Everything Really is Bigger in Texas
We’ve been driving all day and we’re tired. Exhausted really. And I miss my damn friend more than I want to admit. I debate often about turning the van around just to be with her. I’ve been pretty close to breaking and on this particular day, multiple messages are coming through that are putting me on edge. It’s getting close to dark when I get a message that I need to send a photo release. Texas’ service is spotty and I need to sign it but I can’t do much until we reach camp. Once we do, Jason and I stress for an hour about sending this damn document. When it finally sends, I learn it was most likely for nothing. It’s at that moment, I crawl into bed, and begin to sob into my pillow. Jason tries to comfort me but I soon notice another cosmetic issue with the van, and since I’m too tired to be angry, I just cry myself to sleep.
I wake in the morning sadder than the night before. My dead friend Eric was in my dream and I never seem to recover well knowing that it wasn’t real; knowing he’s never coming back. I’m still upset and flustered from the day before so we pack up and leave as soon as possible. As service begins to come back, I’m angry with the abundance of “you have the most amazing life” comments I’m receiving. Don’t they know I cried all night? Don’t they know my best friend’s Dad is dying and I’m not fucking there? But they don’t and even as I type this now, wonder if they should. Life isn’t all adventures and pretty pictures so I make sure to remind them of that without saying too much. Amanda’s story isn’t mine to tell. And I’m sick of talking about my demons.
As the day goes on, the blue sky and long drive begins to improve my mood. Besides, Texas is too pretty and I’m only here once. Our campsite for the night is in the middle of the desert and we spend a half an hour off roading to get there. We’re isolated but there’s two RVS near by so not alone. Jason makes pizza from a recipe in The Camp Cookbook and it’s so fucking delicious that honestly I’m impressed. The sun begins to set so I strip down to nothing, lay in bed, and stare off into the desert. As darkness sets in, heat lightning begins to occur just beyond the mountains. Fascinated by the strikes, I sit in the driver seat, bare bottom against the vinyl, and roll my window down to watch as Jason stands outside. Soon enough the stars appear and even though I’m scared, I want to photograph them.
It’s strange being afraid of the dark when you’ve been engulfed in it most of your life. But maybe it’s more the unknown that awaits in what I cannot see. Either way, as we stood in the desert in the middle of the night, isolated, and not able to see any of our surroundings, I still felt the fear. But I stayed and embraced it as we watched the lightning over the mountains and looked up at the stars, while photographing the Milky Way. There are so many times in my life I’ve been afraid and did it anyway. I think that’s how you’re supposed to live.
The next morning, we make our way back to the highway. Annoyed by the half hour’s time, I remind myself of the beauty we saw last night and hold on to that instead. Surrounded by rocks of all colors, sizes, and formations, a vulture flies above and I smile thinking “how Texas”. The rock formations are incredible, and I wish my camera could show the magnitude of their size. It’s something you’ll have to see yourself one day. Trust me, it’ll be worth your time. As I continue to gaze upon them, I imagine rock climbers reaching the top. And so I begin to long for the day when I can call myself one. I guess that’s why my heart calls for the West. I know the person I want to be and I’m hoping I can find her out here. Because I think it might be who I was meant to be all along.
On our way to the National Park, Jason and I visit Terlingua Ghost Town even though that’s far from what it is. The streets are filled with cars and almost every building appears open. But it’s still an interesting place to visit. We make sure to pay our respects to the dead before we leave. While visiting Big Bend, we stop at almost every look out and just cannot comprehend the scale of it all. “Woah” becomes our word of the day. We gaze upon the Santa Elena Canyon and say hi to Mexico, as we touch the Rio Grande. The temperature sky rockets throughout the afternoon. 106°, 109°, and by 3:09 PM it hits 113°. But Texas heat is different and there’s a reason they say that if you feel it, it’s too late. By early evening, we arrive at our campsite with plans to watch sunset. We drive up to the Ranger Station for service just to catch up on news but soon enough, the rain begins and our plans disappear. We end up spending three hours on our phones and laugh about it later.
We wake the next morning and spend some more time exploring Big Bend. We drive down to Boquillas Canyon and are once again amazed by the size. We walk towards the Rio Grande and right there in the river, a Mexican local is fishing while another swims. We wave and say hello and watch as a group of them hang around the river. Their arts and crafts are for sale so I purchase an embroidered mask and a handmade bracelet with the words “No Wall” and take a picture facing the Mexican border. I make sure to yell thank you and wave goodbye, wishing I could talk to them face to face. I dream of a day when borders no longer exist as we make our way to New Mexico.
Scenic Drives throughout North Carolina
The fog rolls through as it does in my head. It’s as hazy and heavy as the thoughts in my brain. I long to enjoy the drive we’re on but I’m clouded with the loss my friend may soon face. Tragedy arrives at the worse of times. I want her to feel safe and loved. But how can I do that when I’m not there? I drift off to sleep with hopes I’ll awaken to better news.
The smokies are beautiful and I’m in love with the fog. I want to build a house among the trees and dance in the rain. Jason and I spend the day in the park, driving through North Carolina, crossing over to Tennessee. We see three elk in a field and one by the river. It rains, and the sun shines but I’m happy either way. We make plans to stay for sunset and arrive at Morton Overlook, where the view is incredible. The golden light dances with the smoke while the road below peeks through the trees. And although it’s only us with one other person, soon enough, it’s crowded. Throughout the two hours we stay, people come and go, but we are always surrounded and the only two who wear masks. Eventually, the sun sinks deep into the mountains so we decide to make the long drive home.
The next day, Lex of La Viva Verde (the woman whose driveway we’re sleeping in) allows us to use her living room to work so we spend the day posting, editing, updating, and hating that our potential careers revolve around social media. But even in van life, every day can’t be a grand adventure. Once that’s finished, we make plans for the next part of our trip. With coronavirus cases rising in Texas, we need to be cautious and so our plans must change. We decide to skip Houston and Austin and only drive to Big Bend National Park. We’re flustered with the changes but without insurance, we know that our safety needs to be our number one priority.
As we finally finish our work, I head outside with Lex to photograph some of her ceramics. Lex and I sit in her front lawn, play in the grass, and talk about art. I enjoy our time together since it feels just like two friends hanging out, even though we only met a few days ago. Once we finish, I realize there’s enough time to see sunset so Jason and I leave to chase the light. As we drive along the Blue Ridge Parkway, we’re surrounded by the most magnificent views. Layers and layers of mountains drenched in gold. But instead of admiring such beauty, I’m lost in my thoughts. I text my friend to tell her how sorry I am that I’m not there when she needs me. With lack of service and an unsent text, I soon begin to cry as we drive up the mountain.
The next morning, we make our way to Hot Springs, North Carolina to hike Lover’s Leap. On our way, I get violently ill from what I can only assume is food poisoning but I feel better soon after. We hike to the top and we both agree we’ve seen better views, but nothing beats the fresh air so it’s fine. We drive to Max’s Patch with plans to hike the mountain for sunset. We’re surprised by how crowded it is but are able to find a spot away from most. We watch the sun go down and the mountains turn blue and are left in awe of how beautiful it all is. As we begin the hike down, we make a last minute decision to stay the night and hike back up for sunrise.
After a great night’s rest in the van, I wake right before our alarm and Jason and I dress in the same clothes as the day before. We hike in the dark, this time up the middle, which I don’t recommend. This hike is shorter but much more strenuous. After what I deem too long, we finally reach the top, and I am more than relieved. We find a patch of grass where deer had laid and wait to watch the sun rise above the mountains. I photograph the moon and the grass until the sun finally appears and drenches us in light. We stay awhile and just enjoy the moment until it’s time to hike back down.
Soon enough, we arrive back in Asheville and decide to spend our last afternoon downtown. I’m excited to finally be clean and wearing a dress but as we begin to walk around, I soon realize this may have been a mistake. My anxiety is heightened and I’m on edge with the lack of distance and masks. Jason and I do our best to keep space but many others do not. We decide not to stay long and avoid crowded areas.
Although I’ve never been, Asheville looks different than usual. Filled with boarded up stores, the words Black Lives Matter appear often, as well as paintings of the faces lost to police brutality. For those that don’t know, Asheville’s police destroyed water and medical supplies during one of their protests. I feel both proud and saddened by a town I hardly know. Although the protests in town have long quieted down to a small group of individuals, I long to be alongside them. As we pull away from Asheville, Jason and I honk in support as Black Lives Matter rings through the streets. We head towards Tennessee.
Lover’s Leap Legend, written in 1906 by Sally Royce Weir, is about a Cherokee chief named Lone Wolf, who ruled beside the Tahkiostie (French Broad) River. He wanted his daughter, Mist-On-The-Mountain, to marry a powerful but old brave named Tall Pine. One day, Mist-On-The-Mountain fell in love with Magwa, a handsome young visitor to her village. When her father refused Magwa’s marriage proposal, Mist-On-The-Mountain traveled to the foot of the towering rock to meet Magwa, when Tall Pine, who had followed them, struck and killed the younger man. Mist-On-The-Mountain ran, but Tall Pine cornered her on the high cliff, where she heard Magwa’s spirit call to her. She leaped into the river to join her lover, and moments later a panther struck and killed Tall Pine before he could escape the lurid scene.
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Reading my last two blogs, I realize I may not be the “best blogger”. I spit out truth instead of allowing it to hold weight in the back of my throat. My mind is all too consumed with the realities of this world which is both a blessing and a curse. In moments like these, I long to be a person who feels happiness like most. But I can’t force what isn’t there.
Virginia is for Lovers
It’s already 82 degrees as we’re driving down the parkway Saturday morning. My right ear hurts with a possible ear infection and I wonder if I made a mistake of not going to the doctor (again). My head is heavy with all that’s occurring in the country we call home. This isn’t the way it was supposed to be. These aren’t the words I was supposed to write. But in many ways, my life has always been this way. Accomplishments, celebrations, even new beginnings laced with chaos, hurt, and self destruction. But this time it’s different. For those of you who don’t know us personally, none of this makes sense. And I teeter totter on how much I long to share/explain. But I think it’s meant for another time.
We arrive at a farm in Rihnent, Virginia and are greeted by a tan, older woman named Emily. She’s wearing a pink cloth face mask and I can’t help but stare at her striking white hair and physique. She’s from New Mexico but moved here 9 months ago to live with her daughter, Kate, who moved from Vermont. The farm has 6 horses - a mix of event horses and rescues, one retired from racing. They’re friendly and beautiful but the black one in the second stall is absolutely stunning. After getting adjusted and scoping out where we’ll park the van, we head to Shenandoah National Park and decide to drive the bottom half of Skyline Drive. It’s surrounded by woods and the Blue Ridge Mountains so the drive itself is amazing. Around 6:30 PM, we notice the sky beginning to change and I wonder why so early since sunset isn’t until 8:30 PM. It’s around 8 when the golden light begins to pour among the trees so we decide to stay put at Crimora Lake Overlook and watch the sun go down. Off to our left, the mountains remind us of our time in Hawaii while the valley’s painted entirely gold. We’re in awe of the beauty and make sure to embrace it. It’s after 9 and the colors still show, but we’re tired so we head home.
For the first time, I actually sleep and awaken with an appreciation for my surroundings. Jason begins cooking eggs with avocado and cheese on our camp stove outside while I decide to use our outdoor shower. The water is cold since we didn’t leave it in the sun but after a few minutes, it’s refreshing and I’m happy. I get dressed, brush my hair, and smile as I say out loud, “this is amazing”. We eat our eggs, drink our tea, and coffee, pack up, and head to the park again. This time we drive from the top to the middle and although each overlook is more beautiful than the next, we’re honestly tired and a bit cranky from constantly getting in and out of the van. As the day comes to an end, we’re disappointed by the last overlooks. While most reveal mountain ranges and the valley below, the ones toward the end are less so. We leave before sunset and end up having our first fight on the road. But it doesn’t last long since we know what’s on each other’s minds.
The next morning, I’m tired from lack of sleep but we head to the park one last time to take in the views and film some video on our GoPro. We head to Luray Caverns and laugh about the tackiness of the outside. It looks like some crappy hotel but the caves are what matter and luckily, they don’t disappoint. We spend the tour amazed by nature and fascinated by it’s test of time. As we get ready to leave, I strip off my jeans and throw on my yellow dress. Jason and I share some granola bars, make our way towards the highway, and laugh about something as we head towards Asheville, North Carolina.
