Moving On

 

 

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Yolie took this shot of me while we were hiking down from the Coyote Mountains overlooking our campsite in Anza Borrego. I kind of love it.

 

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We spent Christmas eve rocking and rolling in our little aluminum boat- the winds were howling and buffeting  us all night long. It was like being back on our sailboat. I thought we’d blow all the way to Mexico by morning. It wasn’t that bad. When I got up at six I found Yolie’s shoes just twenty or thirty feet away in a little arroyo, along with Lucy’s food bowl and one of our gallons of water. It took a lot longer to find my flip-flops!d

We got up and packed up in the morning. The first Christmas morning we’ve had with no toys, no tree, no shopping, no opening, no stockings, no nothing. It was glorious! I tngexted a bunch of friends and we made some calls home to family, but that was it. Best Christmas ever.

And it was, really. It was relaxing and happy and totally free from anxiety, stress, worry, and overwhelm. We were where we wanted to be, doing what we wanted to be doing. I was outside just marveling at our beautiful Airstream trailer and our badass Sportsmobile van out in the desert with the glorious desert sunrise all around us, everything scoured clean and vibrant, and the open road in front of us with no end in sight.

A good Christmas indeed.

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We drove to Yuma and got a spot in a campground with full hook ups. We took long, hot showers that went on and on. We soaked in the hot tubs and turned on all our lights and tomorrow we’ll do laundry. Also we’re going in to Los Algodones Mexico so I can see a doctor for this sinus infection. Maybe we’ll get our teeth cleaned, too! And boob jobs.

We just keep meeting the nicest people. Couples and families doing what we’ve done and really loving it. We all feel like we’ve stumbled upon some kind of strange open secret that no one else has figured out yet. So far everyone has been sweet and open and kind. Everyone seems way too happy. It isn’t like meeting normal people. Of course I’m probably romanticizing it, but it seems pretty nice so far.

We drove all over Yuma looking for a place for some food, but being Christmas day the pickings were slim. We ended up at this place- well, it’s impossible to do justice to it. Yuma Landing Grill. Imagine old desert folks teetering in on walkers for their Christmas dinner. I think there were three things on the menu. I got the rack of ribs and I about died. They were fantastic and there was about two pigs worth on the plate. We had a good dinner.

On our way out these gaggle of old ladies were making their way out to their car, one older gal being supported by another, somewhat younger gal. The older gal, a few steps in front of us, started this slow-motion keel over. I thought the younger gal would catch her, but the old gal knocked her over like a bowling pin and they both went down. Yolie and I jumped in and got them all sorted just as the other old lady pulled up in the car, her passenger door wide open and swinging in the wind.

If they all made it home that’s a Christmas miracle for the ages.

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There’s so much good and wonderful about this new life. There’s a lot that’s more difficult, too. But I like it, at least for now I do. I like that you can’t take everything for granted, and that I have to pay attention to the details, to monitor and mend and tend to everything to keep it going. I like being in direct connection with the weather and the world, the night sky and the dawn, the wind and the heat and the rain. I like the solitude and I like the occasional company. I like the way we have to learn the grocery store layout and we can’t get the same bread everywhere, or the same coffee, or whatever.

It feels like coming alive again after a long dormancy.

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Namaste, friends, and Merry Christmas to you all.

 

 

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