Sometimes GPS doesn’t take you where you want to go, and sometimes you don’t know all the right questions when you ask for directions. Both those were the case when I made my reservations at Big Bend Ranch State Park in TX. There were no reservations left at the National Park, so I planned to stay my first night at a nearby state park before going to Big Bend.
Texas is ginormous and the GPS said it would take six hours to get to the state park from Central Texas. I usually don’t like to travel more than 300 miles in a day because there’s so much to see and because Ella needs to be wild and free, but in Texas you really can’t help it.
Leaving the hill country behind, I clicked Drive and we were on our way. Turns out, the state park is huge – everything’s bigger in TX – and when I arrived, I was at the wrong gate, and it was closed. Getting to the right gate would take another two hours! Ok, forget that; I’ll camp anywhere now. It’s 9:00 pm, and the drive had been way more than 6 hours – more like 8 – and I was exhausted.
I passed an RV park and stopped and asked if they had tent sites. The attendant said sure, and at the same time a young woman walked in asking for a tent site for her and her dog. We parked next to each other, the only car campers in the area, and we spent the whole night talking, sharing stories, and enjoying each other’s company. Her name was Tiara, and she was in her 20’s, had just quit her job, sold everything, and sleeps in her car, traveling the US. She traveled from the opposite direction, so she had just seen CA, AZ, and NM. After her US adventure she’s heading to Europe. She was a kindred spirit and an absolute delight – a breath of fresh air after my dispiriting day.
The following day we went our separate ways, and I went on to Big Bend National Park. What a joy!
Chisos Mountains at Big Bend
The Chisos Mountains are self-contained inside the park, and they are beautiful. The range is huge, which means the park is huge. It took a few hours to drive across it, end to end. Every part of it was gorgeous. I was limited in my hiking options with Ella, but there were plenty of opportunities to see the mountains on paved paths, scenic drives, and from overlooks. Truly breathtaking.
The sand was a light tan, more like dried clay, I assume from eroded sandstone and limestone. The foliage was fairly sparse and suited to this arid climate: yucca, prickly pear, walking sticks, and scrubby shrubs. Most of the mountains were bare or sprinkled with small, green shrubs, but at different elevations the foliage would change. At one point they were covered with small, fluffy, yellow, pom-poms, at another with juniper, cedar, and pines. Some are covered in smooth, slate-gray gravel, some in soft, golden sand, some in bright orange boulders. Bluebonnets were just starting to bloom, and road runners and deer crossed our path.
The views from the overlooks were striking because the mountains stretch seemingly forever. Some views are hazy-blue and jagged, some orangish-brown and flat-topped, some with broad, barren valleys in front of them, and some surrounding small but vibrant river basins. Some are part of a long, continuous series of mountains, and some stand alone like an upside-down funnel. All are awe-inspiring.
There are numerous places to discover beauty, and two of my favorites were the Chisos Basin and the Boquillas Hot Springs. The scenic drive to the Chisos Basin wound upward in the midst of the mountains on switchbacks and hairpins, and the views were magnificent. The road was lined with conifers, maybe the most green there is in one place at the park. The mountains were strikingly jagged and huge, rising into the blue sky, silhouetted against the sun-lit, white, fluffy clouds. There seemed to be no end to the variety of shapes or textures. It was a spectacular drive.
The Hot Springs drive was a one-lane, very winding, white, dirt road that hugged steeply angled cliff faces. The mountains were mostly bald and striated, like no others in the park. This area was not open to RVs or trailers, so once again I was super happy I was in my Subaru. When we got to the destination, Ella was not allowed on the hot springs trail, so I talked to a few volunteers at the trailhead. They said next week would be spring break, and the natural bath would be filled with students. The water is around 105 degrees and feeds the Rio Grande, so bathers would jump from the bath to the river and back again. Ella and I explored the ruins from the original settlers who had built the bathhouse – pretty dang cool.
Boquillas Hot Springs Drive
I’m going to digress here and talk about Texans and how they pronounce Spanish words. Rio Grande is pronounced Rio Grand, coyote is coyot (long o), Guadalupe is Guadalup (long u), San Antonio is San Anton (long o). All the Spanish names are kept, but the pronunciations are Anglicized, or should I say Americanized. The strangest one is Pedernales River, which is pronounced Perdinalis. Texans are adorable. I think it goes back to Texas being a republic and the Mexican Wars, I’m not sure, but you absolutely stand out as a furiner when you pronounce all the syllables in a word!
Camping at Big Bend was a mixed bag. I was at the Rio Grande campground, and it was very crowded. Even the backcountry sites looked full. As I was driving to my reserved site, there was a wild boar foraging in the campground a few sites away. Bears, coyotes, and other critters are expected visitors, but I really wasn’t expecting a boar. I’m so glad Ella missed it because she would have been in full predator mode! After setting up camp and a quick supper, I pulled out my Stargazer chair and relaxed in the dark, staring at the starlit sky.
Big Bend is designated a Dark Sky destination for its remoteness and lack of light pollution, so I was really looking forward to the night sky views. The Milky Way is prominent during summer but not so much in winter, so I knew I wouldn’t get that spectacular view, and to be sure, I saw way more stars than I ever did at home, but because of all the people, the accompanying lights meant I didn’t get the views of the stars I was hoping for.
These campers were off-the-chain social and obviously didn’t know about quiet hours. I usually say the RVers make the most noise in a campsite because they bring children and generators. In this case, it was the tent campers who kept me awake, telling stories and laughing well past midnight. I almost got irritated, but I remembered the night before when I stayed up laughing and sharing stories with Tiara late into the night. Everyone deserves to have a good time and to make sweet and solid connections. Also, laughter is good for the soul, even when you’re just listening to it!
The rivers in the Texas hill country are aquamarine and lined with the most beautiful, tall, white, cypress trees that stretch both up to the sky and down into the riverbeds. The trees’ roots – almost as long and as big as the trees themselves – twist and sprawl to create the river’s banks. They are home to fish below and birds above, and they create an enchanting, magical atmosphere. Central Texas, unlike the majority of the flat state, is rolling with mountains of various sizes and a number of rivers that give rise to aquifers and springs. The terrain and climate are perfect for farms, vineyards, and ranches of all kinds.
Cypress roots on the Guadalupe River
While I visited in February, the ground and air were dry. The days vacillated between 45-80 degrees, and the nights between 20-65, and there was no dewfall. The ground is covered with dry clay, dirt, and gravel, and most of the vegetation is thick brush and cactus intermixed with cedars, junipers, and live oak. The mountainous areas are covered with boulders – round, square, orange, and gray. The skies were always clear.
I spent almost the whole month of February in Texas because I visited my oldest sister and my oldest son. Also, because Texas is huge. I went to several hill country state parks, and they were all beautiful – so very different from the Alabama terrain and vegetation I’m used to. Coyotes, armadillos, deer, and rabbits visited our campsites, keeping Ella on high alert. Prickly pear, yucca, walking stick, and pincushion cacti taught Ella lessons she had no idea she needed to learn.
I also learned some lessons during my travels through the hill country.
Guadalupe River State Park
Lesson: Everyone does it differently
The Guadalupe River cuts through a canyon leaving a striated cliff of orange, tan, yellow, and slate colored rock. The cliff is dotted with small holes where birds nest and is topped with giant, sprawling prickly pears. Armadillos were bold, coming within one foot of Ella on her leash, daring her.
Guadalupe River State Park
While the river and gorge were beautiful, what caught my attention most was how differently people camp. The campground was filled, and families enjoyed their stay in many different ways:
Long, luxurious, pop-up and pop-out RVs towing vehicles behind.
Renovated buses that could rival the finest RVs.
Fifth-wheels attached to massive pickup trucks.
Teardrop trailers that provided just enough room to be comfortable.
Rooftop tent campers, like Yours Truly.
Tent campers in Jeeps with canoes, kayaks, and bikes mounted all around.
Self-contained vans where the camper never had to exit the vehicle.
Car campers who slept in their backseats and cooked out of the trunks.
The campsites were just as varied:
Some put down outdoor rugs, put out flags, tablecloths, plants, welcome signs proclaiming they were Happy Campers! or Livin’ La Vida Loca!
Some set up separate screen gazebos for cooking, dining, and socializing. String lights and music were the usual fare here.
Some brought golfcarts, bicycles, gators, skiffs, all the means for a full family adventure.
Others kept a low profile. Nothing extra, no frills. Serious business. The park was a place to stay for the night, nothing more.
One thing that was common across the board, is that everyone was legitimately on the move. Whether they had TV and air conditioning or were sleeping on the ground in the elements, everyone was away from the brick-and-mortar structure of home with the intent of enjoying the outdoors.
It was fun to see, and I felt like part of a community of folks all doing the same thing but each in our own way. We would meet and talk to each other real friendly-like, exchanging stories and information about where we’ve been and where we’re going, then go back to doing our own thing.
Pedernales Falls State Park
Lesson: Not all waterfalls are the same
The falls at Pedernales River were not like any I had seen. Compared to other parks, the topography was similar, the flora and fauna were similar, the river was similar, but the falls were unique. Rather than water falling from a much higher point to a much lower point, these falls were tiered pools, like natural locks that filled eroded rock basins and overflowed into the next tier, one after another, until it finally spilled into the full, wide river at the bottom.
Pedernales Falls State Park
The tiers were wide rock shelves of different types of rock, and it was easy to see that during rains this waterfall would be formidable. We climbed down to the flats, and Ella drank from one of the pools.
The purpose of the waterfall is to move water that is up there to down here. Gravity does its part, water seeks its own level, and all that. The great part is, it doesn’t really matter how it’s done or what it looks like, just that it moves in the right direction. Somehow this comforts me. I sure don’t always get things done the way others do, but by golly, I gitter done.
Enchanted Rock Natural Area
Lesson: A big start doesn’t mean diddly squat
The surroundings at Enchanted Rock were magnificent, and Ella and I had a super sweet spot at the base of the mountains. I was only able to hike the Loop Trail with her, but I was OK with that. It was long and afforded a wonderful view of the park from all directions.
We started off with a bang. The cactus were beautiful, the wintering trees were loaded with mosses and lichens, and the boulders were enormous and came in every size and shape.
As the trail continued after a mile or so, the view was far less spectacular. The vegetation was sparse and monotonous, the mountains and rock formations were so far in the distance it was difficult to see them, and it was hot. So hot. The trail was red, dusty dirt, the grasses were short and gray, and the few trees we passed were bare.
I had expected that since the beginning of the walk was so spectacular that it would be that way for the full five miles. Not so. Finally coming to the realization that the next few miles would be exactly the same as the past barren mile, we halted our walk and turned around. We trudged through another mile of hot, dusty desert before coming back to the beautiful variety of enchanting rocks that headed the trail.
While perseverance is usually the best course of action in life, it’s also important to know when to cut your losses. Things that start with promise and potential don’t always stay that way. Read the signs and respond wisely. I was so happy when we turned around! I knew we were putting that dry, dusty, hot, bare path behind us.
Colorado Bend State Park
Lesson: Sometimes a difficult journey is just not worth it
We headed to Gorman Falls at Colorado Bend on the recommendation of a blogger who offered the advice that it was a much more difficult trail than advertised, so beware. Sounded great to me!
Sure enough, the trail was very rocky and got more difficult the closer it got to the falls. Some parts of it were cut directly into rock, and we had to take very sure-footed steps over and around rock-points poking up out of the ground. It was fun and exciting.
Our blood pumping with the changes in elevation, we could finally hear the falls, and it was musical. There is something about the sound of running water in nature, especially when the air is hot and dry, and you have worked up a good thirst. The next leg of the trail was down a rock face that had grown slippery with the volume of hikers sliding down it over time.
There were handrails installed to help hikers keep their balance and to keep from falling. This was more than moderately difficult, without a doubt. My legs were shaking with fatigue, my breath was short, and my heart was pounding. Ella was lurching and making her own way, so I was trying to balance her momentum with my need to stay upright and hang onto the guard rail. I felt victorious when we made it to the bottom!
The falls were sad. There hadn’t been much rain so there was only a trickle, and the cliff face was really just a wall of dirt and mud. Not even pretty. The river at the bottom was just as unimpressive. Ella and I drank some water we had brought with us, turned around and headed back.
The climb up was not quite as arduous as going down. My muscles ached more, and my heart pounded harder, but I wasn’t nearly as prone to being sucked to the ground by gravity like a magnet.
The hike was good for its own sake. No regrets there. But it was in no way worth the view of that sad, little waterfall. Sometimes a difficult journey is just a journey for its own sake. What’s at the end is so not worth it.
Longhorn Cavern State Park
Lesson: History is underrated OR You’re work may be unappreciated, but it’s important
The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) was a group of volunteer young men in the 1930’s who took on the task of developing, improving, and enhancing many of the parks we now enjoy. Before the war, these fellas were like scouts who cut trails, graded areas for campsites, and cleared out caves. To the outdoorsperson, they are veritable heroes. The program ended when the war began, and the majority of the men were drafted.
Longhorn Cavern Park is a historic park that showcases the work of the CCC. Ella and I were not able to go into the cavern, but we did tour the architecture which included outdoor patios, an administrative building, and a lookout tower.
This park is nowhere near as beautiful as the others we have visited and so is easy to overlook, but it is probably more important. The work of the CCC was used all over the US to create some of the best-known National Parks and state parks that are widely used today. These men, all aged 18-25, unemployed, and unmarried, literally paved the way for our enjoyment of the nation’s most beautiful natural resources. Little is known of them individually today.
Sometimes your work will be unappreciated, taken for granted, even unnoticed. That doesn’t make it unimportant. In fact, history being what it is, most of us don’t think about the work done by those who have gone before. The right to vote, our way of life, access to resources, and our individual liberties are things we take for granted every day. Historical figures have sweated and bled so we might fully enjoy those things without a thought. History is truly underrated.
Garner State Park
Lesson: Believe you can achieve the unattainable, but respect your limits
The Rio Frio runs through Garner State Park and is used for all sorts of water sports. It is one of those aquamarine paradises lined with magnificent cypress trees whose roots twist and sprawl into the riverbanks. It’s beautiful.
Ella on the cypress roots at Garner State Park
Crazily enough, while on my way here, the GPS guided me through several ranches on a farm road. It was a dirt road that wove through a patchwork of ranches whose boundaries could be identified by their cattle grates and open gates. The cattle were loose, grazing and crossing the road in front of me. It was unexpected but totally added to the magic of getting to the park.
Ella and I were some of the only campers at the park, which is huge and full during the summer months. It is a real family-friendly park, with many options for outdoor activities. For us, the trail by the river was our choice. For me, the scenery was amazing and peaceful. For Ella, the squirrels were a constant challenge and thrill.
One particular squirrel delighted in taunting Ella. It followed us from tree to tree and screeched at Ella from the lowest branches. Once Ella caught sight of it, she tried to chase it up the tree. She was certain she could catch it, and to be fair, she got pretty far up the trunk, hanging on by her claws. She wouldn’t give up. When the squirrel jumped to another tree, Ella tried to climb that one too. It was delightfully endearing to watch her do her utmost to scale her way up that thick trunk. She was relentless.
Ella climbing a tree after a squirrel. She believes!
Alas, no matter how much she believed she could make it, and no matter how much effort she put into the process, she would never be able to climb that tree. It was her primary goal to catch that squirrel, but she just wasn’t equipped for success. And that’s ok.
What she did instead was target a different squirrel on the ground. The only limits she has there are the ones I put on her. But that’s another lesson for another day.
The Everglades National Park surprised me. I didn’t expect it to be nearly as vast as it was, as varied as it was, or as easy to navigate as it was. Our campsite inside the park was dog-friendly, surprisingly, because the park does not allow dogs on the trails for alligator reasons. The campsite was clean and well-maintained, of course, and had great amenities. The wildlife was close and shrouded in the tropical brush of the campsite. At night, the bird sounds were more noticeable than the most vocal frogs and crickets. One bird called loudly all night long, every 30-90 seconds or so. It sounded so unfamiliar, like a woman in distress, but as the night wore on, because it was so constant, it became almost soothing. The owls were loud and almost haunting but oddly comforting with their intermittent and prolonged hooting. Occasionally some other wild, unidentifiable sounds broke through, strange yet beautiful, just a wonderful mixture of all manner of nightlife. It was very humid, but there were fewer mosquitoes than I ever expected. Although I never needed mosquito repellent, I did make sure that I had on long sleeves and long pants in the evening. It was 70s at night, so it was comfortable, but the humidity drenched any gear I left out overnight.
One of my favorite things about camping in the Everglades was meeting a new friend, Kathy, and her dog, Cora. This was her practice trip so she could figure out how she wanted to build out her van. She was looking at other people’s vans, taking notes, and researching – all the same things I did with my Subaru before this trip. We hit it off right away. She was super interesting and great company. A retired biology teacher with a dream of traveling in her van to visit family and friends, she was immersing herself in nature and the outdoors. We became fast friends.
Cora was a great influence on Ella. Ella seems to be super great with people but not super great with other dogs. Cora was a black lab, around 10 years old, and so docile and compliant that Kathy would let her off leash without ever a worry. She’s just such a good dog, and she made fast friends with Ella. The two played so sweetly together, rolling around with each other, softly mouthing each other’s necks and ears, taking turns rolling on their backs, their tails constantly wagging. It was a great experience for me to see Ella play with endless joy, and probably a great experience for Ella to learn that other dogs can be friends.
Since Ella couldn’t go on any trails, she and I experienced a good part of the park from the car. Looking out my window, if I didn’t know I was looking at the Everglades, I would have thought I was looking at acres and acres of grassy hayfields. You have to get out and up close and personal to really enjoy the ubiquity and variety of flora and fauna. There are several trails, some board-walked, and some through hammocks, but none are dog-friendly, for good reason. Alligators are everywhere. Everywhere. So are snakes and cougars, but I never did see either of those. On the other hand, I couldn’t count the number of alligators I saw. I was able to explore a few trails one day when I stayed at a hotel in Homestead where I could safely leave Ella for a few hours. The trails are gorgeous and teeming with life and wonders.
Driving through miles and miles of Everglades
The Everglades are an almost 8,000-square-mile filter for slow moving watershed that flows from a collection of rivers and lakes down into the sea. It is fresh water as it filters through the glades, but as it enters the sea it mixes with the saltwater and is home to various wildlife, including the American crocodile. This was news to me. I had no idea we have crocs in the US. Seriously. Alligators AND crocodiles. The crocs are born into the freshwater, and as they develop and mature, they make their way through the glades to the saltwater. I never saw a crocodile to my knowledge. But I saw tons of gators.
The birds in the Everglades were the star attraction, really. There were so many species, big and small, familiar and strange, beautiful and not-so-beautiful. The vultures there don’t just circle high in the air around prey, but they congregate and visit with each other on the ground, especially in the parking lots. I mean they are everywhere, like gangs, seemingly looking for trouble. They greet the cars by the several-dozen. In fact, they love to play on the cars so much that the park offers tarps for you to hook over your vehicle for protection. It’s supposed to deter the vultures, but it just seems to challenge them. They get on the cars with the tarps and pick at them until the tarps are full of giant holes. They were indiscriminate though. They also flocked to the cars without tarps. The things they apparently love about cars, tarp or not, are the rubber seals around the windshields and windows, and any kind of substance they can try to remove with their beaks. Man, they really love that! They are pests, but they’re also indigenous to the area. And they are fun to watch. So, to deter their car molesting behavior, the park set up a little vulture playground for them. It looks like a little cat’s or toddler’s gym with little dangly toys hanging from it, like rings, rope knots, and tiny swings. The vultures love it, but they would also get on the cars and just hang out, watching all the people. I’m not sure if they were waiting for one of us to drop dead, but they were fearless. When they flew fast and low overhead, the sound of the wind whooshing over their massive wings sounded like an X-wing from Star Wars. No kidding. Very impressive.
Vulture playground
The Anhinga Trail is a boardwalk trail that goes through the glades, over the water, so you have the feeling you are walking through all the plant life in there – the grassy glades, the mangroves, the lily pads. It’s all just gorgeous. The grassy glades seem endless. They stretch for miles and miles through the water throughout all of South Florida. Once in a while there is a break in the glades where the water looks flat and still. There, you see expanses of lily pads hiding alligators, turtles, fish, frogs, and birds. Throughout you will see mangroves – shrubs that grow above the water but have a root system that stretches way down and anchors into the silt below. You can see where the root system, a tangled ball of sticks that starts about six inches or so above the water, branches up into a beautiful, green shrub. The roots below the water are a wonderful habitat for fish, shrimp, snails, crabs, and all kinds of wildlife.
Turtle swimming in the mangroves
Outside the park, Ella and I drove the Tamiami Trail which stretches across the Everglades to the Big Cypress National Preserve. I was interested in an airboat ride, and one of the blogs I read said to skip all the touristy ones and go to the Indian reservation. I drove until I saw rides offered by the Miccosukee tribe, and I pulled over and asked if they would accommodate Ella. They said sure. Our pilot, named Wilder, was probably mid-20s. “Be careful what you name your children,” he said. He was from the Miccosukee tribe and was immensely proud of his ancestry and of his job. You could tell it was a treat for him to take folks for a ride and teach them about the area and his family. He toured Ella and me through the marshlands for about 40 minutes and took us to an island that was maybe a foot-and-a-half above sea level. There was a boardwalk that covered the island to keep tourists from falling through the holes because the islands are not solid. He said there are a hundred islands just like this in this area. His grandfather lived on this land. In fact, we met an 80-year-old mama alligator who was friends with Wilder and his family since he was a boy. He said she had several babies during his lifetime, but now she was old and mostly deaf. He would call to her, “Ma – ma – come,” but she didn’t pay any attention to him. He said many times she’d come right up to him and want to be petted, just like a dog. Gators don’t attack people, he explained, but dogs are another thing altogether. She would definitely eat Ella if she was hungry.
The three of us got back on the airboat and loudly maneuvered back through the glades and water lilies, through the herons with their feasting and resting, as Wilder returned us to our starting point. He had a way of doing the water version of drifting – we would be moving forward but facing sidewards, trekking over the glades with the wide expanse of sky straight ahead and up above. To be right out in the middle of the glades, watching the heron finding fish, was moving. It was without a doubt one of the greatest experiences I will ever have. I was so thankful and appreciative to be out there, right in the midst of one of Earth’s most protected places.
I’ve never been much of a camper or outdoorsperson. This lifestyle is new to me. I knew I would need some pretty good self-training, so on my second practice trip I tried my hand at a number of different ways to camp – a national forest or two, state parks, a Hipcamp, beach camping, using my ground tent and my rooftop tent.
In November 2021, I loaded up my car with everything I thought I would need when I went on the road and wouldn’t have a home to come home to. For our first stop, I used my Free Camping app to find a hunter’s camp in the Talladega National Forest. Hollins Hunter Camp had no amenities except a fire ring. The area was woodsy and beautiful, with a flat, cleared area to pitch a tent. It took about an hour to setup camp – I set up my rooftop tent (RTT) and Ella’s tent first, and worked deliberately, learning the best, most proficient ways to setup my gear. It’s a lot of work.
I was finally settled in and ready for a quick supper – some leftover chicken and some yogurt – and a fella drives through my camp in an old pickup. He’s about 75-80 years old and stops for a chat. He turns off his engine but stays in the car. He is the only person I’ve seen all day, and it’s dusk and chilly. I say it was great to meet him, and gently signal that I am ready to sit down and eat my supper in the peace and solitude I came to purposefully enjoy. He continues to talk. In his warm, friendly, Southern drawl, he tells me about his family. His daughter is a nurse, his son works at the farmer’s market, his grandson is in college. He is out here because he wanted to get away from the house for a spell. He tells me about buying his truck, hunting in these here parts, hands me a map of the area, and explains about the coyotes I will most definitely be hearing tonight because of a big hunt this afternoon. After a bit, there is a lull in the conversation, and I tell him again how great it was to meet him, and blessedly he turns on his engine. I’m not sure what signal I sent at that point because I was awfully relieved he was going to leave me to my supper, but he turned off his engine again and started in on another conversation. He wanted to know who my people were, where they were from – the typical Southern convo. I gave as little info as possible while still trying to sound gracious. After what seemed like an impossibly long time to have a conversation without saying anything, he gave his farewells and turned his truck around and left for home.
Camping at Hollins Hunter Camp
It dropped to 36 F that night, and Ella slept outside in her tent. I was bundled up in a hat, gloves, a head band to cover my ears, and blankets on top of my sleeping bag so I could cover my head. The morning sunrise was beautiful, pinks and yellows peeking through the forest trees. The air was crisp and clear. Ella and I went for a walk first thing to get a lay of the land and orient ourselves. We never saw another person, although we saw a truck parked in another campsite – hunters no doubt. Back at the campsite, we had breakfast and cleaned up. I decided to pack up and we headed to Cheaha.
View from Mount Cheaha
We hiked all through Cheaha, but I wasn’t quite sure where we would spend the night yet. I wasn’t crazy about spending it in the state park which was full of RVs and families. That’s not a bad thing by any means, but I knew I needed more practice in the wilderness. After a full day of hiking, I asked the park personnel if there were a more primitive campground. There was – the Civilian Conservation Corps campsite. Ella and I paid for the night and set off in the car the ten or so miles away to the most primitive site. There was a latrine, and supposedly a working water pump. Each campsite had a fire ring and a flattened, gravel area for a tent. We chose the farthest back campsite and were the only ones in the campground that night. It was beautiful in its isolation. I built a fire and had a peanut butter sandwich and fruit for supper. I slept in my RTT, and Ella slept in her tent on the ground again. It was not as cold, but still very chilly. In the morning we hiked again before breakfast and then broke camp.
Ella sleeping in her tent on a very chilly night
I made a few videos about campgrounds you pay for versus free campsites, about pooping and peeing in the woods, and about my camping food. I’m not particularly fond of cooking at home. I do it, but it’s purely out of necessity and not out of a passion for the act of creating food. It turns out, I hate fixing food in the wild too. It takes SO much time, so much cleanup, and uses so many resources that I try to conserve, like water and propane. I make coffee in the morning after our walk, and beyond that, I usually eat cheese and crackers, yogurt, fruit, maybe some cereal. It all suits me just fine.
After packing up, we headed off to Bankhead Forest for the night. I found a horse camp on my Free Campsites app that had a small fee – $5 per night – and was used as a basecamp for trail riders. Again, I was the only one there. Ella and I were settled in for the night, and I was fast asleep when around midnight Ella woke me up barking. I keep her tethered to the car with a long cable, so she can go in and out of her tent freely but must stay close. This night she was awakened by something in the middle of the night that had her very aggravated. She barked aggressively and jolted me out of my sleep, and then really jolted me when she took off at top speed and snapped her harness that was attached to her tether. Nearly panicked, I grabbed a flashlight and quickly put on my shoes, still in a fog, wondering what the heck was going on. I was spooked for sure.
I shone the flashlight all around and never did see anything out of the ordinary. I caught a glimpse of her running in the distance every now and then, but she was not even about to come to me. She was wild and free in the moonlight. I took a walk around and tried to settle my nerves. I am convinced she was tempted by a prey animal – an armadillo, or raccoon, or a deer.
As I was looking around with my flashlight, I kept seeing these sparkles everywhere. Really out-of-place, small, sparkly things attached to the trees and grass. During that evening while I was fixing my supper, I noticed a sparkly in the grass and thought a child must have lost a rhinestone from a hairclip or some such. I investigated with a flashlight and found a small hole in the ground where the sparkle reflected off my light. It was pretty neat, but I wasn’t about to go fishing around in a hole in the ground to find out what it was. I didn’t give it much thought until I’m standing in this wooded area in the dark, in the middle of the night, surrounded by sparklies on the trees. I shined my flashlight on the tree and saw a dozen spiders, pretty large with little sparkly eyes peering back at me. It was fascinating! I looked closer and closer, my heartbeat already racing, but now stimulated by a bit more adrenaline, hoping these spiders weren’t jumpers. Turns out, it’s a wolf spider who indeed has a sparkly eye, and sometimes when the mama carries her babies on her back, her whole back becomes sparkly with a hundred baby sparkly eyes. Truly mesmerizing!
The sparkly wolf spider. Photo credit: Bamshki
The next morning Ella was back in her tent, snoozing the morning away. We set off for our morning hike. We traveled down a dirt road, and several miles in we found a trail off to the side with a sign that said “Camp” nailed to a tree. As it seemed to be a horse trail that led to a horse camp, I decided to take it, assuming the camp was the one where we were staying. My philosophy about taking trails when I don’t have a map with me is that once the trail starts not looking well-trodden or forks in any direction, I’ll double back rather than risk getting lost in the woods alone. This was certainly a well-trodden horse trail, with the dirt churned up and muddy, with old, hardened, horse apples dotting the path. But there were a lot of obstacles as well. A stream to cross, lots of fallen trees, some wash-outs, and work-arounds. It was several miles long with fun changes in elevation, and the fall leaves covered the ground like a carpet. We were walking so long that I started to doubt that I knew where we were going. Maybe it would be wiser at this point to turn around and retrace our steps than to hope we would end up at our camp. I kept going. After a long time, we finally made it to the camp, and it just so happened that it was our very campsite, so the Subaru and RTT were the first things we saw when we crested the edge of the forest. A pretty great morning.
We had breakfast and broke camp and headed to Oak Mountain State Park. Oak Mountain is very much a family-oriented RV park with some primitive campsites, so we were surrounded by RVs with their bicycles, kayaks, ATVs, and all the outdoorsy, family-fun equipment. We were also surrounded by family sounds like children crying, TVs blaring, chainsaws burring. It was around $25 a night and included water, bathrooms with showers, trash service, and picnic tables. Because I knew the park was big and I would want to drive around, I set up my ground tent this time. It took a lot of work and effort to carry all the gear to the campsite and set it up. I really appreciated my RTT at that moment.
I guess I’ll take the small tent
The next morning, Ella and I set off for a walk first, but then took a scenic drive in the park to hike some trails with overlooks. It was gorgeous despite the rain that began to fall. We wore ourselves out and went back to the campsite for supper. I cooked this night. I made rice, beans, broccoli, and tomatoes. It was delicious, and I was super hungry so was glad to have more than just snacks. But then it was time to clean up. I was tired, most our gear was wet, and I really didn’t want to wash dishes. But I did, then we headed to bed. Ella slept with me and kept me cozy in the cold night’s air. It was 36 F again that night.
We woke up, walked, had coffee, and broke camp. Everything was still wet from the day before’s rain though, so I strung up some clotheslines between the trees to dry out our gear. It took much longer to break camp since we had all the ground gear – the tarp, the tents, the flies, the carry cases, the sleeping bag and mat, all had to be cleaned, dried and carefully rolled, to make sure it’s useful for the next time it’s needed.
Ella and I drove to Montgomery because I had some business to finish up regarding the sale of my father’s house and estate. I dropped Ella off to be boarded, and I went on to a hotel for a hot shower and to do some laundry. The next morning, I stopped by the house to see how the estate sale staging was coming along, then picked up Ella and headed off to New Orleans.
I was scheduled to meetup with some online forum friends in New Orleans and had scheduled a funky campsite using the Hipcamp app. My trip into NO was already remarkable because I was traveling through a really industrial and not-very-well-kept part of the city. I knew I was close because I was only minutes away according to my GPS, but I couldn’t believe there was actually a campsite in this part of town. It definitely didn’t look safe. Or clean. Or campsite-ish. The roads weren’t marked very well, not to mention they were in horrible shape, maybe left over from Katrina or other massive amounts of flood waters that this town sees year after year. I was passing by parts of town that were literal dump-sites. Under an overpass there were sofas and mattresses, bags of trash and tons of debris, just toppled from the heights above. Was this really where I was staying? If so, I would turn around and stay in a hotel in a heartbeat. I kept going.
I came up to a blue-painted steel bridge of sorts with a stop light. It really didn’t look like it went anywhere. I’m embarrassed that I couldn’t figure it out, but the whole scenario just seemed surreal. I wasn’t even sure I was on a legitimate road since there was a red light with no cross-traffic, and I was the only one around. So odd. I wondered if I should back up and backtrack, maybe I had misread the GPS. Soon enough, some traffic started to back up behind me and I was relieved to figure this was a legitimate passage, and I wasn’t waiting at some perpetual twilight zone red light. Then, as if to answer all my questions, a barge appeared on the river crossing under the bridge, which as I looked closer, was raised for passage. It wasn’t like the draw bridges that are raised on hinges forming an A – the only type I’m familiar with – but the whole center span of the bridge was elevated using an enormous pully system. Once the barge passed, the bridge lowered. It took a very long time.
Once across the river, I was only a mile away from my campsite. I thought the landscape would surely change and open up to a normal camping area. It did not. GPS directed me through a neighborhood, a kitschy one at that, but definitely not a camping area. I arrived at the destination, a corner lot fenced in by a brightly painted, fanciful fence – sky blue and purple with a yellow sun, a pink cartoon pig, and a sign that read “clothing optional beyond this point.”
Funky campsite in NOLA from Hipcamp app
I called the camp director, James, and he said he’d be there in about 20 minutes, just go in and make myself at home. I opened the double gate and was greeted by a cute pit bull who immediately tried to mount Ella. She was not pleased. A fella named Jacques then greeted me. He was the dog’s owner and lived on the property, which as it turns out is a commune of sorts. There is a home on stilts (because river) and several campers and sheds within eyeshot. There’s an overgrown garden and a carport with tons of outdoor gear – kayaks, skiffs, bicycles, motorcycles, and all the spare parts to match. There is an outhouse painted purple (for Number 2 only; find anywhere you can on the property for Number 1). The shower is by the chicken coop and is an outdoor wooden shed with an attached hose pipe. There is artistic flair everywhere.
I knew I liked the place right away. The vibe was cool. The artwork was funky. Jacques was who you imagine in this scenario. He was tall and thin, maybe creole looking, tattooed and pierced, with long green braids and painted nails. Effeminate, trusting, kind. He showed me around, and I set up my roof top tent in the driveway.
The camp director was the homeowner, and I never got a feel for what he did or who he was. He made friends easily, I know that. In the 20 minutes I waited for him, five different people came looking for him. I was pretty sure he was a dealer, but maybe not. All the folks were on bikes or had outdoor gear in their car. One fella said he would wait for him, so I struck up a convo with him. He said he was in the Coast Guard, just recently stationed in NO. He met James the night before and James invited him to come chill by the campfire.
That night, I spent the evening with my friends in NO and left Ella in the care of James and company. She spent the night by the fire ring with her new friends, scarfing bits of kielbasa tossed her way. I didn’t stay more than one night there, so my curiosity about James, Jacques, the numerous other campers, and motley crew of acquaintances was never satisfied. I’ll go back though, if given the opportunity. It was way fun.
When I got back to the campsite after the night with my friends, Ella was stuck in the overgrown garden. She had wrapped her tether around every upright, dead stick she could and was crouched amid the sharp, broken, brown vegetation, stuck and unable to move. Poor baby. She had scratched her eye on something and had a big ol’ shiner. She was miserable. As soon as I freed her, she ran to her side of the car. I opened the door, and she jumped in and slept inside the car that night, her safe place. She was much happier in the morning.
The following morning, we folded up and headed out. The night was so muggy, warm, and humid, that the fly of my RTT sweated so much it looked like rain. I didn’t have time to let it dry out, so I put it away wet. Really wet.
I drove to Galveston, TX, about 5-6 hours or so. Free camping is permitted on the beach on Bolivar Peninsula. On Sunday when I got there, there were quite a few campers and RVs from the weekend. By Monday morning they had pretty much disappeared, and by Tuesday campers were sparse. They started to show back up for the Thanksgiving holiday, though.
Camping on Galveston Beach
Bolivar Peninsula is great. There aren’t many homes nearby and you can drive right on the beach. The sand is packed tightly and there is just enough room before the dunes to create a really nice, wide, dispersed space for a campsite. There are latrines on the beach, which I normally would steer clear of, but since there was no privacy, I had to use them. People were pretty respectful to keep them as tidy as could be.
Camping on the beach is a different animal altogether, and I spent 3-4 days there. Once I found the spot I wanted to setup camp, I opened my RTT and let it dry in the gulf breeze. There was a continuous breeze, sometimes downright blustery, the whole time I was there. It was pretty cool too. There was a big storm that came through the first night, and the wind shook the tent and car and made a wild racket. I didn’t get much sleep at all that night. Ella decided her favorite place to sleep while camping is in the car, and after the night at the horse camp, I agree. She is much happier and warmer on her bed in the backseat. I am much happier when she isn’t barking at and chasing every moving thing in the middle of the night.
Ella and I spent our time at the beach walking for miles along the coastline. I never did any cooking, not even coffee, because of the wind. Listening to waves and watching the surf have hypnotic, relaxing effects. The sunsets and sunrises were very peaceful. Families would come and go, fishing, playing in the water, building sandcastles. The sea birds were a constant force of motion, trotting in and out with the waves, diving for fish, and teasing each other. Pelicans flew overhead. Occasionally a heron would join the fun.
A couple, Vipool and Sarah, introduced themselves while on a walk. I visited them several times over the next several days. She was very knowledgeable about social media, vlogging, YouTube and SEO. She had a lot of insight into how I should go about my videos. They had decided to do what so many have done during the pandemic – sell everything and hit the road. They restored a vintage camper and now spend their days working right on the beach, or anywhere else they want to go! They were super interesting and a lot of fun to visit with.
The guys camping next to me were both down on their luck and had randomly come across each other there at the beach. One had lots of food but no way to cook it; the other had all the cooking gear but no food. Neither had any money until their next paycheck so they pooled their resources and setup camp together, strangers bonding through adversity. They had an ingenious way to build a fire in the wind though. They dug out an embankment in the sand with a deep pocket and high sides and found some driftwood to burn. They were able to keep a fire going, which seemed miraculous to me.
Chilly on the beach
Camping on the beach has its charms but also has its detractions. The sand, wind, cold, sand, and sand get old after a while. All-in-all though, breaking camp wasn’t nearly as much of a bummer as I thought it would be. I used a brush to clean all the sand I could off everything, and because it was so windy, I hadn’t unpacked much gear. On Weds morning, I packed up and set off for an Airbnb in Fredericksburg, TX, a seven-hour drive or so. Ella and I got there around 4 pm with just time enough to shower and relax with a glass of wine before my family joined me for the Thanksgiving holiday.
I felt triumphant after this several-week-long camping episode. I was confident I had the resources and skills to make my National Park dream trip work. Look out, world, here we come!
Big life decisions often accompany cataclysmic events. I decided to sell my house and everything in it when my father died, and I hit the road with my trusty dog Ella to visit all the National Parks I could. Before embarking on the actual trip, I knew I needed practice to be sure that I had all the appropriate gear and that my routines and my funds would be sustainable. I took two extended trips to accomplish this. The first was a trip to the west coast and back, and the second was a series of camping trips in the Southeast.
In August 2021, I took off for Texas and California to deliver furniture and keepsakes from my father’s estate to my two sisters. I bought a hitch for my Subaru and rented a Uhaul trailer. I loaded up the trailer with boxes, furniture, and sundries, and loaded my car with camping equipment. With Ella in the backseat, we headed out with all good intentions. On the road, I was suddenly reminded I’m not a mover. The trailer wasn’t loaded particularly well, so along the way it was bumping and jumping on the hitch and making a loud racket. I thought I might lose it, but it hung in there. I had a bad experience in college where a trailer jumped off the ball in the middle of Atlanta traffic, and I was starting to have flashbacks. The ride was shaping up to be a little on the stressful side already.
I left much later than intended. Originally, I had planned to camp in Slidell, LA, on the way, but since the sun was already going down by the time I was half-way there, I decided to drive the whole way through to my sister’s in TX. No big deal. It’s a 10–12-hour drive, but I had no time restrictions and no one else to appease. As long as Ella would hold up, I knew I could hold up. No worries.
Around midnight, I was passing through Pearl, MS, and noticed a regional airport sign. It seemed to make sense that I heard a helicopter above me. It didn’t quite register how odd a helicopter would be at midnight, or how odd it was that the sound was getting louder and louder. Lordy, in fact it was so loud I thought it must be right overhead. It took a few more moments for me to realize it wasn’t a helicopter at all – it was a flat tire. My Subie had picked up a screw and the tire shredded to pieces, right there on the Interstate. Did I mention it was the middle of the night?
Notice the 0 in the top right of the PSI gauge
I have roadside assistance, so I hit them up, and they were very responsive. The thing about roadside assistance, though, is you likely just woke up the repairman from his comfy slumber, or he may have a list of other unfortunate customers before you. Or both. You never really know. Either way, you can expect to wait. For hours. So, Ella and I waited patiently on the side of the road in the dark listening to the whoosh of traffic as it passed us, each car buffeting us as it went. In about an hour and a half or so, the repairman showed up.
To get to my spare donut tire in the back, I had to unload all my gear, right there on the side of the highway, in the dark. Ella was on a leash and wanted to explore, wondering why she couldn’t track down every intriguing scent. It was inconvenient, to say the least. Then, once the tire was changed, I had the flat, full-size tire to carry with me to a tire store. It wouldn’t fit back in the car because the compartment was too small for it, but fortunately I had the Uhaul trailer, so we stashed it in there.
Now, where to stay? I couldn’t go more than 50 miles or 50 mph on the baby spare, so I had to overnight somewhere there in MS. I checked my Free Campsites app, mostly used by RV’ers looking for a place to overnight, and found a Cracker Barrel nearby. My first night on my wild, adventurous, see-all-the-wonders-of-America-tour was spent under the streetlight in a Cracker Barrel parking lot. It was as romantic as it sounds. My car was so full I couldn’t lean the seat back, so I battled the steering wheel with my knees all night long. It was so hot – MS in the summer – that I couldn’t roll down the windows for the cloying heat, humidity, and mosquitos. I would crank the engine and run the air conditioner every 30 minutes to an hour, whenever I heard Ella start to pant in the backseat. I was feeling super adventurous.
Waking up under the Cracker Barrel sign
At daybreak we headed to the nearest tire store, and Ella and I roamed the area while the tire was replaced. It was swelteringly hot, and the sun was brutal. I thought, this is the kind of practice we need! Not really what I had in mind, but more than likely what we will encounter on the real trip, so get used to it! All-in-all, it took a little over 3-4 hours for the car to be repaired, and we set out again for Killeen, TX. We made it just in time as my sissie got off work, so much rejoicing ensued. Ella and I stayed with her for a few days, and the visit was refreshing and fun.
After a few days, we get back on the road and continued our drive of the continent-sized Texas. I tried to drive as far as I could before looking for a free campsite. My mantra is ALWAYS FILL UP THE GAS TANK WHEN IT’S HALF FULL, and ALWAYS PITCH YOUR TENT WHEN IT’S LIGHT. Such wise advice to myself I repeated over and over, congratulating myself on my good common sense. Unfortunately, apparently I’m not a great listener. That night, I kept challenging myself to drive 20 more miles before looking for a campsite. This is why:
While I was driving, I was super enjoying the scenery. It was gorgeous. I was well into NM and the mountains in the distance were in perfect juxtaposition to the broad, flat deserts full of cactus and scrubs. Not only that, but the sky was magnificent. The sun was setting, and the colors were vivid and rapidly changing from pink to orange to red. There were numerous storms on the horizon, so I watched them evolve from light blue showers to deep purple downpours, all in the distance, so just a feast for the eyes. The sun was setting right in front of me as I traveled west, and it was casting a golden glow on the cumulous and cirrus clouds that crowned the mountains. The sky was bright pink, the sun neon orange, the clouds various shades of blue with shiny, golden edges. It was an amazing sight, and I just didn’t want it to end.
I did finally stop for the night, but it was well after dark. It was windy, too, because of all the storms around, so putting up my ground tent was a bit of a challenge. The wind made the fly tricky, so I weighed the odds of rain. There were storms all around, but above me was wide open, clear sky. I decided to chance it. Ella crawled in the tent with me, and right above me, through the dome screen was the bright, white moon peeking from behind a large tree with leggy branches. The breeze was fresh and cool, very relaxing. It was a magical night.
The next morning, we headed out early with the plan to stop and camp in CA if needed. The drive was easy, so we kept on trucking. I was approaching the craggy, brutal mountains at the border of AZ and CA that create a remarkable transition into the state. I was on half-full, so I knew I should stop for gas soon, but I kept thinking, CA is super populated, so I’m sure it won’t be difficult to find a gas station as soon as I cross the mountains. It was 120 F, and Ella’s feet burned every time we stopped, so I wanted to power through.
Spoiler alert: CA is super populated on the coast – not inland. And inland lasts for a really long time before you get to the coast. There were no gas stations. I sweated bullets wondering if I was going to have to call roadside assistance again, especially since cell service was spotty at best. It wasn’t the first time I stretched the limits of my gas tank on this trip. In Dallas, during 5:00 traffic, I took a look at my gas gauge for the first time in apparently a very long time because it was on empty. I scrolled my info button to see how many gallons I had before empty. It said 0. To say I started a mild panic might be an understatement. I moved my car and trailer to the far-right lane and slowed to about 50, thinking roadside assistance is my number one on speed-dial right now. And you might think that a city as large as Dallas would have lots of gas stations just right off the freeway. Me too. But that’s not the case. I took a random exit and had to drive several miles through back roads before coming across the only gas station in Dallas apparently. I know it was the only gas station because everyone and their brother was there to get gas. There were only four pumps, and each one had a line. By the time I navigated my Uhaul-towing-butt up to the pump, my car was gasping for life. You might think that experience would drive home the mantra I kept repeating to myself about never letting the car fall below half-full. I love your optimism.
Bottom line, I never did run out of gas. But I sure made myself sweat more than a few times.
The desert terrain from east TX, to NM, to AZ, to CA is gorgeous. Miles and miles of nothing but cactus and sand, but somehow a great variety in all of it. The rock formations, mountains, and churned up dirt created an ever-changing landscape, and the plant life was just as variable. Being from the Southeast US, I thought the cactus, trees, and shrubs looked foreign and exotic or maybe like Dr. Seuss creations. I couldn’t take my eyes off the scenery.
Reaching the coast of southern CA was just as exotic. The hills rolled with trees and different rock formations that were a feast for the eyes. The traffic told the tale: this place is where people want to be. So many people! The weather is perfect, 70s with a cool, constant breeze, and the topography is gorgeous. Ella and I made it to my sister’s with the Uhaul intact, and I stayed there for a few days, enjoying walking on the beach, visiting parks, and taking a few short hikes. It was a glorious visit.
San Diego sunset
While in SD, I bought a rooftop tent (RTT). There is a lot of dissension in the camping community between favorite tent types. You’d think folks wouldn’t care about each other’s camping styles because live and let live, but everyone’s got opinions. Some folks swear by the RTTs, and others say they are overrated, not true camping, not worth the price. I love mine. But it did take me a long time to get good at setting it up and taking it down on the first try. Way longer than I thought it should. But now that I have a good bit of practice under my belt, I love it.
The first time I used it was on the way back from CA. I had just spent the night at my niece’s house in AZ, and she warned me it was monsoon season. There were lots of monsoons around, so be careful driving. I had seen them on the way out and agreed they looked formidable, but I’m from the Deep South where we have no shortage of extreme storms. I wasn’t worried. I did drive through some horrific storms, dropping speed to about 30 or less on the Interstate and watching the blurry taillights in front of me for clues as to the road conditions ahead. After making it through the worst, I started looking for a campsite, and found one in west TX right on a small lake. It was peaceful and private, although I could hear people across the lake enjoying their evening. The campsite had a table and a fire ring, but no other amenities. The night was just like the one I experienced in NM – breezy, storms in the distance, clear overhead. I set up Ella’s tent on the ground and crawled up to my new RTT. Somewhere around midnight, Ella started to whine. She was fretful, and that’s not normal for her. I went out to check on her and heard thunder in the distance. As I looked up, the sky was overcast, and it looked like rain, maybe even a storm, was imminent. I zipped up my tent, and Ella and I jumped inside the Subaru to weather the lightning and thunder, never her favorite. Well. It was a doozy. The wind whipped the car around, and the rains didn’t let up. For hours we watched the monsoon dump water on the windshield as the wind swept the water away in blurry waves. Occasionally we dozed in the car.
At daybreak I was anxious to see how my tent fared in the weather. To my delight it was dry and cozy. However, what I had not thought about was the terrain. We drove in on dry dirt. That dirt had become thick, mucky clay by the morning. All over Ella, all over my shoes and our gear, all over my tires. Once the car was loaded, I did my valiant best to extract it from the muddy campsite. Thank goodness for Subaru’s all-wheel drive. Again, I thought about the call that I might have to make to roadside assistance and the spotty cell service that may or may not make that call possible. I was successful after a few fishtails in the mud. We were back on the road, ready to stop at my sister’s again in TX on the way back. We had another great, refreshing stay with her and got back on the road for the final leg of the journey.
Ella and I were on the Interstate from TX to AL for all of about five minutes when I had another flat tire. Another call to USAA roadside assistance, another repairman dispatched to my vehicle, another struggle to empty and reload the car to get to the donut, but this time the flat, full-sized tire had to go in the trunk with all the rest of my gear. We made it to a tire store, had the flat fixed, and were back on the road by Noon. I knew without a shadow of a doubt, no matter what other gear I got for my car, I had to get a full-sized spare and a tire carrier with all the tools and equipment to make my own repairs in case this happened to me when I was out of cell phone range. Also, I knew I needed a form of satellite communication in case my cell phone didn’t work.
It was a great practice trip, more for the distance and experience in desolate areas than for the actual camping. That was ok. There would be plenty of time for that. Once home, I started to research all the recovery gear I might need for my car. I watched YouTubers, read blogs, joined forums, and I’m now reasonably sure I could take care of my car, my dog, and myself if I got stuck somewhere.
A few things I learned along the way, besides the tire, gas, and get-to-the-campsite-before-dark lessons, were about practical routines. I needed to find a way to keep plenty of water since many free campsites don’t have water; ice in a cooler is for the birds because you have to change it constantly, especially in the southern heat; and everything in the car must be well-organized and at-hand at all times. Systems are the key. Making sure I always put things back where I know I will find them, especially chargers, flashlights, and Ella’s leash and water bowl, must take precedence over the ease of just setting something down or stashing it in the nearest hidey-hole. To that end, I have created several hidey-holes in my car for specific things: maps, glasses, a hat, Chapstick, chargers, etc. All things that are always where they need to be when I need to find them in a hurry.
New swing-away, full-size tire carrier!
One of the best things I learned is what a great traveling companion Ella is! I had not traveled much with her before, so I didn’t know her car habits. She is a great passenger. She is eager to explore everywhere we go, and she is great company. She mostly sleeps inside the car, but she has a tent to use as a kennel when she wants. She is my constant source of love and laughs. And her snuggles are super great.
