear man said “I think now I understand why some people don’t like camping.”
Our MacGyver-inspired repair.
Yet another MacGyver repair
The rodent exit ramp.
Are we living the dream yet?
Eight months on the road so far. You’d think we’d be settled in by now. We are decidedly not. I summarized some of our struggles a few months ago.
But guess what? It gets worse.
Because the prologue to the chipmunk drama is that we’ve been battling a mouse invasion for over a week now. That was the driving force behind the need to make the big trip to town to resupply compromised food and buy more mouse traps and other deterrents.
We’ve spent hours and hours every day cleaning up after them, reconfiguring our food storage, emptying traps (the body count is at nine so far), and figuring out how to defeat them. Our 200-square-foot home has been a battleground.
We know we need to get under the trailer and start sealing up entry points. Yet another big job to do and there are only so many hours in the day. And we’re worn out.
So no, definitely not living the dream yet. Send more whiskey, please. This was definitely not in the brochure.
We scored the best site in the campground. Gee, if only we could actually enjoy it instead of battling rodents.
Adventure on, friends! One way or another.
August 21, 2020
Spreading Our Wings Again at Washoe Lake
We are all living in surreal times in our own different ways. The meme I’ve seen that captures the sentiment best is “We are not all in the same boat but we are all in the same storm.”
And, of course, we entered the global storm while in the midst of our own personal one. We were decidedly behind the eight ball when the pandemic hit. Not starting from a place of strength made it all the harder to manage.
The weight of the world seemed to suddenly lift off our shoulders as soon as we got back to doing what we love.
Physical emergence
Now for better or worse, shutdowns are easing. Parks have reopened for the most part. So we trepidatiously left our Covid-19 safe house after eleven weeks, knowing the chaos isn’t over.
Our hosts are wonderful and we’re grateful for their generosity as we had to respond to rapidly changing events. It was time to move on and get back to what we set out to do, in spite of less than ideal conditions out in the world. But we’re in a better position now to manage our personal situation in the midst of the ongoing pandemic.
Ironically, we ended up back at Washoe Lake State Park as our first stop. That’s where we were when everything shut down. It was a deliberate choice to have a short trip—only 15 miles—to get back on our nomadic feet. We wanted to give ourselves the space to refresh our memories. The procedures and routines of life on the road in a trailer have languished while sitting still for nearly three months.
Tapas, Manhattans, and cigars overlooking Washoe Lake revived our spirits.
Finally back on the road just in time to celebrate six months as nomads and the first anniversary of Sierra Mountain Passes.
Mental emergence
The exhilaration of going back to doing what we love took a few days to manifest. We needed decompression time first. There was a sort of shock to being on the road again. The landscape at Washoe Lake certainly fits the bill to ease weary souls, though. Mountain views, sand dunes and wild horses grazing in the in the distance, abundant bird life—that put us back in the frame of mind to embrace exploring again.
We also quickly realized what we needed most was a motorcycle ride. In our houseless situation, the Adventure Dog can’t be left behind while we go riding together. Plus we had to retrieve the bikes from storage. But with a dog-sitter reservation and some vehicle swapping efforts in the storage unit we were able to regain some of our previous life. It was glorious.
The joy of a day out on the bikes together for the first time in four months was almost beyond comprehension.
The nesting killdeer pair relit a fire in me both as a photographer and as a naturalist.
Inspiration
Inspiration often comes from unlikely sources. Sometimes is makes sense to take on a challenge to regain your mojo. Sometimes you have to not fight it.
My attempts to revive my photography fire by force or challenge have not panned out over the last few months. It took a nesting killdeer pair at our Washoe campsite to excite me once more.
With increasing mental bandwidth each day, I suddenly found myself pulling out my camera and tripod to try to capture their antics and sweetness. Right in the middle of happy hour, no less! I was excited to be shooting again — genuinely thrilled and giddy. It felt tremendous.
I took delight in watching the birds tend to their eggs and do their fake injury stunt to lure people away who inadvertently (or willfully cluelessly) got too close. It became the talk of the day as we peered out at them through the trailer windows to check on them constantly.
We never did get to see the eggs hatch before we had maxed out the seven-day stay limit at the park. No matter. They gave me a gift they’ll never realize. That encounter and excitement led me to dip my toe back into time lapse photography for the first time in well over two years as we moved on to Wild Horse Reservoir State Recreation Area. Boy I’m rusty but happy to be refreshing those skills as well.
The view from camp at Wild Horse is nothing short of magical.
I felt like me again with the inspiration to spontaneously pick up the camera do a time lapse.
Time will tell
We’ll see how things play out for us on the road as the Coronavirus runs amok. But we’re in so much better shape to respond thoughtfully rather than react constantly. That’s a big difference this time around.
And to be sure, this year will certainly stand out in the history books for all of us as individuals and as a global community. And it’s only half over.
Adventure on, friends!
June 28, 2020
Cuba Hindsight
The seed was planted on New Year’s Day, 2018. We were hanging out at home with dear friends visiting from Georgia and chatting about places we’d like to go.
My dear man enthusiastically brought up Cuba. He’s wanted to go for over two decades. And he wanted to see it before American fast food stores occupy every corner.
Our pal, Leslie, being the amazing, spit-firey woman she is, said “Well, let’s go!”
And like that, we discussed tentative dates and the ball began rolling. So there I was, quite unexpectedly planning a trip to a country I never really thought about visiting before. I still marvel at my disinterest even having spent my childhood in South Florida, just 90 miles from the island nation.
I spent the first 18 years of my life spitting distance from Cuba. It wasn’t until over 30 years after leaving Florida, that I finally visited and got to experience the beauty of its landscape and people.
Rearview mirror
Traveling to Cuba is completely worth the effort. There are extra considerations for Americans that are seemingly intimidating, though. In reality, we found them to be trivial.
So in spite of never having Cuba on my travel radar before, it was a fantastic trip. My dear man was even more delighted than me and calls it our “scouting” trip for future adventures there. Now we’re much more savvy about what to expect and how to manage travel in Cuba.
We did a lot of research before going to be certain we understood how things work in Cuba. But there are many things we learned “in the field.” So in this first installment, let’s go over the biggest takeaways.
Learning how to “do” Cuba on our first trip. Or what my dear man calls our scouting trip. We’ll be much savvier next go-round.
Money
There are two currencies in Cuba. The Cuban Peso Nacional, or CUP, is used by Cuban locals. The other currency is the Cuban Convertible Peso, the CUC. That’s for tourists, like us. (Here’s a good breakdown of the very confusing system.)
For U.S. residents, credit and debit cards don’t work in Cuba so bring a lot of cash. Way more than you think you’ll need because once you’re there, you’ll have no more access to money.
Now that we have a better sense of how money works in Cuba—how to change money, exchange rates, and fees—our strategy next time will to be to exchange enough at the airport to get to our first night’s accomodation. From there we’ll visit a hotel to exchange more. Why?
Well, the lines at the airport exchange machines are daunting and require your passport. Our attempt to exchange bills at bank later on was also very challenging. Again long lines, passport required, and the bank’s unwillingness to exchange bills with even the slightest of flaws. Even though we took plenty of cash, we suddenly found ourselves with useless American dollars because we couldn’t exchange them. It was stressful.
It turns out though, that exchanging at hotels is a very different story. No passport, no line, and no fussiness about the condition of the bills. Whew! That was a close one.
If you like to eat at the local stalls rather than the touristy places, make sure you have small bills. They often can’t break the larger bills, especially early in the morning. And often, their prices are in CUP, not CUC so be sure to ask about the cost in CUC.
The bank would not exchange this “altered” American bill but the hotel didn’t blink an eye about it.
Connectivity
Cuba is slowly opening up in terms of internet availability but access is still limited. It’s certainly not ubiquitous and easily accessed like in the U.S. We arranged to have service with our cell phone carrier (Verizon) while there but it was extremely unreliable and, in the end, completely useless even for voice and text messaging.
That means you’ll need to be prepared in advance with information on places you want to go and how to get around. And make sure important people in your life are aware you may be off-grid while there.
Our travel pals, Jim and Leslie, eventually figured out how to get internet cards from local hotels. They are sold in one-hour increments and are limited in number. Just walking into a hotel to buy one doesn’t mean you’ll get one. And you’ll have to use it in places with wifi access. They can’t be utilized simply walking down the street. So you can get access but you have to work for it a little.
Recent news since our visit indicates that the Cuban government is allowing more places to have their own internet access so hopefully this will be less of an issue over time.
My awesome and beloved travel partners exploring Havana via a classic convertible.
Language
Knowing some Spanish is really helpful. I know that’s not a surprise. It’s always useful to know a little of the language of the country you’re visiting.
In Cuba, we found that our “casa particular” hosts spoke English well enough to make arrangements for us. But on the streets, having a moderate understanding of the language went a long way in getting us away from the unauthentic tourist-centered establishments. To get to know the real Cuba and her people, brush up on your Spanish and keep a translation app handy.
Also, the people we met seemed to appreciate our effort to speak the language and we had many good laughs over some of my silly Spanish goof-ups. It also allowed me to engage with the people there who didn’t know English and who we would otherwise not been able to chat with at all.
Having some of the local language in our tool kit let us talk with Cubans in a way we wouldn’t have been able to otherwise. The result? Beautiful connections.
Trust your hosts
The local hosts are great and can sort logistics for you easily. I had some concerns about not having arranged much of anything in advance but our hosts easily arranged tours for us upon our arrival. Granted, tours are not generally my thing. I skew more “indy” traveler. But in the case of Cuba, it’s a great way to support the local people as well as get a feel for places before exploring on our own.
View from the rear seat of a classic car tour and Leslie having a serious conversation with our knowledgable guide.
Transport
Getting around Havana is fairly straightforward. Taxis, buses, tour cars, and your own two feet cover all the bases.
However, transportation between cities was a particularly worrisome detail we didn’t set up in advance. Our Havana host happily arranged a ride with a group taxi to Viñales. The same was true for our return to Havana from Viñales. It was no sweat at all.
There are many options for getting around Havana including taxi, bus, and by foot.
Stay up to date
Cuba is rapidly changing as are the rules for U.S. citizens to travel there. Make sure you read the latest info before you go, particularly if you’re a U.S. citizen. ViaHero has a wonderful guide to visiting Cuba that they keep up to date.
Peace and beauty in Cuba.
Coffee
Like many Americans, I drink a lot of coffee. My travel companions for this adventure share my vice as well. But Cubans drink coffee differently — espresso style.
We were happy to embrace to local style to some extent. But in the end, we had to face the fact that we’re copious coffee drinkers and needed to seek out American-style java. Our hosts were gracious about providing extra coffee on the mornings we took breakfast in our casa particulars. But on the mornings we didn’t, it was a scramble.
The hotels are good about having Americano coffee but you have to accept navigating a sea of fellow tourists for the effort. For us, wanting to patronize more of the authentic side street food stalls, we had to make do with espresso style most of the time. And even in those stalls, the coffee isn’t necessarily prominent but it’s almost always there once you know how to look for it.
The kicker of all this coffee drama, is that in all of our other travels, we carry “emergency” coffee — instant Starbucks packets. No, it’s not the best but it’s something in cases when we stay at quirky mom-and-pop motels that don’t offer coffee. Or even in modern hotels that are stingy with it.
And for some reason, we didn’t bring any on this trip. I think we were trying to keep it simple. Next time, we’ll be sure to have some on hand.
The espressos were a nice way to blend in with locals at stands but we definitely needed our American coffee!
Ice
Unlike lodging in the U.S. where ice-makers are typically available, ice isn’t readily available in Cuba. Unfortunately, ice isn’t a luxury for me. I need it to manage my injuries and stay comfortable to travel.
Our casa particulars had freezers but no ice makers or ice trays. So next time, I’ll bring a silicon ice tray to make my own to manage my personal needs. A flexible ice tray doesn’t take up much space and is easily squishable into a suitcase. And for me, it means the difference between a good trip and one overshadowed by pain. That pain did catch up with me in a big way on this trip so I’ll be sure to manage that better next time.
Plus, it means having ice for our rum. So there’s really no downside to adding an ice tray to the packing process.
Fusterlandia is a feast of color and texture.
Fusterlandia
My pal Leslie found out about Fusterlandia, a quirky art installation in a neighborhood west of Havana. It’s an amazing thing to see a neighborhood transformed by tile mosaics.
You’ll need to take a bus or taxi to get there. We chose a taxi and along the way had lunch as well as an impromptu tour by our driver. The catch is that once there, we saw a bunch of visitors struggling to find a taxi back to the city and standing in the heat looking very uncomfortable and stressed.
Leslie had the good sense to have our driver wait for us. A visit to the Fusterlandia neighborhood really doesn’t take too long if you’re being casual about it. Make sure you discuss the cost with your driver so you aren’t surprised by it. But if you aren’t planning on staying too long, it’s a better bet than being stuck without a ride back.
If you do decide to spend a good bit of time there and the expense of the taxi waiting is too much for your budget, just make sure you have an exit strategy. Know how to find the bus or arrange for a return pick up time with the driver.
Remember, in Cuba, you can’t simply request an Uber or pull up the internet on your phone to find a solution.
If not for a helper in Vinales, we wouldn’t have found this little tobacco farm we really enjoyed.
Immersion
Cuba is a phenomenal place to engage with locals and pursue authenticity.
Talking to locals, you find out about places that aren’t obvious. That’s not to say you abandon situational awareness or good sense. You simply have to redefine it and not bring preconceived notions with you.
You will encounter people who try to take you to places off the beaten path. These “helpers” are hoping for a tip for their help. Some travelers would say never follow them. I say use your wits and gut instinct. Trust but don’t be foolish.
The challenge in Cuba is that there are great restaurants and tobacco farms that aren’t obvious and you would completely overlook. We followed some of the helpers and had a better experience for it. There were some that were more persistent than I cared for, however, so you have to be adamant about not needing their help. Just know it will happen and be smart about it.
The Cuban people are loving, proud, and enjoy helping visitors learn about their country. Embrace that and enjoy what travel can do to expand your mindset about the world.
Take to time to get off the main tourist streets and watch Cubans living their lives.
October 29, 2019
Magic in a 1928 Ford Tri-Motor Airplane
“Hey babe, what would you think of taking a flight in a 1928 airplane?” he says, only about a half a cup of coffee into our morning.
“Um, sure” I say groggily. Then my brain woke up. “Wait, say what now?!? That sounds like a death wish.” I reply. Picture the horrified look on my face for full effect. Of course, at that point I’ve only entertained the question in the most theoretical of senses. Then it occurred to me that it might not be.
Nope. It was not a theoretical question. “No, it’s a Ford Tri-Motor. I’ve always wanted to fly in one and they’re offering flights in Reno today.”
Embracing spontaneity
And thus began my day a few months ago as I found myself unexpectedly packing up some minimal camera gear and driving to Reno to fly in a 90-year-old airplane.
That was not the original plan for the day, as you’ve probably gathered. And you know I’ll keep it real. I was kind of scared. It sounded terrifying.
On top of the what-the-hell-am-I-getting-myself-into factor, I wasn’t completely sold this was the best way to spend my time that day. I’m simply not an airplane aficionado and I was quite buried in other pressing life and work tasks that needed my attention.
But I’m no stranger to embracing spontaneous opportunities. Keeping your bucket full is all about recognizing the things in life you probably shouldn’t pass up. I didn’t approach it for the curiosity at first, though. Being someone who is in ever-present work mode, I thought “Ok cool, my dear man is so stoked about this and it would be a really unique photo op. ”
Flying back in time
Little did I understand how cool it would be. Once I had some time to understand a bit more about the Ford Tri-Motor, I became intrigued. The historical importance completely roped me in. I had no idea!
The airplane is unique and gorgeous with its square shape and corrugated body panels. Its exterior controls are both amazing and entirely frightening. The old-school interior is a step back in time. The wooden paneling, the gloriously retro light sconces, the decorative curtains, the huge windows that allowed you to take in the whole view—I adored the details and textures.
The flight itself was amazing. I’ve seen Reno from the air countless times as I’ve flown in and out on commercial flights. But this—a low-altitude loop looking through the blades of the wing-mounted motors, was entrancing. It was a totally visceral experience unlike commercial flights. It’s much like the difference between the joy of riding and the monotony of driving in the bubble of a car.
Holding on to the magic
Serendipity struck just a few days after my Tri-Motor experience when I read a great bit by my Tremont photography pal Steve Zigler about holding on to the magic of travel after you return. I realized that this is one of the ways you do it. You bring the spirit of travel home with you and apply it to your daily life. You give yourself the chance to see your hometown in a new way.
I had no intention of extolling the virtues of the 1928 Ford Tri-Motor airplane on the blog. Yet some experiences just stick with you. So here, almost three months later, I’m still in love with taking the leap that day.
I thought this odd little day in my life was worth sharing. The larger message of keeping the travel magic alive in your daily life is important, of course. But also to be deliberate with how we spend our time. Even with a spontaneous decision, it was deliberate. Although it took a much greater infusion of coffee to figure that out!
One of the decision points that morning was also acknowledging the value of a unique shared experience with someone very important to me. Even though it’s not something I would have sought out for myself and he would have had a good time on his own, sharing it together elevated it for both of us. The same as our travels together do. It allowed us a double-dip on keeping the magic alive at home at a time when we were working almost non-stop.
Flying over Reno in the 1928 Ford Tri-Motor.
And finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t encourage you have a take in this particular experience. It was so unique and thrilling. The plane is on tour in the U.S. if you’d like to catch a ride. It’s well worth it!
Adventure on, friends!
[UPDATE: I originally called this a 1929 but it turns out this is a 1928 so the post has been updated to correct my mistake. Please excuse my aviation ignorance!]

July 26, 2019
Introducing Sierra Mountain Passes
It’s live, y’all! After ten long months of prep work, I’m happy to introduce you to our new labor-of-love—Sierra Mountain Passes!
I’ve been teasing my newsletter subscribers for a couple of months now and it’s finally a reality. As you can imagine, there are a lot of behind-the-scenes details that go into getting a project like this off the ground. So yes, a mini celebration was in order on launch day!
Launch day celebration.
What is it?
Well, it’s all about travel in the Sierra Nevada mountain range! There are 22 Sierra passes, covering 400 miles of rugged mountains. Travel there can be glorious. It can also be challenging if you don’t understand the mountains.
So we’ve set the site up to be a comprehensive center of information about traveling in the Sierra. Our aim is to arm travelers with knowledge to have the best trip possible. That means finding the best places to go as well as how to avoid the pitfalls of travel in such a dynamic place.
Right now, there’s a slight motorcycling focus. No surprise, right? That’s what we do best! The basic information applies to all travelers, though. And we’ll be broadening the scope to more completely cover other types as we move forward. Auto, RV, and bicycle travel are all on the menu. That will take some time, of course.
- That’s me riding Monitor Pass.
- Sonora Pass
- Carson Pass
- Monitor Pass
- Donner Pass Road and Donner Lake
- Tioga Pass
Join in
Follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter to keep up as we expand. I have no doubt you’ll be inspired to visit! I’m sure you’ll quite understand why I moved here once you do.
If you have questions that aren’t answered yet, give us a shout. It’s very likely someone else has that question too. And we’ll get the answer for you.
In the meantime, if you’re already in love with the Sierra like we are, check out our store. We have stickers from our favorite passes available with more designs and products to come as we grow. Stay tuned!
The beginnings of the Sierra Mountain Passes store.
Adventure on, friends. I’ll see you on the passes.
June 24, 2019
Contrasts of Cuba
Travel is often about contrasts. We take notice of details when we step out of our too-familiar everyday scenery. They flood our senses as we absorb the sights, smells, and sounds of our destinations. The excitement of life and discovery light up our brains.
The contrasts of Cuba were gloriously stark. Not only to the place I call home but within itself. It felt impossible to absorb. And yet it all fits together seamlessly—the old and new, countryside and city, tourists and locals. It’s an extraordinary place, steeped in history.
Capturing Cuba
The urban architecture in Cuba is often detailed and intricate. It’s also known for its colorful facades that beg you to drink in the bright hues and vibrance. And the tropical forests embrace you in the deep, lush colors of nature—almost impossibly rich and surreal.
So in spite of intending to be off-duty for my recent visit to the island, I still felt compelled to take pictures. The colors can saturate you, though. So I embraced my infrared camera to dive into the details, textures, and contrasts that were sometimes lost in the vibrance. Shooting in black and white reveals structure and removes flamboyant distractions.
Havana
Havana is a bustling city, of course. But the energy is different from the urban environments I’m accustomed to in the U.S. There’s an underlying flow and rhythm to the constant movement.
Our second-floor apartment overlooked El Capitolo. From our balcony perch, we watched Cubans go about their everyday lives. Within the purposeful comings and goings, there was never too much of a rush for hugs and warm greetings amongst friends and families. Everyone seemed to know each other. It was delightful to witness.
Viñales
Tobacco country feels like another world from Havana, yet in reality less than 200 km from the big city on the small island nation. Viñales is a quiet haven, but still crawling with tourists. Once you step away from the main streets lined with tourist restaurants and busses, it’s easy to find the easier pace of the locals.
It seems almost every home in Viñales is also a casa particular. Ours was on the outskirts. And there we were treated to being a part of the daily life of Cubans. One that consists of work, school, and home while folding visitors into the mix with love and generosity.
Best of both worlds
Although these two cities are starkly different in the physical sense, there’s no difference in how the Cuban people treat each other. Hugs, robust handshakes, and genuine enthusiasm are the norm. Even as a visitor, that love is evident.
I have to admit that growing up in South Florida, with a large Cuban population, visiting Cuba was never high on my travel radar. Now though, I see that as a tremendous oversight.
Cuba is beautiful. The Cuban people are beautiful. I look forward to embracing adventure there again soon.
As always, prints and products of Cuba (and more!) are available in my RedBubble and Society6 online stores.
June 14, 2019
Hemingway Was Never Here
Cuba is a remarkable place. So much of what I read before I visited had me prepared to return to a different era. But it’s a country in transition. And it’s transitioning quickly. The living history experience desired by visitors is not really the main story anymore.
It exists, yes. Classic car tours and horse-drawn carts are prominent. The step-back-in-time I anticipated wasn’t as dramatic as visitors in years past must have had, though. Modern cars, cell phones, and electric scooters were the norm as we explored Havana and Viñales this year.
Cuban coffee with friends
Tourist or traveler?
You know the oft-used quote —
The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see.
G. K. Chesterton
What’s difficult about Cuba is that some of the best ways to learn and see the country are the “tourist” things to do. Turns out a classic car ride through Havana is a great was to get oriented to the city. And a horseback ride into a national park? That’s a chance to see the countryside in a unique way.
We were fortunate that our casa particular hosts understood we weren’t typical tourists. They understood we weren’t simply interested in checking off the standard experiences. So they set us up with local guides who were willing to help us understand Cuba, not just see it. We were able to have real conversations with Cuban people. There were no canned tour scripts, just people proud of their country and curious about ours.
Genuine conversation on our classic car tour.
Best in Cuba
One of the reccuring themes we encountered is the “best in Cuba” proclamations. Mojitos, cigars, Ropa Vieja—you name it, every place claims they have the best something-or-other in Cuba. We asked one of our cigar plantation guides about that. Was it just a big joke?
He laughed. “Why wouldn’t you say yours is the best?” was his response. Touche’.
At another tiny cigar farm though, our guide said “You probably noticed that everyone says their cigars are the best.”
Yes, we replied, laughing.
“Well, mine are probably not the best,” he humbly responded. We laughed again. And bought his honestly-marketed cigars. They were, in fact, quite lovely. And certainly better than the factory examples we’d had the day before.
Our humble tobacco farmer—possibly the only one to ever say his cigars aren’t the best.
Searching for authenticity
The conversations with our guides and local hosts were delightfully genuine. Restaurants were some of the toughest places to get past the tourist scene and prices, though. We had some success in getting off the main streets to find real Cuban food in small food stalls. But it was often a challenge to find good dinner without internet access to help us sift out the real deal as well as navigate the busy, complex streets.
I’m a fan of asking locals for information. Unfortunately in Cuba, many of the locals will point you towards the “tourist” stuff because they think that’s what you want. Especially when it comes to Ernest Hemingway. Their preconceived notion about Americans is that we want to see the places he loved. All Hemingway, all the time. I suppose if I was a Hemingway-ophile I might have embraced it but I’m not. Which brings us to El Chanchullero.
Jovial converstation at El Chanchullero
El Chanchullero
On our last night, thanks to a trickle of internet service, we scored our biggest food success. It was at El Chanchullero, a small authentic restaurant with orgasmic Cuban food.
We wandered into the busy two-story restaurant hesitantly. We were expecting a long line knowing this was a popular restaurant but the lack of one left us uncertain. The place was indeed packed but without wait there were two empty stools at the bar overlooking the kitchen. We wiggled our way back through the tightly spaced tables and asked if we could sit there.
The menu was simple but rich. On it, a mini-manifesto I could only partially translate with my middling Spanish. I got the sense, though. They are unconventional. El Chanchullero celebrates people and conversation with those who are different from yourself. They reject Hemingway as the tourist draw to Cuba. Their motto is “Hemingway was never here.”
Sitting at the bar is our vibe in most places anyway but this was an extraordinary treat. We watched the chefs cook furiously in the small space. Our server suggested dishes and cocktails. We ate and drank and talked with the staff, all charmed by my dear man. Through broken Spanish and English, laughter abounded. When the manager and server ended up buying us shots, we knew we’d made a true connection.
Hemingway was never here.
Authenticity and success
But here’s the catch about El Chanchullero. This little independent-spirited restaurant prides itself on being the antithesis of the Hemingway-in-Cuba experience. Yet after being featured on a major travel site, it’s now so popular that you’ll wait in line if you don’t arrive early as we did.
They remain true to themselves so far it seems. Can they maintain their mission for authenticity while still being successful and popular? I hope so.
Cuba is a tough nut to crack if you only have a short time to visit. I know the next time I go, I’ll be able to dive deeper into a non-tourist experience. We found authenticity in unexpected places. I feel like we paid our “tourist” dues to get to that point, though. Next time, dear Cuba, we won’t play that game. We know how to seek out the places Hemingway never saw.
The line outside El Chanchullero
Connecting over laughs, drinks, and food.

April 11, 2019
Stop the Bleed
A couple of months ago, my dear man and I attended a Stop the Bleed training class. Sounds intimidating, doesn’t it?
It isn’t. And that’s exactly the point of the course we took at REMSA (Regional Emergency Medical Services Authority) here in northern Nevada. The goal is to put life-saving knowledge into our hands because
…anyone at the scene can act as immediate responder and save lives if they know what to do.
—bleedingcontrol.org
Why you need it
When bad things happen, it’s always our fellow citizens—the people right next to us at that very moment—who are on the scene first. When severe bleeding is the issue, it’s a life and death situation that plays out in less than 10 minutes. Depending on the severity of the wound that might be as short as five minutes.
Response times for emergency professionals are often far longer than five minutes. Due to the nature of our systems, staffing levels, and the number of patients at a scene, help is often too late in a severe bleeding scenario. So having us non-professionals out there armed with basic knowledge and a few simple tools means we can keep someone alive until EMTs arrive. That person could be a complete stranger to you. It could also be your own loved one.
Bleeding control
The Stop the Bleed class only lasts a few hours and spans the range of how to deal with life-threatening bleeding depending on the injured part of the body. The curriculum covers using tourniquets, dressings, and hand pressure to control catastrophic blood loss. Instructors also offer insight into getting consent from the patient as well as how to talk to them in that high-stress situation.
The concepts and procedures in the class are designed to be simple. Again, the goal is to give you the basic skills to be the immediate responder until more help arrives. That simplicity means we aren’t mentally paralyzed by complicated decisions when we are faced with an emergency.
Stop the Bleed instructor and tools.
Hands on
You can certainly read up about the procedures online but that isn’t actually training. The hands-on practice in class is the most valuable experience. Working with professionals who walk you through the process and show you what’s necessary to save someone from bleeding to death can’t be duplicated in a virtual setting. Using a tourniquet to effectively stop serious bleeding require a tremendous amount of pressure. You’ll probably underestimate how much until you experience how that feels when someone demonstrates it on you and when you try it on another person.
The bottom line is that for the small class fee, you get hands-on training, a tourniquet kit, and the resources to save lives. In my world, that’s a no-brainer.
Updated knowledge
I’m from an era in which tourniquets were seen as an absolute last resort. The general consensus used to be that applying a tourniquet meant you were deciding that person would lose a limb. We now know that a tourniquet can be left on for many hours and not cause permanent damage from lack of blood supply.
That’s a game-changer in our ability to help. While the class does provide guidelines about when to apply tourniquets, the additional comfort in knowing you’re not causing more harm than good means you don’t have to hesitate to help someone who really needs help.
Call to action
This training is appropriate for anyone. Many of the people in our class were taking it in some sort of professional capacity. But many were like us, people who want to protect ourselves and are willing to help others.
The EMTs want us to know what to do, as well. They recognize we’re all in this together and that they can’t be right by your side the instant something happens.
Please don’t wait to get this training until something bad happens that you could have prevented. You will never forgive yourself if some simple training could have saved your loved one.
You can find a class here on the BleedingControl.org website.
For a little more insight into the class, here’s a video made during the class by KUNR featuring yours truly and my dear man. (Click on the link for the full article accompanying the video.)

March 27, 2019
Surrender to Adventure
The cab driver waved up at us from the busy Havana sidewalk and called out “¿Viñales?”
From our perch on the balcony of our casa particular overlooking La Fuente de India and El Capitolio, we called back “¡Si!”
He urged us to hurry down so we grabbed our bags and hastily descended the narrow, convoluted staircase to the ground floor. We jogged behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace as we toted our luggage to the car.
He grabbed our bags and began strapping them on the car roof as we gave quick goodbye hugs to our travel companions; they wouldn’t be joining us for this leg of the trip.
The view of La Fuente de India from the balcony of our casa particular in Havana.
To Viñales
He motioned us towards the front seat of our taxi, a 1954 Ford Country Sedan station wagon. I slid into the center and my dear man took the passenger side. We said a quick hello to the two Finnish passengers in the back seat. Then the driver was off, navigating the cluttered, narrow streets of Havana in the huge station wagon. He deftly skirted the bicyclists, pedestrians, motorcycles, potholes, trucks, and everything else imaginable that are typical in the city.
We made two more stops to pick up passengers before exiting the urban bustle. Eventually nine of us, including the driver, were pressed bum-to-bum for the 2-1/2 hour drive into the Cuban countryside. It didn’t take long to accept we’d be nestled together for the duration, our legs sweating against complete strangers.
Setting aside our American sensibilities about personal space and auto safety, we embraced the journey. No seatbelts in this old car. And slaloming at high speeds along the highway around everything from tour busses and farm tractors to oxcarts and bicycles is perfectly normal.
Before we left that morning we knew we’d be in a group taxi. We just didn’t know exactly what that meant. Our Cuban host had arranged it for us. All we knew is that we’d get to Viñales.
So we bombed along in the vintage car, our heads waggling like bobble-head dolls as we bounced our way towards tobacco country.
Our 1954 Ford Country Sedan station wagon group taxi.
Back in the saddle
We wanted to visit a tobacco plantation while in Viñales. And we thought maybe we’d like to take a horseback ride through the nearby national park at some point as well. Through my middling Spanish, we put together that our gracious host would arrange it for us. We would leave at nine o’clock the next morning.
The horse-drawn cab arrived promptly and we climbed aboard. We took our spots on the wooden bench and quickly learned that keeping our bodies loose and relaxed to absorb the jolts and bumps was the way to go.
The cart stopped in front of a house and a sturdy, older cowboy walked out leading three horses. My dear man and I looked at each other in surprise. We didn’t realize we’d be riding horses today. I was suddenly very glad I wore pants and boots that day instead of shorts and sandals!
My camera gear required adjustment, though. I haven’t been on a horse in more than 20 years but I knew my dual-camera system wasn’t going to hack it in the saddle. I quickly rearranged my camera body and lens setup for this unexpected adventure.
- Riding in a horse-drawn cab in Viñales.
- Riding into the Parque de Viñales.
- Horse cab ride in Viñales.
All-in-one adventure
Our guide introduced us to our mounts—Tornado and Inferno. We laughed at the joke. Trail horses aren’t prone to such dynamic tendencies but we could tell our guide’s sense of humor would make for a fun day.
And we set off, having no idea where we were going or how long the trip would be. All we knew is that we’ll be exploring the Parque de Viñales.
“¡Cabaaaalloooooo!” our guide called out melodically throughout the ride. I can still hear his voice urging the horses on when they slowed their pace.
It turns out our hosts set us up for a full experience that day. The horseback ride included stops at various coffee and tobacco plantations as well as little open-air cafes with spectacular views. We strolled through farmland and quiet riverbeds.
Our charming guide was patient with my broken Spanish as he explained some of what we were seeing. We talked about life, families, and the differences between Cuba and our home in Nevada. He wanted to know as much about our world as we wanted to know about his.
Our last stop of the day was at an organic tobacco farm in the park. With our cigars unfinished when it was time to leave the plantation, we mounted our horses and continued on our way—smoking cigars on horseback in the Valle de Viñales of Cuba, talking with our new friend as we rode back towards town.
- Riding in the Parque de Viñales.
- The view over the valley.
- Farmer tending tobacco plants.
- Vulture soaring over the valley below.
- Our guide and his buddies.
- Riders in the Valle de Silencio.
- Lush forests of Parque de Viñales.
- Farm bull hanging out.
- Bundle of cigars at tobacco farm.
Breaking Routine
At a tiny little cafe on a side street in Viñales, we sat with our Cuban coffees, watching people go by. The tourists had yet to fill the streets so we watched as the locals began their days. Just Cuban people living their lives
— walking to school and work, pushing wheelbarrows, hauling loads in ox-drawn carts. We sat peacefully, enjoying the sounds and sights of a place entirely new to us.
Quite poetically, our cafe was named “Rompiendo Rutina,” Breaking Routine.
Breaking routine in Viñales with Cuban coffee and a morning cigar.
Cuba proved to be a very different style of travel for us. Even as open as we are to new experiences and adventures, we are typically far more in control of when, where, and how we go about our travel. We make our own arrangements, choices, and schedules.
In Cuba, we had to embrace simply being a part of the rhythm of how things are done there. That meant trusting our hosts, complete strangers, to take care of us. By embracing the uncertainties instead of resisting them, we ended up with one of the most extraordinary travel experiences we’ve ever had.
Sometimes making that leap means accepting some discomfort, inconvenience, or unknown outcomes. But rich travel isn’t about everything being luxurious, perfect, and predictable. I suppose that’s the difference between a vacation and an adventure.
And travel in Cuba is as rich as it gets if you’re willing to surrender to adventure.
Adventure on, friends!
As always, prints and products of Cuba (and more!) are available in my Zenfolio and Society6 online stores.
March 12, 2019
Vignettes of Cuba
How does a travel blogger take a vacation? Apparently we don’t!
Earlier this month I took a weeklong trip to Cuba for the first time. I went into that adventure looking to be largely off-duty. I wanted to celebrate my dear man’s birthday and his long-desired wish to visit Cuba without the pressure of needing to produce content. But as you can imagine, the concept of relaxing and taking a true vacation with family and friends is a tall order for a travel blogger.
So I deliberately went to Cuba with no agenda of coming back with tons of images, thoughts, and stories. My goal was to take shots when it felt right yet have enough images to enjoy looking back down the road. As a result, I took pictures here and there but I wasn’t behind the lens the entire time. I took a step back to absorb the details of everything around me. It was really quite lovely.
The quintessential Havana scene
Regrets?
With that approach though, I certainly missed a lot of things I wish I had shots of. But the hard truth is that I always feel that way, even when I work hard at trying to capture the images that fill out the story. So really I’m not any more disappointed in my collection of images than usual!
The glaring exception being that I wish I had more people shots. Again, that’s not a new struggle for me but given the great people I was traveling with and those I met along the way, it stings a little more than normal. Because so much of what is amazing about Cuba is the people.
Tobacco leaves drying in a barn in Viñales.
Can’t teach an old blogger new tricks
Yet in the end it seems you can’t entirely take the blogger out of the equation. With my casual approach, I figured I might have some photo essay-style content to share with you. Possibly even some insight into traveling in Cuba. But here I am, head spinning with stories. Not an epic Cuba travel guide, mind you. I’m no expert after only one visit. What I do hope to share is the beauty of the people, the places, and the experiences of a wonderful country.
So stay tuned for a handful of vignettes about Cuba. In the meantime, here are links to the images on my Facebook page and my Cuba travel collections in my online stores at Zenfolio and Society6.
¡Hasta luego, amigos!
Old building in Havana in infrared

February 26, 2019
Skills Entropy
I pulled into the campsite completely stoked. We’d scored a fabulous site on a busy holiday weekend. It was my first camping trip with George in years. In fact, it was our first-ever camping trip with just the two of us. It was also my first car-camping trip since moving to Nevada. My camping systems were in complete disarray from the move but I trusted my years of experience to carry me through. After several days of urban exploring in Portland on the first leg of this trip, I was beyond ready for some outdoor therapy.
So I hopped out of the car and chucked the monster-sized family camping tent out onto the ground. I began throwing it together from pure muscle memory. It was just like riding a bike. I was ecstatic to be camping with George again.
He was busy unloading the rest of the gear when he heard my string of f-bombs. He didn’t bat an eyelash. That’s just a normal day with mom. Until I started adding in some further embellishments. He gave me his quizzical look.
“I forgot the fucking tent stakes.”
Turns out it was not the only thing I forgot, just potentially the most crucial. Yep. My “years of experience” had failed me.
Imagine my f-bombs ringing across Diamond Lake when I realized I forgot to bring the tent stakes.
Skill cycles
Use it or lose it, y’all. It’s that simple.
Whatever the pursuit, all the skills we build throughout life are perishable. We all know it but in the chaos of life we sometimes lose sight of that, right? To complicate matters, the technical skills needed to succeed in our endeavors bleed over into the mental aspects of our comfort zones. They are symbiotic.
So on the plus side, the more we maintain and build our skills, the better we become, and our confidence soars. Our comfort zones blossom with the mastery of those skills. That leads us on the path to do, learn, and achieve more. It’s the cycle of success that makes you feel like a magical fucking unicorn.
At one time, I totally knew my outdoor shit. So much so, it was my path to recovery after a near-fatal crash.
The flip side
The things I love to do require some expertise to do well: motorcycling, hiking, camping, photography. And in most of them, there can be very unfortunate consequences if I don’t do them well. If my skills deteriorate, my risk factors increase.
And damn it if those skills don’t disappear like a whistle in the wind when you put them on the shelf. Often without you realizing it.
As 2018 winds down, I find myself more and more philosophical about how much my travel life has changed over the last few years. Change doesn’t bother me. I learned long ago to embrace its benefits. Most of the time it isn’t better or worse, just different. In my case, wonderful travels have morphed into different wonderful travels. No harm no foul, right?
Yes and no. Mostly yes. Certainly I’ve built savviness in other areas of my adventurous life. That’s good. The difficulty is losing grip on things I still love to do but haven’t been doing. Even if I don’t do them as often, I still want to do them. Tragically, by not doing them enough or at all, I’ve created a negative feedback loop. The flabby, sinister step-monster of the gorgeously muscled unicorn of success.
Utterly inadequate sun protection and water supply for a day on Lake Tahoe was just one of my “winning” moments this year.
Facing failures
As a life philosophy, I’m not a collector of hobbies. Not that I haven’t had many come and go over the years but, at any given time, I prefer to be better at a few things than a novice at many. So to maintain my tenacity and focus I tend to keep my suite of current pursuits trimmed down. Motorcycling, photography, travel, outdoor adventures, those are my core endeavors. Yet even though I work to make them my lifestyle, something beyond hobbies, I still struggle. My dabblings in some of these efforts of late haven’t been enough to keep my skills and processes well-honed.
I’ve talked about my failings in photography and my languishing solo travel skills recently but really the main victim of my life changes has been my outdoor skills. My attempts to get outside to camp and hike this year have been absurd. Mistakes and lack of preparedness worthy of a total noob have marred my efforts. That’s how good trips go bad. And it’s all completely avoidable.
We’re talking utterly stupid things like the tent stake incident, neglecting to pack adequate water and sun protection and getting us roasted and dehydrated on Lake Tahoe, and making sure my stove is working properly so I can brew the elixir of life at camp in the morning. And now I’m almost a year late for my Wilderness First Aid recertification. Getting back out there has become daunting. My mistakes and deferred skills maintenance have allowed the ugly monster of self-doubt to saddle up on my unicorn.
Even though I began the process of reclaiming my outdoor mojo earlier this year, I still have a long way to go.
Now what?
It’s time to get my shit together. I’m mad enough at myself to fix this, and it is fixable. I’ll kick the ugly monster of entropy off and be a fucking badass outdoor adventure unicorn running free again in the coming year. It’s a matter of deciding how much of the adventure pie I want each area to consume and putting plans in place to make it happen.
And in case you’re wondering about the tent stake snafu, I got lucky. It ended up being a small goof. There was no wind and it’s a free-standing tent design so we were able to camp without much MacGuyvering. It was dumb luck, but luck no less. But that’s not something to rely on in life, especially one lived adventurously.
Adventure on, friends!
Dumb luck saved us this time.
October 2, 2018
For the Love of Taco Trucks
We had angered the taco gods. Now they were withholding their beneficence. We believed that the last taco truck we had passed would be the last taco truck that we would see.
We were dehydrated and it was affecting our ability to make decisions. The afternoon heat was more than we had expected for the day’s ride. Especially after nearly perfect riding weather as we crossed the Sierra that morning. But the conditions deteriorated as we descended from Carson Pass, across the Sacramento River Delta, and into the foothills north of San Francisco Bay.
And now the insidious creep of dehydration had caught up to us. It’s an asshole. It inches in, little by little, chipping away at your fine-motor skills and decision-making ability. Until you don’t even realize you’re not making sense.
You pass a taco truck parked on the side of the road. You tell yourself it came up quickly, that there wasn’t time to make the turn safely.
Then you pass another. Wait… what?!? How did we miss that one?
And yet another. And another. What’s going on? Why do we keep missing taco trucks, block after block? We need a break. And tacos will fix all that ails us.
We’ll stop at the next one, we say. We’re both alert to the failure now. We confess our errors to the taco gods. We’ll do better. Our humility is renewed. We will no longer take taco trucks for granted.
But it was too late. After giving us ample opportunity to worship at the taco altar, there was nothing. Not another taco truck parked along the road, in spite of our renewed attentiveness.
Panic began to set in. Had we missed all of them? Ok, let’s stop for fuel and to regroup. We’ll search out a taco truck with the power contained in our smartphones. We may have to backtrack in the heat and traffic but we’re willing to pay that price for our folly.
We finally find a gas station on our side of the road offering easy access to and from the congested suburban streets of Lodi.
And parked at the side of the station? A food truck. Not a taco truck exactly. But a marisco tostada truck. That’ll do.
Two luscious, cool, spicy shrimp ceviche tostadas set all right in our world again. And the taco gods, while showing mercy, made their power known. The refreshing tostadas were delicious but we’d have to do better on our ongoing taco safari if we wanted a true taco truck.
The taco gods demand penance. We must reprove our piety. Because a life without taco trucks is no life at all.
All hail the taco gods for delivering us mercy in our time of need.

September 21, 2018
A Visit to Georgia
Ah, Georgia, my former home state. Last month I flew back to send Fred off to college and attend Dragon Con with George. This was my first visit purely as a tourist since finally selling my loft in Roswell earlier this year.
It’s a strange feeling to visit somewhere I called home for so long. There’s a freedom, though. I know enough about the places and people to slip in without the uncertainties of traveling to an unfamiliar place.
Playing tourist in Fred’s new college town, Lagrange.
Off to college
As is typical for my time in Georgia, I hit the ground running. The first few days were a gauntlet of jeg-lagged chasing about. Shuttling Fred and George to various appointments and having quick meals with friends that felt like speed dating. Without a moment to spare, I grabbed George and set off to Lagrange to help get Fred set up at school and check out his new stomping grounds .
It may sound like I was on track to match the FrankenTravel experience of this past spring but I was actually quite successful in ramping the chaos down once Fred was ensconced at school. Call it a travel lesson well-learned. My solution to several days of hectic activity? Retreating with George to a secluded cabin getaway.
- Fred listens attentively to George’s advice about college.
- George tidying up the flags in downtown Lagrange.
- A silly farewell to my college kid.
Catching our breath at Chattahoochee Bend
Over the course of the twenty-plus years I lived in Georgia, I spent a lot of time in the state parks. I mean a LOT. Camping, hiking, and geocaching. In cabins, yurts, and tents. We’ve done just about everything, in every park and historic site the state has to offer. So when the plans for this visit began to take form, my first resource was my beloved Georgia State Parks.
Not far from Fred’s college is the nearly 3,000-acre Chattahoochee Bend State Park. The park recently added a few cabins to the amenities and I was all over it as the solution to outdoor fun before the urban adventure of Dragon Con. The brand-spankin’-new cabins are simply marvelous. Our little home-away-from-home was perfect for decompressing and as a base for some light outdoor adventuring.
- Catching up in the peace and quiet of Chattahoochee Bend.
- Enlisting George’s help with dinner in our cozy cabin.
- Our slick loaner for the trip, a convertible Mini Cooper.
- Our little home away from home.
- Our cabin at Chattahoochee Bend.
- The sanctuary of the back porch.
- Cozy little cabin.
Paddling the Hooch
One of the draws of a visit to Chattahoochee Bend over other nearby parks is the paddling opportunities, including kayak rentals. I enlisted the help of one of my Georgia besties and her daughter to help shuttle boats between the put in and take out and paddle with us for pure entertainment value. It’s never a boring day with Amy and Piper on board for the adventure.
Paddling the Chattahoochee River is fairly easy going. There are a couple of “rapids” to break up the stretches of smooth, turbid water but it’s largely peaceful. The temperate forest hugs the banks in its lush green arms. Countless turtles bask in the sun on the exposed bits of submerged logs. Birds swoop and hunt overhead.
Sadly, George was not impressed. Compared to paddling the crystal clear blue waters of Lake Tahoe surrounded by jaw-dropping mountain views, and having lived his entire 15 years in Georgia, the subtle beauty of the Chattahoochee River doesn’t light his outdoor fire. He enjoyed the trip, but isn’t exactly excited about a repeat adventure on the Hooch.
- Braving the Chattahoochee River rapids.
- A friendly race with Piper.
- Georgia is really muddy, in case you didn’t know.
- Let the paddling begin!
Geocaching
George doesn’t do much geocaching these days but he’s happy to come along and help me. My visit to Chattahoochee Bend was over five years ago and quite a few caches have been added to the park since then. Nabbing some seemed a good reason to get us out of our ever-so-comfortable cabin and stomping about in the woods.
Here’s where the feeling-like-a-tourist part really sets in, though. For crying out loud, y’all, I lived in Georgia for a long time but I am decidedly NOT acclimated to the southeast anymore. First, I forgot how many ticks and spiders there are. I picked up quite a few invertebrate companions in our short time in the woods. For about a week after, I had the ongoing twitchiness of feeling like bugs were crawling on me constantly.
And the humidity? It’s crushing. Apparently you can actually take the southern out of someone because I have can no longer tolerate it.
- George on the hunt for geocaches.
- Georgia’s lush forests support gorgeous fungi and lots and lots of insects.
- The cool tower along the river in the park.
- Vandalism in the park is always disheartening.
Off to Dragon Con
Our brief respite at Chattahoochee Bend was the vaccine to manage the coming challenges of Dragon Con. Jumping suddenly from a peaceful park to urban sci-fi/fantasy chaos is like teleporting to another planet . I’m seasoned in travel whiplash so I dance from one to the other reasonably well.
Sunrise in downtown Atlanta before Dragon Con.
For all of the fun, time with great people, and oddities of trips like this one, flying home always puts everything right again.
The view on the way home.
Adventure on, friends! In every way imaginable.
September 18, 2018
April Escape: A Tale of Revival
At the outset of this April Escape series, I mentioned that this trip ended up being about more than traveling for travel’s sake. It presented an opportunity to shake up various travel ruts I’ve unexpectedly found myself in. My cache of travel skills and tools had shrunk in spite of all of the places I’ve been over the past few years. I was traveling on autopilot. Turning routine on its head is a powerful way to see your world through new eyes and I desperately needed it.
Being back on the road solo was exactly what I needed to bust out of my travel rut.
Traveling solo
One of the changes that has snuck up on me over the last few years is the shift from mostly solo travel to mostly couple adventures. There’s not a problem with that necessarily but it is a very different way of traveling and requires different skills. It also means the layers of travel experience are different. Both have value in their own ways, of course. To be a well-rounded traveler and to have a broad travel experience, both are necessary. Putting a little solo travel in this trip was really the most important piece of my travel revival puzzle.
Solo travel requires unique skills and decisions. You have only yourself to count on. Self reliance is an often-overlooked skill, especially in a risk-averse society. Solo travel builds empowerment and capability you simply can’t get any other way. You have to answer only to yourself. You also have to solve problems on your own—without the safety net of home, friends, or family nearby. And for better or worse, your choices are completely yours. That’s fabulous freedom everyone needs from time to time.
I love my travels with my dear man. We’re really good at it and we have a fabulous time together. But realizing how much my solo travel skills had atrophied was startling. I wasn’t fearful setting out but I did have to hesitate and ask myself if I still knew how to do it well on my own. Along with my solo travel savvy, my comfort zone had shriveled without me noticing.
Possibly my best night of camping ever as I reclaimed my travel groove.
Moto camping
There was a time I camped constantly. By car or motorcycle, I took every opportunity to go somewhere and sleep in a tent . Over the course of the last few years, as my life shifted from Georgia to Nevada, my camping trips somehow evaporated. Right out from under me without me even noticing.
Once I saw what had happened dusting off my camping skills became a non-negotiable piece of the trip. My dear man was suffering from the same camping skills atrophy. It didn’t even sound fun to him anymore. But he embraced my desire to camp on this trip, partly out of trusting my judgment and partly for knowing how important it was to me.
Getting our gear together was another story. In my transition to Nevada, my well-refined camping gear management system had also evaporated. The situation now is pure chaos and an exercise in frustration. Of course, you have to be home for more than a hot minute to take on a big organizational project so that will be a challenge to fix.
On the road, I was able to camp solo and with a partner. Both were crucial to see what we need to refine in our moto camping systems. And there will be more camping. The camping nights on this trip were fantastic. I felt completely and utterly me again. And that is a very good feeling.
Traveling with my dear man is quirky and fun and well worth the mental gymnastics it takes to meet up on the road.
Meeting up
Our first time trying to meet up mid-trip showed me how important that skill can be. It gives us more options in our travel plans rather than ditching or shortening a trip because we can’t both be gone at the same time. But it takes orchestration when your plans are not tied to exact times and places. Add in that your ability to get to a particular place is tied to the whims of weather and it’s a complex travel puzzle. Motorcycle travel and strict timelines simply do not mix well so it requires flexing our adaptability muscles.
Reviving “me” on the road.
Me
Having said all of this, I’ve had some great adventures in the last few years. I love all of my travels. But they’ve been different. And change is fine as long as it’s thoughtful. That’s where I had gone astray. I was missing things I still wanted and wasn’t making happen for myself. My April Escape went a long way towards defining what I need to do and what I still want.
Travel is awesome. But like anything, you have to mix it up to keep it fresh.
Adventure on, friends!
How will you revive your travels?

The April Escape Series
August 7, 2018