Truck Life - Part II
I left my parents' house on February 11th, 2022. I had originally planned to stay until March, but that changed after I noticed the emotional challenges I was having while living at home. I was grateful for a stable home to rest for some time immediately after graduating and now it was time to move on. I left my cameras behind - it now seemed like the right moment to take a break from video production.
I held vast ideas about where I would go with my truck home, but this is how it unraveled over the next four months:
0. NORTH CAROLINA: Learn how to snowboard in the Appalachian mountains
1. ALABAMA: Rock climbing at Sand Rock, camp at Blue Creek Public Area, Tuscaloosa for a couple nights to visit a college city
2. MISSISSIPPI: Camp at De Soto National Forest, visit mentors in Biloxi for a week
3. LOUISIANA: New Orleans for Mardis Gras 2022, camp and fish at Three Rivers WMA, regroup at Baton Rouge Library
4. TEXAS: Longview for a failed tinder date that ended up as a pool hall shooting, visit friends in Dallas, go fish, camp at Lake Trammell
5. NEW MEXICO: Carlsbad snowstorm, picking up a hitchhiker, Carlsbad caverns
6. TEXAS: Hueco Tanks bouldering and camping, El Paso with a native American couple who became new friends
7. NEW MEXICO: Las Cruces beer trivia, rock climbing, job interviews, hiking the Organ mountains, backpacking the Gila National Forest
8. ARIZONA: skipped through this state, would revisit a year later
9. NEVADA: Temporarily live with my sister and interview for a job in Utah
??. FLORIDA: Fly back home for a month of film festivals and friends
10. IDAHO: Rock climbing, river swimming, driving through wonderland
11. WASHINGTON: Visit my childhood best friend, drive through Pacific NW rainforest
12. OREGON: Visit another childhood best friend, hiking random rivers
13. CALIFORNIA: Camp in Redding, visit a dear friend in San Francisco
14. UTAH: Return to Las Vegas/St. George to begin a new chapter and new job in June 2022
Above is my table of contents. Below are my stories for each region. IMPORTANT NOTE: Before I began this trip, I had submitted my newly made film to festivals across the country. I began to plan the driving trip to match in time with these festivals, but most of them did not accept my film. Darn it!
So plans changed! that's life
NORTH CAROLINA
I met up with a lover (Frogg) and her friends to learn how to snowboard. We all went to Appalachian Ski Mountain to receive a lesson from a funny dude whose name I can't recall exactly, but "Chazz" would be a fitting guess to his personality. "You just gotta bend your knees and relax a little bit - you'll feel it when it starts working the right way." His casual lesson made me laugh because it reminded me of how I had taught surfing to Florida university students two years ago. The lesson was well mixed with talking and exercising the skill, and the progression from snowboarding a tiny slope to larger hill felt aptly timed. Afterwards we thanked the instructor and began an all-day session of trial-and-error on that icy, slick terrain. There was no powder and so many people at the resort, so when I started to get the hang of things by the 6pm sunset, my ass was bruised. But I'll never forget the first blue trail when I didn't fall - it was one of my last sessions of the night. I ripped down the icy slope, weaving to monitor my speed, and I even picked up some air from a small ramp.
"Yeeheee!!" I screamed as my board sailed down the icy trail at dusk.
As we left the ski mountain, this Florida boy felt a new appreciation for snow. One of our friends had bumped her head pretty bad on a fall (the dangers of snowboarding are no joke) so we spent the evening speaking softly and monitoring her. The next day my legs were TOAST! Frogg and I stopped home in Tennessee then split before I continued the trip south.
ALABAMA
Because it was my first February north of central Florida, my blood was shivering in adaptation. The Alabama sun felt righteous on my skin, and I passed through rolling hills of red rusty soil to arrive at Sand Rock Climbing Area. Frogg and I met up again for a couple days of limestone climbs. She was the one who taught me outdoor climbing in Arkansas two years prior, so we were excited to hop back on the wall together. She too was a recent university graduate living out of her car and driving out west (with her new pet kitten), so we made plans to cross paths early on! The climbs were rad, the air was cool, and we laughed about how little we both knew regarding the path that lay ahead of us. We climbed until it was dark. We read the Tao Te Ching. Camped. Cooked meals. We jump started her dead car battery. We cooked breakfast in the parking lot of a Cracker Barrel. Then we moved on.
I camped alone at Blue Creek Public Area for three nights. I fished, exercised, hiked, made a campfire, read my book, journaled, watched the full moon and pondered boredom. This became a similar routine for some time to come. It felt very peaceful with occasional bouts of loneliness. I didn't catch any fish, but I waved at the fishermen who passed by. I cooked some fun new meals on my camp stove.
Tuscaloosa was next - "Wow, an exciting college city where I could meet some people!" What a bright-eyed view I had driving by the University of Alabama. In reality, the loneliness only grew around so many other people my age. I wasn't really in the mood to try and meet people and spend money at bars, so I kept to myself quietly. I visited libraries and the Alabama Museum of Natural History to read and observe prehistoric dinosaur bones. I'm glad it went the way it did, and when I was ready, I moved on.
MISSISSIPPI
De Soto National Forest was my first stop, and I was happily breathing warm, humid air again. The sweet, sweaty swamp greeted me with a winter rainstorm on my first night. I dawdled around the muddy forest to take my first gander of crawdad holes, a deteriorating turtle corpse, and a river bank. I used my dull knife to cut apart some turtle skin (WAY tougher than I expected) and slung it onto a hook in hopes of catching some catfish to cook. No bites, and eventually my line got tangled on some downed trees. I have always been a noob at fishing, but I can't stay away because it's just so damn peaceful and then suddenly exciting. The dopamine rush of anticipation is real.
After a couple nights, I set sail for Biloxi where I would stay with a university mentor and her husband for seven days on an air mattress. Their home was gorgeous, their cat was dramatic, their dog was terrified of me, and they felt like family. Lisa and Patrick are their names. Lisa taught me to trust in my filmmaking. Patrick taught me how to filet a fish and keep my chin lifted when I sang and played guitar. They were in their (mostly) retired years, and Patrick was progressing through the middle stages of Parkinson's disease. One day, Lisa left the house to run some errands. Patrick quickly grabbed the keys and tossed them to me -
"Get your shoes on. We're going out to get some Oreos."
"Are you sure Lisa will be ok with that?"
"She'll be fine. Let's go."
Walking through the Walmart with this man was a terrifying and hilarious journey. He promised that he would use the electric wheelchair cart, but when we saw there were none left, he didn't give a shit. I was so worried. He stormed towards the cookie isle, suddenly freezing, shaking, and frightening the hell out of the many people weaving around us. I would catch him before he fell over. He didn't seem to care what others thought - he just kept going. I couldn't help but anxiously laugh. After we secured cookies and milk, he said "you know, I need some new sandals too. Let's find the shoe section." I winced, shrugged, and steadily walked the cart next to him for support. Thankfully, we made it out of there without any injuries. On the ride home, I couldn't stop smiling. Commitment to cookies was enough to make me respect any man, let alone this southern retired war-time journalist. Lisa was pissed at Patrick when we got home, but I just kept laughing. What a wild time in Biloxi.
They reached out to their friends in New Orleans and asked if I could park my truck out front during Mardi Gras. We all had a video call together and I was ebullient when the friends said yes. New Orleans on Mardi Gras?! This was a bucket list item for sure. On one of my last nights in Biloxi, I parked and camped out at a beach / boat dock. The sunset was powerful. The saltwater fog crept in with the most eerie pace. I slept like a dead man that night. In the morning, I greeted Lisa and Patrick goodbye and moved on with a heart full of gratitude. This would be the last time I saw Patrick before his death later that year. He gifted me my camp cooking pot, he taught me how to make Louisiana gumbo, how to filet a fish, how to hold my chin up while I sang and played guitar. Nowadays, I often thank his spirit in my prayers.
LOUISIANA
New Orleans here we come! The married couple who hosted me lived on the northside of Carrollton. The woman was a librarian, and the man was a sustainable architecture advisor. I parked on the street, slept in my truck and used earplugs. They let me use the kitchen and restroom during my 4-day stay, which was very generous of them. We even went to a nearby parade together! I am thankful for their presence - I would only see them for these few days, then again one year later at Patrick's spreading of ashes and celebration of life.
I walked for many miles on my first day of Mardi Gras in NOLA. I encountered my first foot injury from poorly supportive shoes, so eventually I had to sit back and watch parades pass by. I trashed the old inserts and got back on the streets for day two. But I soon realized that coming to this city alone was not as thrilling as I expected. I was disappointed to see the amount of trash that people were generating from beads, food, drinks, and gifts. The streets were littered with waste. I watched floats pass, and after I got bored of cheering for plastic (mostly manufactured in Asia) to be thrown at me, I pondered this hedonistic holiday. I walked to Church street and I remember thinking:
"This must be what hell is like."
The pungent smells of piss, alcohol and sweat running through the gutters and along the sidewalks. Children begging for money in the same place where collegiate fraternity brothers stumble and stutter. A man on the corner waving a sign about Jesus. No one smiled at me, even when I forced a smile their way. Why should they? Who was I to expect anything of a place I had barely met. But I knew I couldn't stay for long - I pushed further down the alleys until I made it to Frenchman street. I was grateful to find a burnout, hippy, hipster, speak-easy scene. Back on day 1, a barista had recommended I check this place out. I hopped between bars to watch live musicians play originals and covers. Brass bands accompanied with bass and electric guitars. Voices of liquid gold. Vocal ranges that sent shivers down my spine. This is the area of New Orleans that I will always remember fondly. I stayed at the last bar for a couple hours, sipping my cheap beer alone. When the music pace picked up, the bar filled and a couple of folks walked over with me to tell me I was cute. We danced together, then they invited me to come to a rave with them. They said I could crash at their AirBnb. I was so exhausted, but right then and there, I said yes and bought a $50 ticket to the event. When we got to their AirBnb I took a shower and short nap, then when I came out, the other people staying at the Airbnb introduced themselves. Two Vietnamese folks in their 20s or 30s wrapped in bath towels stepped out of the shower. They dropped their towels to introduce themselves. They were tall, transgender women, both with breasts and penises. They asked me if I wanted to fuck them. Shocked and momentarily at a loss of words, I said "No, not right now, thank you." One followed up by asking "do you think I'm hot?" My jaw still hanging, I said "uhh yeah I think you're beautiful." She said thank you, and I finally managed to turn my eyes away. One of the friends I met teased them to "stop harassing the new guy". I sipped from my water bottle and sat back on the couch. The rave was ok, but no amount of alcohol seemed to numb my tired body and sore legs from walking the city. Back from the Airbnb, I slipped off to the private bedroom while everyone continued to party. I crashed on the bed, woke up early and let myself out. As I walked the glum streets of rainy trash, I wondered.
Was last night real??
I texted my gratitude to one of the friends. He eventually responded, confirming my memories.
I left New Orleans and I stopped at a library in Baton Rouge to do some research. I found a campsite at Three Rivers Wildlife Management area. I spent the next four days here wading through the Mississippi river, fishing, making campfires, reading, playing guitar, and completing an over-the-phone interview for a job out west. Didn't catch any fish, but I did cook some good meals and listened to the southern birds sing throughout the swamp. These camping days were helpful to ground myself after intense tourism city energy.
TEXAS
Oh sweet Texas.
Longview, TX: As soon as I crossed the border, I matched with somebody on a dating app in the next town. I stopped at a public park to stretch my legs, fish and read some historic statues. Eventually the woman bailed on the date. First I stopped at a night club but it was barely populated and hosting a birthday party, so I kept driving on until I found a billiards bar. The air was smoky, everyone seemed to give me a dangerous side eye, and eventually I sat down with a beer to watch some people play billiards. I saw a woman sitting across the bar from me and asked her if she wanted to play. She agreed, but started by saying that she had a boyfriend and I'm too young for her. If her boyfriend found out, he'd come for me. I shrugged, said I wasn't interested in any relationship stuff, ordered another beer and we started the game. Then a lanky tattooed man with braided hair and a Gucci belt walked up to me "you good bro?" I hoped this was not the beginning of some fight. I said I was fine, and his tone lightened. He asked me where I was from and we chatted for a bit. He said he used to be a police officer. That made me laugh to myself - he seemed like a very shady drug dealer.
I began to turn back to the game, but was interrupted by three shrieking gun shots.
Two more followed. The music stopped. The indoor bouncer took out his handgun and charged outside. I dropped under the pool table, concerned that the bar was being attacked. The woman stood there next to me, laughing.
"Are you afraid?" She asked with her downward glance, one hand leaning on the pool stick and the other on her hip.
"Yeah. I don't want to get shot!"
"This happens all the time here. I'm used to it. Haven't you heard? The nickname of this place is Murderview."
Turns out someone was shot out front. They were still alive and now riding in an ambulance. The shooter dropped the gun and ran. Right after the incident, the sketchy Gucci-belt guy darted outside and unloaded the gun on the ground, so the police were questioning him. I got the hell out of there and drove two towns over to the nearest cracker barrel where I slept in awe. I had never heard of Murderview before but now I'll never forget it. Every time I've heard a nearby gun shot or car tire pop since I then, my body goes into fight or flight mode.
Lake Fork, TX: I drove to a lake that someone had recommended I visit. Slept at a boat ramp, tried fishing all morning with no bites. Eventually I broke my fishing pole in half while trying to get my hook unstuck. That was the last time I have tried fishing to this day.
Dallas, TX: I stopped by to stay with some old friends from my university. I was grateful for this familiar company - hadn't had that since Mississippi. Even better, these were some really good friends who were my own age! Deon and Michelle took me around for some great experiences - a rock climbing gym, jazz bar, jacuzzi conversations, with plenty of beers shared among us. Michelle's boyfriend had a crawfish boil birthday party. That was rad and I'll never forget the Cajun spice temporarily soothed by a slosh of whiskey or lager. We drunkenly sat on the roof to watch the Texas sunset. I really cherished nights like these - memorable moments with good people. I stayed here for four days.
The car that Deon drove was unforgettable. It was a sedan with a tattered black matte armor rusting away. The rear bumper was removed after a bad accident that left dents and damage to the vehicle's interior. The accident was years ago and Deon was given insurance money. But instead of using it to repair the car, he kept it for other things. "Yeah it still runs fine, so I just drive it like this." A trip in the passenger seat was like riding a rattling rollercoaster with abrupt speed bumps - the suspension would sieze, shutter and convulse every few seconds, increasing in frequency with more speed and thumping loudly and throwing your body upwards and forwards. We drove through a rough construction area and I thought the car might croak at any second. Maybe the wheels would cave in and the tires would shoot off. The seatbelt could leave bruises on you from restraining the power of the machine. I couldn't stop laughing on our ride to the gym as I was tossed about the metal cage. How could anyone drive this thing without worrying? At that time, I was learning how to care and maintain my own truck while I was living out of it, so to allow a vehicle to make it to this point was enough to render me awestruck. The car made it through Dallas highways just fine though, and anyway, this was just temporary while Deon was building out his sprinter van in the backyard. He planned to live nomadically and work online.
Lake Trammell, TX: The next four days were spent near a quiet lake in the center of Texas. Signs said no swimming allowed, but the winter days got warm enough to convince me otherwise. More campfires, guitar, stargazing, reading and writing. I made a short video to capture an idea I had birthed in boredom - to create a drum set from my DIY kitchen. After enough camping, I moved on.
I then spent a few days out of Texas to take care of some chores in Carlsbad and explore Carlsbad Caverns National Park. It was a 2-day adventure of its own.
CARLSBAD, NM: I drove around town looking for someone who could offer me free wifi because today was the final deadline to enter my documentary episodes into the Florida Film Festival. Uploading the content was proving to be time consuming, and the establishments I visited (libraries and cafes) weren't open long enough for me to finish the upload. I was getting nervous. Finally a kind manager at IHOP let me takeover a table and get to work. Big thanks to her 🙏🏼 when I was walking out at midnight, I realized I hadn't chosen a place to sleep yet. I found a nearby Love's gas station. When I awoke the next morning, I was in the middle of a blizzard. The sideways winds were blowing snowflakes into the cracks of my truck window. It was a gorgeous, calming sight to wakeup to until I realized my sleeping bag was getting wet. Still, the morning light danced on the swirling snowflakes before they softly landed on me. I moved things around the cabin and then went inside the gas station for a coffee and change of clothes. As I sipped, I got to chatting with a man named Louie sitting next to me. He had just escaped a rehab center that was trying to keep him there until a family member could bring him home to Silver City, 5hrs west of here. Louie asked if I was headed that way. "No, I have plans to see the caverns and stop in El Paso next." He said he would take a grey hound bus, then, so he just needed a ride back to the rehab center to get his stuff that he left behind, then to the greyhound stop. So I offered him the ride when the blizzard passed. Along the way, he said his Dad always told him to get to the nearest Truck station if he needed a safe ride somewhere. Louie is a white-heroin addict in recovery. He had a few kids and a wife who supported him even though this was his 5th time in rehab, and he hoped it would be his last. He quietly cried as he spoke about this. Then he told me I should get a handgun if I'm travelling alone, especially in New Mexico, in case any snakes or Gila monsters tried to get me. "I don't think I need a gun - I have a couple knives I carry on me." He laughed in disbelief. "You're a crazy gringo. Them knives won't do shit."
To thank me for the ride, he tried to give me his cherished dollar - it was a coin. I refused it, so he turned around and gave it to a woman begging on the street. I laughed a bit, and as I drove away, I began to cry.
He said goodbye and stepped onto the bus.
Carlsbad Caverns National Park, NM: The winter desert silenced me. The caverns resembled an expansive geologic cathedral. The quiet walk alone into the cave was a spiritual experience. If you can go here yourself, you must. That's all I will say.
Hueco Tanks, TX: Back to Tay-has. Hueco Tanks is a world-renowned rock climbing spot filled with challenging bouldering problems. It's also a state park that has been beautifully managed. The rangers require all visitors to watch a video that tells an extensive history of this rocky terrain riddled with petroglyphs. A required video?
Finally, a park that knows how to make their visitors give a shit. The massive, protruding park is made of a granite-like, igneous material called porphyritic syenite. Holes, pockets or "huecos" have been carved over the past thirty million years after magma entered the limestone, followed by wind and rain eroding away the labyrinth of stone.
I slept out front of the park one night prior in order to get an early spot in the queue. I entered alone, carrying my chalk and shoes with hopes that I'd find some new friends to climb beside (and use their crash pad). During the short informative video, I met a group of college students who drove over from Dallas to climb. They were apart of a climbing club, so they carried three or four crash pads. We spent most of the day climbing together and I got my fair share of tricky rock problems by the late afternoon. We used my binoculars to view nearby Aoudads, the wild, non-native horned sheep that roam the land. Near sunset, I began to descend the rock fortress to figure out where I'd sleep tonight. A strange experience occurred on that descent.
I passed a man and woman laughing and holding hands. I waved hello with my blistered fingers. The woman complimented by sweatshirt and asked where I came from.
"Florida originally. But nowadays, I don't live anywhere in particular."
She introduced herself as Jessica, and her husband was Hammer. They asked a few more questions about my life and then recommended a line of work for me.
"If you like the life of a nomad, you should look into wilderness therapy." Jessica said.
"That's funny you mention it - I am interviewing with a few companies right now."
"Which one do you think you'll choose?"
"So far, Evoke Therapy Programs seems like the best option."
"Ha. I used to work there years ago! I worked for six months before I injured my leg. It was the best job I ever had - and I've worked as a biologist around the world."
How serendipitous. When I told them I was planning to sleep at the Cracker Barrel tonight, they invited me to stay in their spare room for as long as I needed. They hiked on, I climbed a couple more routes in excitement, then I met up with them later that night for a Hare Krishna event in El Paso.
El Paso, TX: The event featured some famous speaker, but once I saw it was a white man, I cared less about what he said and more about all of the diverse followers in the audience. We danced and sang and ate. I went home with Jess and Hammer and slept on a cot. Their home was beautiful and they ran a dog training business. I met their two German shepherds who took well to me. Over the next few days, I learned many things from them, including stories from their native American background. Jessica came from Apache blood, and Hammer is from the Winnebago tribe in Wisconsin - "Like the camper van. It sucks that they stole our name for their vehicle brand." Jessica taught me new yoga poses and how to read animal symbolism. Hammer used to be a hand-to-hand combat trainer for American Special Ops before his spinal injury, so he taught me a few Krav Maga fighting techniques. I stayed for four days. One day, I drove into town and walked across the bridge to Ciudad Juarez in Mexico where I tried elote and wandered aimlessly. I'll never forget the generosity and friendship they gave me. One day, when I have a stable home, I will offer my resources to a traveler and pass on this gift. Such a powerful finale to this journey through Texas.
NEW MEXICO
Las Cruces, NM: Just a few hours north of El Paso lives Las Cruces, a truly cool town. I met with an old friend named Liz for some beer trivia. I think our team came in last place but we had so much fun! Liz and I hadn't known each other very well, but she responded to a social media post I wrote about travelling around the US, and she invited me to join her for a couple days. She allowed me to park and sleep outside of her tiny adobe apartment. In the morning, we grabbed coffee and went rock climbing with another friend Erin at a gorgeous, remote desert location in the Rough and Ready Hills. More beer, some spicy food, and a sweet farewell followed.
The next day I stopped for some more over-the-phone job interviews on my way to the Organ mountains. I only spent an afternoon hiking here, but it was enough to humble me good and well. The desert has so many spiky plants! I returned on the out-and-back trail with regret in my decision to wear shorts, but with a new respect and admiration for desert nature. I hopped into my car and started the drive to Silver City.
Gila National Forest, NM: I had been looking forward to this for a couple of months now. I remember driving up the mountain to find a campsite as I listened to The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan album. The cozy feeling of surrounding pine trees, the realization of no internet connection, the sunset and music all came together and I pulled over to cry my eyes out.
An early start brought me to the Gila Cliff Dwellings to explore and observe the traces left by an older, cave-dwelling civilization. I stopped at the visitor center to discuss some backpacking options with a ranger. Cooked myself a nice dinner of beans and rice. Then woke up at the crack ass of dawn the next day to get on the trail with my backpack.
I combined "Jordan Hot Springs via Little Bear Canyon Trail" with "Little Bear Canyon Trail" and some other trail that I forget. In total, I covered about 18 miles in two days by hiking a loop with over 60 creek crossings. By the end, I damaged by feet and ankles by hiking in unsupportive sandals...but the trip itself was awesome. Using my bug-netted hammock, I camped beside a hot spring where I spent hours soaking my sore muscles. I walked among steep cliffs with soaring birds and leaping amphibians. I loved every second of it. Until the end. I only made it to the road by limping and bleeding from blisters on my toes, so I hitchhiked back to my car and left the Gila National Forest with gusto.
ARIZONA
With my sore muscles and foot injuries, I booked it through Arizona to get to a safe haven. My sister was living in Las Vegas, so I knew this would be a good place to heal and recover. I only stopped in Flagstaff for kava and gasoline. As a first time with kava, I was impressed by the mellow body response! But after it wore off, I drove on. A year later, I would return to camp at Arizona's Grand Canyon with a lover. But that's another story :)
NEVADA / FLORIDA / UTAH
It gets a bit mixed up here.
Once I made it to my sister's place in Vegas, I slowed down considerably to savor air conditioning, a kitchen, and family time. She was working as a professional clown host at a legendary circus at Caesar's Palace, so I saw the show and met some of the funny folks in her community. My older sister has always been a role model in my life, and this time in Vegas only reconfirmed my admiration and respect for her.
After two weeks of healing, I boarded a flight back to Florida where I spent a month sharing my documentary with film festivals and spending time with friends. Photos here, here, here and here.
When I returned, I interviewed with Evoke Therapy Programs in Utah. The backpacking and therapy training lasted about nine days. I would come to live in Nevada for a total of two or three months before settling in Utah for a year. But before I officially started the job, I took two more weeks to venture the Pacific Northwest.
IDAHO
For my last chapter of truck livin' before settling down in Utah, I chose to increase the tempo. This means long drives with short stays - a pattern that I usually try to avoid. But with my work timeline, my budget and desires to explore, it's just how it had to be.
The northern drive from Vegas through Nevada was pretty boring and hot - but that's what you get for planning a 9hr drive right past the Great Basin National Park. Entering into Idaho was like a whole new planet, though. Sandy hills turned into rolling grassy pastures. Bushy, dry landscapes became bright green and breezy. These were the late-spring grasses that made you want to frolick like a cartoon character.
I was headed to Boise to see Dan, a good friend from my university's outdoor leadership program. Almost four years prior, Dan taught me how to surf off of Florida's space coast. I had fallen in love with surfing since then, and I would always remember his early lessons and encouragement as a gift. We had also climbed together (read the scary story here).
There ain't no surfin in Idaho, so we met up to climb Black Cliffs overlooking an emerald green section of the Boise river. Sunset rays illuminated the slick cubic basalt which formed warm columns with a fun range of difficulties. I met a few of Dan's Idahoan friends and we had some beers while we ascended and descended. No scary moments here - all was safe and sweet. After a brewery stop, Dan and I sat around to talk about life and pet his dog. Stella!!!! Da goodest girl around town.
The next morning I drove up to McCall - a gorgeous region of Idaho. I stopped along the way to swim in the freezing, rushing Payette river as green as the trees. I wrote some guitar music and laid in the sun. I made camp by the Payette Lake and stared up at the stars, eyes floating closed. When it was time to move on in the morning, I was stunned by the road that took me further north. I took State Road 55 to Route 95, and landed in what turned out to be my favorite rest stop in all of my journey. It was at a Chevron gas station in Riggins, Idaho, that I was truly mind blown by the landscape around me. This small village was nestled deep in a canyon at the intersection of two rivers. The air was fresh, crisp and cold. I was a tiny ant looking up at the earth surrounding me, listening to the powerful river washing by. The hills back up and out of the canyon were tough on my truck's four-cylinder engine, and the views from the top were enough to make me nauseous. Nobody else was driving on this road. Without a doubt, this landscape was carved by a creative god. The energy here was remote, intense and clean. I remember several tears falling from my eyes as I made my way through the terrain, vast and glowing under an overcast sky. Slept at some random reservation truck stop that night.
WASHINGTON
I crossed the border into Washington. The flat farmlands of Idaho gradually fade away to the Pacific Northwest rainforests. I marveled at the lush life around me. I remember thinking "I bet the people driving here just get used to this" and when I looked around, the other drivers seemed unaware of the biodiverse wonderland they were driving by. On the way, I received some life changing news over the phone which I'll keep private. I was lucky to be on my way to visit Ryan, one of my closest brothers since the third grade. He was living in Tacoma, a suburban sprawl just south of Seattle. He is in the army, and he's the complete opposite to me so we have complimented each other well since we met in third grade. I spent a couple days processing the news and catching up on life with him. We did what we always do - find a nice spot before sunset and walk laps spilling our souls, until we can't see in front of us anymore. Then we went to a bar and played pool. He told me about his life in the army, I told him about mine traveling on the road. My time with Ryan was special. I didn't like the Tacoma area so much though - Seattle wasn't interesting to me, so when my time was up, I hugged my brother and drove south to meet another longtime friend.
OREGON
Now nothing could stop me from pulling over to explore a forest. I think I stopped somewhere between Napavine and Castlerock. I delayed my tight travel schedule and pulled over to a public park. I spent hours walking trails and getting lost in a misty jungle. One part of the trail suddenly gains elevation and led into a large field of yellow flowers. Here I was again, crying in nature. The meadow was solemn peace. Waves of golden pedals and emerald leaves beneath vast blue skies. All of it among a flesh-eating world of chaos that we stumble through with plugged ears and numb eyes, minds running with worry. Surrender. I felt grace. I felt the presence of my grandmother.
When I made it to Eugene, it was an couple hours before sunset. Lily is another childhood friend, going back to the sixth grade. I met her while she was volunteering for a Baha'i event at a government-housing community. She led children in games, facilitated conversation among adults, and dished out dinner to everyone who came. I wondered about her life - it was certainly one that I had never lived. Lily grew up with me in Florida, but moved to Eugene for college to be near her family and back to a place she loved. She found the Baha'i faith in the last two years and committed to the religious lifestyle, taking on heavy responsibilities as she planned a path to grad school. She was working with developmentally challened children, volunteering, leading groups, and prepping for her next chapter of studies. She is a powerhouse of a human being - plus she's a guitarist, writer and singer. She finds a way to balance it all with enthusiasm. I stayed in her apartment parking lot that night, and in the morning, we went hiking. This trail was uphill through a forest with great big trees that embrace you every time you pass. Some were ponderosa pines - they smell like butterscotch if you stick your nose in their gaping bark cracks. Another righteous walk and talk, but this one involved a lot more panting. We exchanged stories and updates about mutual friends who we hadn't contacted in a while. A sweet mountain view at the top kept us smiling and laughing the whole way down. I said farewell with a warm feeling in my heart and a long ride ahead.
CALIFORNIA
Ahhhhh California. This was the state where I went on my first young-adult adventure trip with my girlfriend at the time. We started in San Diego and worked our way north. This time I was coming from the opposite direction. I stopped on the fringes of Redding to camp by a river. I stretched my muscles and stared up at the stars - clear skies tonight. I went to sleep early to wake with sunrise the next morning. Towel in hand, I left the road for a long walk through windy fields of waving high grass. The land began to slope and I was dumped through a brushy patch of bramble thorns and dense adolescent oaks. Bloody and cautious of every step, I finally emerged to the river I had set my sights on. With no one around, I stripped naked and washed myself in the freezing, gushing waterway. Smooth pastel stones made my steps easy. The icy water woke me with joy, and I swam around and screamed. I squatted on a rock to dry with the morning sun rays. Life was getting sweeter every day.
I rolled over more asphalt through San Francisco to stay with another friend, Elena from Belmont. It had been three years since we met at the 2019 Cannes Film Festival in southern France. Now Elena was wrapping up some of her work in Oakland and packing for LA to find a new job. I was welcomed by her, her mother, and their adorable chihuahua Beans. Beans was an old fart whose tongue hung from his mouth. It wasn't always that way. As the story goes, Elena was sitting in the back seat of a car with Beans as her mother drove them. When it comes to driving, Mother is known for her heavy foot. One of these abrupt red-light-stops sent Beans the poor chihuahua flying through the air to the front of the car. He hit the dashboard and fell to the ground. When he stood up after the incident, one of his front teeth were missing. The gap was now filled with his silly little tongue sticking out of the side. A real dope he was, but the decrepid old canine wagged his whole body with excitement when Momma brought out dinner.
Elena and I went to a Japanese garden in San Fran to stroll around for the afternoon. We grabbed some Chinese hot pot snacks and sat at a new park with the sunset lighting up the bay and city beneath us. On another day, I went alone to Half Moon Bay. Being on the northern California coast reminded me of my time at Big Sur with a lover in December 2018. We had explored several national parks together over two weeks and she helped me learn some about the freedoms of traveling. The cliffs and waves are just one scene that brings back memories. I love this idea - habitats of the mind. With their own systems of balance, animals, and food chains, I can drift back to any I choose. And some day far later when I'm in a mundane moment, I can remember that specific ecosystem. And I believe it's likely still moving at the same pace it once was.
I stopped by to see one more friend in Oakland before making my way back to Las Vegas. I had planned on stopping in LA too, but my first day of work was approaching and I wanted some alone time without movement. The drive from the Bay area to Vegas is pretty long and rotten, but I was thankful to the podcast Blowback for keeping me occupied with critical deep-dive stories from the Cuban missile crisis era.
I spent the next year (June 2022-2023) working in St. George, Utah. I started off commuting from Vegas where I stayed in my sister's apartment. But after two months, I found a room to rent in a house shared with other field guides. Because my shifts were 8 days on, 6 days off, I still went on trips around the region - rock climbing, snowboarding and camping. Occasionally I'd sleep in my truck during one of these excursions, so it was nice to keep the mattress as a backup crash pad. When I left the job and house in July 2023, I was back to sleeping in my car. I drove through the central states to make it back to my parents in Tennessee. I took a two-week trip up to New York City, a few days in New Jersey, back to Tennessee, and then a couple weeks in Florida. All along the way I'd sleep in the truck if I wasn't offered a couch or bedroom. Even NYC car sleeping wasn't too bad! Although it did get awfully hot that July.
I considered selling the truck a few times but never had enough reason. I named my truck after a window decal from the previous owner which I couldn't remove. I call her Jenny, short for Genesis (written in fancy white letters on the cab's rear window).
I think I've spent about a year's worth of nights sleeping in Jenny's shelter. It was an experience that I wouldn't repeat but I don't regret. Among other things, I learned to embrace a different type of moving home, to take things slowly, and to enjoy the space and sounds of nature. I was able to visit people who I cared for deeply but had been previously separated by distance. I saw parts of the country I had always wanted to see. And I did it without paying rent! Like I had written in Part I, I turned towards this way of life after my grandmother died of COVID. I didn't think about it much before I committed - I just knew I didn't want to wait for another loss before I tried something I was genuinely interested in.
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