Posted by: stacylynn12 | July 19, 2019

Back in Business

6 years ago I wrote a post called Travel Blogger Blues. Our sabbatical had been over for a year and I was looking at another 6 years before I’d have a “job” as a travel blogger again.  I did find a few occasions to blog… I wrote exactly 3 posts in those intervening 6 years.  But I’m happy to announce that as of right now, I’m back in business.

For those of you not in the loop, let me explain.  Randy has a job where every 7 years he is eligible to take a 1 year leave of absence from his job.  Us being us, well we are not a family to let that opportunity slip by.  If you’ve been reading along on this blog you’ll know that we’ve been planning for this next sabbatical basically since the day we got home from the last one. This week we took the plunge and put down cold cash in the form of plane tickets.  On November 28th we fly away.  Here’s the itinerary:


In the event you like to guess or you are a puzzle sort of person, you might enjoying trying to figure out what the hell I’m talking about.  If not, no fear… all will be revealed by the end of this post.

There’s a few things that are different this time around.  First and foremost our children have grown up and adopted opinions of their own.  When we departed on our last trip Bodhi was 6 and Josh was 3.  Now they are 14 and 11. They have friends they care about leaving, things they worry about missing and sports they want to participate in. (Please note, math and spelling are not on their list of concerns.)

Whereas last time I fretted immensely over Bodhi’s 1st grade homeschool plan, I have rather little stress about homeschooling 6th and 9th graders.  I guess I realized that fretting last time didn’t net us much.  I’ve spoken to both the middle and high school and they were unfazed by the idea that we were planning to take our kids out of school for a year.  Some online math, lots of reading, some writing and they’ll be fine.  We’ll have to manage credits for our high schooler but it’s completely doable.  We might even be able to wrangle him a credit of two from some of our adventures.

On our last sabbatical I had recently left my job in the non profit world to be a stay at home mom.  I had no job to walk away from.  I’d be bringing my “job” right along with me.  Now I run a Structural Medicine private practice and I feel a sense of obligation to my patients who trust me enough to include me in their health care plan.

In 2011, we got in our 86′ VW van and loaded it on a ferry boat to Alaska.  We had no plan beyond that.  We literally had NO idea where our year of travels would take us.  This was both thrilling and terrifying to me.  This time we have the year more or less mapped out.  We’ll be getting on a plane and flying away. We have a return ticket. Yet there is much to be determined still… a good compromise for the planner in me and the free spirit I married.

So where are we going?

Here it is!

YVR is Vancouver, British Columbia.  No, we aren’t really starting our trip there.  For some reason known only to the mysterious airline ticket pricing gods, it is far cheaper to fly out of Vancouver than Seattle. To almost anywhere. So we’ll be taking a train up to Vancouver to catch a flight to

SCL – Santiago, Chile.

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We’ll start our one month Patagonian journey just north of Patagonia proper.  We’ll travel overland taking buses and trains to wherever looks amazing and enticing and hopefully avoid the purported crowds along the way.  As climbers, Patagonia has always danced in our dreams as an enchanted land of alpine peaks and empty windswept endlessness. I don’t think it’s so empty anymore but hopefully there is still some magic to be found. We’ll make our way at the month’s end to Buenos Aires, Argentina (EZE) and catch our next flight to

WDH – Windhoek, Namibia.

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I know. If you are like I was a few years ago, you might have to look on a map to find out where Namibia is.  But thanks to our friends Steve and Tamara who came back from there with amazing photographs and stories, we decided it was the perfect African destination.  I’ve never been to Africa but when I first imagined myself traveling, it was Africa that filled my dreams.  I’m pretty excited to finally make it there.  We have about 2 months to explore.  Apparently the “thing to do” in Namibia is the self driving tour. Sounds like another name for a road trip to me and we are good at nothing if not a road trip.  We’ll rent a 4×4 vehicle with a rooftop tent, cause you know, lions can’t jump on top of a vehicle. After tooling around Southern Africa we’ll somehow make our way to Morocco (CAS).  I’m guessing this will involve a flight.  If not, god help me.  Our good buddy Pete lives in Morocco and we’re pretty excited to finally get to visit him.

On February 29 (yep – it’s leap year, one bonus day of travel!) we fly back to Seattle. This was our compromise, a way to meet the needs of all family members.  My need to not leave my business for an entire year.  The kid’s need to see friends and play baseball.  Truth be told, we may have planned this entire trip around baseball season.  I will neither confirmnor deny this absurdity. The boys and I will resume our “normal” lives for a few months and Randy will plan some as yet to be determined solo adventure that may or may not involve bicycling in New Zealand.  He’s not one to be pinned down.  I support his desire to take full advantage of his sabbatical.  And while he’s off doing something incredible, I will remind myself that it was my choice to come home and work. You may need to help remind me.

When July and August, 2020 roll around we plan to spend 2 months backpacking on the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail).  You may recall that this was part of our original plan several years ago when we began dreaming up our next adventure.  For a few reasons, we decided tackling the entire trail from the Mexican border to the Canadian border did not make sense right now.  We hope to complete the Washington section and maybe some of Oregon.

In September, I’ll cram in a couple of weeks of work while Randy prepares us to hop on a plane for the last leg of our journey.  Maybe the kids will go to school for a stint, maybe not.  That’s just too far away for me to think about now. We’ll head to Japan (Josh’s pick) and Nepal and some dreamy tropical paradise yet to be determined but likely in SE Asia (Bodhi’s pick).

And then, it’ll be December again and we will return to Seattle with a 7th grader and a sophomore (what?!) and our city life will resume as though it were never interrupted. I’ve traveled just enough to know this is true.  One plans and plans for months or years for a trip like this, the trip happens in the blink of an eye and then you are left with the memories made.  Sometimes the really awful parts of the trip become the best stories. As I sit here researching Patagonia and Southern Africa I wonder what stories we will be telling a year from now…

Posted by: stacylynn12 | February 10, 2019

Balancing Act

It’s an early February day in 2019, a little over a year since I last wrote a post.  The city of Seattle, the place we call home, has all but shut down with the arrival of a wintery wonderland.  We are in the midst of the third snowstorm in less than a week and there is another big one on the horizon.  New Englanders and Midwesterners turned Seattleites often roll eyes at the ridiculousness of Seattle in the snow.  Grocery store shelves run bare, school is cancelled or delayed or released early and crashes abound… often with no more than an inch or two of the fluffy (or not so fluffy as is usually the case) white stuff. But I get it.  This is not Maine or the Midwest.  We have limited resources to deal with these rare events and Seattle is hilly.  Like really hilly.  I challenge any Mainer to get down (or up) a steep, icy hill sans sand, salt or plow.

It would be nice to be skiing but we’re not.  We have had two amazing ski adventures already this year.  One to Banff and Lake Louise in Alberta, Canada and one sweet road trip to Big Sky, Montana, Jackson Hole, Wyoming and Sun Valley, Idaho.  I’m pretty sure I’d make a great ski bum.  But alas, we are back to life in the city.  At least for now.


Sun Valley Bluebird Day

In 2013 I wrote a post titled “Call to the Wild” about our big ideas for our next sabbatical. It’s hard to believe it’s been 7 years since our last one.  7 years ago we had an about to turn 4 year old and a recently turned 6 year old. We were in Huaraz, Peru living in and loving the Cordillera Blanca and the wonderful friends we made there.  Now here we are staring at the possibility of another “year off”. Randy’s job with the City of Seattle affords him the opportunity to take a one year leave every 7 years.  We’re not the sort of people to let those opportunities slip by. And yet, life is a little more complicated now.  We’ve got kids with opinions, sports and friends.  It seems a little more challenging to homeschool a 6th grader and a freshman than it did to homeschool a 1st grader, especially since that didn’t go so well.  I own a business. We own a home.  Some days it feels like an insurmountable logistical challenge to walk away from it all for a year.  And yet, we are aware that the next time this opportunity rolls around another 7 years from now, our children will have launched into the world, pursuing their own lives in whatever form that takes.  This is it.  Our last chance for this kind of adventure with our little family unit as we currently know it.

The boys doing a little trip planning.  It was super exciting to see them tabbing pages in our World Travel book, writing and mapping out possible itineraries!


When we began discussing this next adventure, we planned to start the trip in April or May walking on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) which would require the kids to miss both the end of their 5th and 8th grade years and the start of their next school year, both of them at new schools.  More recently whenever we’ve had a family discussion about our sabbatical plans, we noticed that our teenager would begin the conversation excited about the possibilities and then morph into a sad and sullen, well… teenager.  With time he was able to reflect and communicate with us that the idea of leaving his friends for 12 months was not his idea of a good time.  He wanted to go but the social sadness was real.  The tween was resistant to the idea of walking for 6 months on the PCT.   Truth be told, I was too.  Not that spending that amount of time in the mountains is unappealing to me because it absolutely is appealing, but I was having trouble with the idea of closing my newly thriving structural medicine practice for such a long time.  I enjoy my job but I would be fine not doing the work for a year.  The problem I was coming to understand, was a sense of responsibility.  I have amazing clients who I thoroughly enjoy.  I’m very lucky to be able to play a role in their health and well being.  I’m not able to help every person that comes to see me but there are some who tell me that I am making a significant difference in their quality of life, their ability to move and do the things they love to do.  They entrust me with the care of their physical body and it is a great privilege to be able to serve them.   I was having a hard time with the idea of just walking away from them.  The plan we had in our heads was rapidly falling apart.

At that point we decided that we’d need to be creative and flexible. Since then we’ve tried on about 15 different versions of the time we have to spend.  We decided to leave in July, then February and now December.  We decided to walk 1,000 miles of the PCT, then Washington and Oregon and then just Washington.  We were going to leave and come back to Seattle… flying to Asia and Africa with a Seattle break and the PCT in between.   We’ve wrestled with the added costs of this plan and the realities of our finances.  We’ve tried to come up with something that works for everyone.  It’s not so easy.

So here’s where things stand at this moment, on day 7 of Seattle’s 2019 snowpocalypse during which we’ve been dreaming of possibilities in between bouts of rare city snow play.

We’re leaving the first of December.  Uhh… that’s less than a year away.  We’d been anticipating a mid February departure and counting down to the “1 year to go” mark. Then just like that, the one year mark was more than a month behind us.  I momentarily panicked.  Breathe slowly, drink heavily… or something like that.

We’re heading to Patagonia. What? Where did that come from? South America has not been part of the discussion but all of a sudden, with very little debate, it seemed like an obvious place to start. December is summer in southern Chile and Argentina, the countries that make up the geographic region of Patagonia.  For our entire lives as climbers we’ve had visions of the outrageous granite spires of the Torres del Paine in Chile and the Fitz Roy massif, that straddles the border between Chile and Argentina dancing in our heads. We’ve never been and the time seems ripe.  As a side note, my humble husband Randy has 4 Patagonian first ascents.  In 2000, he and 4 other climbers traveled to Hornopirén National Park in Chile and climbed 4 remote, previously unclimbed peaks. A short summary of the trip can be found here if you are so inclined: Randy’s Chilean Climbing Adventure.

Hornopirén however is a coastal Chilean range so the trip to the heart of Patagonian Andes will be new for him too.


Fitz Roy Massif  (photo by Todor Bozhinov)

After a couple of months of tromping the wilds of Patagonia we plan to head to Columbia and maybe Panama for some tropical wonderfulness.

We’ve decided to let these 3 months unfold as they will albeit with this loose plan in place.  We used to travel this way and then somewhere along the way I decided I needed more certainty.  I’ve enjoyed the past couple of trips where we booked accommodations in advance but this leaves little room for spontaneity, something we all missed.  With 3 months instead of two weeks we can afford a little less certainty.  Randy is thanking the travels gods that I have come to my senses.  Now if we find ourselves wandering around some Argentinian town on Christmas Eve looking desperately for a place to stay and are told repeatedly that there is no room at the inn, I may regret my decision but for now, I’m all in.

We plan to return to Seattle in March.  Here’s where the creativity and flexibility come in. I’m not entirely confident we are making the right plan here but for the moment it feels like the best option.  The kids will go back to school, I’ll go back to work.  Randy will go to New Zealand to cycle the North and South islands and then to Morocco to see his bestie. I’m shaking my head as I type.  Why on earth am I choosing this?

I want Randy to be able to take full advantage of his time. At any point in the next 7 years if I want to leave my work and go for a month somewhere in the world, I can (in theory if not in practice) do that.  Randy has much less flexibility for a big chunk of time like that outside of the amazing once every 7 year sabbatical opportunity.

The boys really could use some academic touchpoints. I’m not sure I’m up for the task of homeschooling them completely independently for an entire year.  And there’s baseball.  I truly can hardly believe baseball is a consideration.  But our family values athletics. Participation in high school athletics in Seattle is competitive for many sports simply due to the sheer number of interested students and the limitations of coaching and field time.  For Bodhi, missing his freshman year of baseball could be the difference between the opportunity to play or not play in the subsequent years. I’m just not willing to take that chance away from him.  So the boys and I will spend the spring in Seattle, living in our cottage since our house will be rented.  Good times. Please send wine.  I’m beginning to stockpile.

We’ll hit the Washington PCT in July and August.  Then at some point we plan to head to Asia to visit Japan (Josh’s choice) Thailand and Nepal.

This is all still unfolding.  I’m beginning to search for flights to Patagonia.  I’m almost ready to actually purchase some guidebooks after months (years really) of checking books out of the library.



Early Research 

I think this plan has struck a balance… we’ll get to travel as a family.  Randy will get his year off.  The kids won’t have to be away for 12 months and I’ll get to intersperse some work with the play.  I do wonder if I’m missing the big picture… One year goes so fast – the blink of an eye really as any parent will tell you.  I can scarcely believe it’s been 7 years since we last did this.  Maybe we should just pack it all up and hit the road.  But this feels like a better approach that honors all the important things in our lives. Stay tuned to see how it all comes together!



For anyone planning some long term travel, these are some websites we have been using to research and gather data.  Let me know any gems I’m missing!

Discover how to get anywhere by plane, train, bus, ferry & car

Round the world / multipoint flights

Travel budgeting

Calculating travel costs

Secret Flying – flight deals

Sky Scanner








Posted by: stacylynn12 | January 8, 2018

No Bad Days?


I’m stunned. Has it really been 4 1/2 years since I wrote a blog post?!  Where has the time gone?

In the intervening years since I last wrote, our children have somehow grown up as I suppose children are wont to do. I have started and completed school and begun to grow a business. We bought a house and built a backyard cottage.

We’ve been on lots of mountain adventures including a 14 day circumambulation of Mt. Rainier on the Wonderland Trail to celebrate Randy’s 50th birthday.  During those long, glorious days of hiking I crafted many a blog post in my head but somehow they never made it to print.

We’ve skied, run races, played sports, gone to school and work, visited family, celebrated marriages and mourned the loss of friends and family members.  We’ve contemplated the daily grind, had barbecues with neighbors, rode bikes, swam in the lake…  In short, we’ve done all the things that make up the meat and potatoes of life.

Except, we haven’t really traveled.  Trips to Maine, while magical are not “traveling”.  Nor do I count trips just north of the border to British Columbia.  And before you say it, yes I know.  Spoiled, privileged, lucky… nuts?  Travel Blogger Blues revisited.

This Christmas I aimed to change that.  I was tired of getting caught up in the commercial craziness.  The expectations, the decorating, the stress, the money spent on toys and gifts that will be collecting dust before the tree is composted. The baking and eating of cookies that will be lamented and sworn off as soon as January hits.  I know some people love this stuff.  I used to but anymore… no gracias.  I fear I have begun to turn a Grinchy shade of green around Dec 1st. That and frankly, the weather sucks in Seattle in December.  Skiing is often not quite up and running, the days are short and dark and it rains.

We discussed going to Cuba and got excited about that idea.  But then “he who shall not stain my blogpost” stole that from us.  Next up was Panama but the cost of getting there proved to be more than we could justify for a 2 week trip.  Enter:  Baja.

Affordable, warm, dry, tropical.


Ocean, mountains, pools and beaches.


Bonus:  opportunities to practice Spanish, reasonably close.

I kinda sorta checked in with the family to get their input but I’m pretty sure they’d tell you it was the kind of question where there was only one answer.

On Dec 17th we hopped a plane to Los Cabos.  This is the story of our two weeks traveling a loop around southern Baja, Mexico.  It is a tale of teal blue ocean waters, margaritas, whale sharks, baby turtles, ATVs, and lest you sign off before the tale even begins, thinking I’ve written a boastful, self-indulgent tropical dream story… let me tell you – there were antibiotics and IV fluids too.

Let me also tell you up front – we had a great trip and I would, without a doubt go back to Baja.  But in the age of Facebook where everyone posts the good stuff and omits the not so good stuff, perhaps leaving the readers feeling inadequate, I want to give you a real glimpse of our experiences and maybe even a life lesson to ponder.  It’s a bit long but I figure every 4 1/2 years I can ramble on a bit. I promise if I start blogging with regularity again I’ll shorten things up.

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We arrived late in the afternoon on a Sunday to San Jose del Cabo’s international airport. Anticipation had been building for this trip for months  (perhaps for some of us more than others). We had about a 1 hour drive to our first stop in Los Barriles on the Sea of Cortez, where a fabulous ocean side pool awaited us.  I could already taste the margarita at the swim up bar.  Then we turned the corner in the airport to the immigration area and our little internal happy dances fell flat on their faces.  The line was long.  Like unbelievably long. It snaked its way back and forth around retractible, crowd control stanchions.  Row, upon row, upon row of pasty gringos all trying to get themselves poolside by happy hour.  After an interminably long wait, passports were stamped and we found our way to the rental car agency and hit the road.

This trip was different for us.  We’re not usually a rental car kind of family.  For some reason we find it much more entertaining to suffer long, arduous bus rides where our children are exposed to violent Arnold Schwarzenegger films, livestock may take up the seat next to us and pee breaks are few and far between.

We have never taken a trip where our lodging was booked in advance for the entire trip. We’re a budget backpacker kind of bunch and not so much a condo crew.  As such, I (being the planner in the family) usually end up in one location, frantically searching guidebooks and the internet for where we will go next and where we will stay once we get there.  I struggle to feel present in the moment in the place we are in.  That said, we really like the freedom to go where the wind takes us,  to capitalize on spontaneous opportunities and serendipitous encounters.  I thought perhaps having lodging planned would give us freedom in all other aspects of the trip yet allow me to relax and go with the flow.  Randy, the ultimate “go with the flow-er” dude, begrudgingly agreed.

The road to Los Barriles was extremely narrow and winding.  The all too frequent roadside shrines bearing crosses, flowers and inscriptions did little to inspire confidence. Though happy hour was long out of the question, we were happy to be arriving just as daylight was turning to darkness. We looked longingly from the patio of our condo at the beautiful pool, only steps away, that had drawn us to this place and decided to wait until morning.  (Turns out one of the upsides to condo living is the magazine worthy pools. You just don’t find this in the dirtbag digs and I wanted beautiful pools on this trip.  I wanted a taste of how the other half travels.)


This was taken from our patio… infinity pool, swim up bar, ocean… divine.


Morning dawned, Josh and I awoke early and set out on foot for coffee at Cafe Encinalito, purported to be the best in town.  It was a bit further than we anticipated.  A couple of hours later we wandered back, sweaty, arms loaded with lukewarm coffee, smoothies, fresh squeezed OJ and to die for homemade bagels and scones.

The moment had arrived.  Pool time!  Kids donned suits and dipped toes, testing the waters.

“Mom, it’s cold.”

Certainly not.

OMG.  The pool is cold.  This is NOT what I imagined all those months ago, taking deep breaths and telling myself before long we’d be lounging poolside in Baja.

To make matters worse, after approximately 30 minutes of braving the cold water Bodhi walks over to me – where I am making the most of the situation and lying in a lounge chair attempting to read a book – and says in his most obnoxiously tweeny, bored voice “uhm, so what are we going to do?”

You have got to be kidding me!  We are in Baja, at a pool (albeit a cold one but since when does a kid care?), next to a beach and I get 20 min before boredom sets in?  Bat shit crazy mom head exploding.

Turns out lounging poolside is not a 12 year old’s idea of a good time.  And despite the fact that this is what I long for when it’s 40° and raining in Seattle, I’m not so sure it’s my cup of tea either.  As it turns out, I’m good for about 30 min and then my antsy pants start tormenting me. Which is to say I had about 10 more minutes before I was ready to be interrupted by kid boredom.

Thank the goddess that Randy is still a big kid at heart.  He and the boys set about building a sandcastle fortress while I tried to reconcile myself with the fact that the water was too damn cold to sit at the swim up bar all day.


The next few days were highlights for all of us.   Josh successfully snorkeled for his first time and we saw a nice variety of fish right off the beach at Cabo Pulmo – a marine national park and sanctuary to the only living coral reef on the western side of the continent.  I could stop there and lead you to believe that it was a paradise of underwater magic and of course in many ways it was.  What’s not to love about the privilege of entering an entirely foreign world of colorful creatures?  In the interest of keeping it real however, I’ll tell you that December is not the best time of the year to visit Cabo Pulmo. It’s colder and more windy which churns the waters and makes snorkeling suboptimal.  On top of that there was also a random algae bloom predicted to last a few days and tour operators in the area were advising against shelling out money to visit the prime spots.  Ah well…

On to ATV riding.  This was day 3 and we could have packed up and gone home on day 4, the boys having experienced nirvana in the form of the illegal operation of a 4 wheeler up a dry, sandy river bed, known in these parts as an arroyo. We made our way, surprised by the verdant landscape.  Baja California Sur is a desert ecosystem and yet the landscape was dotted with so many varieties of palm trees and cacti in green glory that one would think we were in the middle of the wet season where torrential rains turn the dry arroyos into rushing rivers and quench the thirsty landscape.


The further we went up the arroyo the more narrow, rocky and wet it got until finally we reached a point of vehicular impermeability.  We set off on foot to explore the canyon. After a while we reluctantly made the decision to turn around due to dwindling water in our bottles and a complete lack of snacks.  The pull of what is around the next bend is strong and I loved seeing the adventurous nature of the kids.





One of my favorite lines from the trip came the next morning when Bodhi awoke and announced “It’s 10 am, the bar must be open!” Oh my… trouble ahead.  In fact, it opened at 11 am and while Randy returned our ATV, the 3 of us shivered our way through two virgin piña coladas and a cerveza just to have the experience of the swim up bar.  Yes, I drank a beer at 11am.  The swim up bar didn’t serve lattes. We did see huge rays (manta?)  rocketing themselves skyward right off shore and that took the sting out of the cloudy, chilly day.

Post aquatic libations, we moved on to our next planned lodging and our first ever glamping (i.e., glamorous camping) experience in La Ventana, a North American kiteboarding mecca during this windy season.  The large canvas tents were equipped with comfortable queen beds, comforters, pillows, a bedside table with a lamp and nothing else.  Adjacent to our tent was a perfectly acceptable open air bathroom with a view of the stars.  Emerge from the tent and boom!, you are at the beach! However, Mother Nature was delivering epic conditions for the kiters and that sent those of us who do not partake seeking fun in the hills.

Windy Glamping


Bodhi testing his slack line skills


A day trip to the sweet mountain town of El Triunfo revealed a once booming mining town turned ghostly, now slowly coming back to life.  We enjoyed a leisurely lunch at a cafe with a lush garden setting and Bodhi, doing what Bodhi does so well, made friends with some local kids while we wandered the town.  It’s amazing what a smile and a football can do when there is little common language.




The highs and lows of the trip continued and we found ourselves wrestling with some health issues.  Randy had a cold before flying that had given him significant trouble during the flights in the form of ear pressure and he hadn’t been able to hear a thing out of one ear for days.  We decided to seek out a health clinic as it seemed to be moving to his lungs and he was feeling pretty crummy (though being quite a trooper I must say.)

My Spanish is bueno enough but dealing with medical issues is a different ballgame.  We found a pharmacy (which will dispense the likes of xanax, viagra and an array of antibiotics at will), with a doctor’s office al fondo (in the back).  But of course, the doctora was not in.  “Come back at 3 o’clock.”  At 3 o’clock we were told to come back at 3:30.  Finally we saw the doc and I fumbled my way through Randy’s litany of symptoms.  He left with a diagnosis of bronchitis, an antibiotic, a renewed hope of feeling better and an uneasiness around taking the prescription.  Having had allergic reactions in the past, taking medicine is not his favorite thing.

Our evening plans included the unique experience of thermal hot springs right on the beach.  The caveat being you have to dig them yourself.  Armed with buckets, shovels and a tarp from our glamping digs, we hurried to get things going before the sun set. The idea was to prepare your “tub” and then sit in warmth and awe as the moon rose, the stars shined and the surf spilled gently into your tub, mixing with the thermal waters and creating bliss.


But, in keeping with the theme of things being not quite as perfect as you might imagine, the thermal water was scalding hot and the tarp had a hole.  We feverishly poured buckets of cooling ocean water into the tarp which sneakily drained out returning the temperature to “burn your buns hot”.  At least we tired the boys out.  C’est la vie! Oops, wrong country.

Christmas Eve found us in our new upscale digs in La Paz.  Each boy had his own bedroom with a super fluffy, down comforter on a queen sized bed.  Talk about a diversion from our norm.  They are accustomed to sleeping on a Therm-a-Rest on the floor. Historically, if they get a pull out couch and real pillows they are pretty stoked. Within an hour of checking in, Josh had managed to lock himself out of his private quarters and our gracious Airbnb host had to attempt to track down someone locally with a key… did I mention it was Christmas Eve?  Instead of watching the Santa Tracker (I’ve admittedly stayed up watching it after the kids have gone to bed) and leaving out cookies and milk for the jolly ol’ fellow, we drank margaritas and played Uno.


Balandra Beach on Christmas Day… one of my favorites!  The boys played football, we rented a paddle board and a kayak and explored the shallow bay, paddling out                  to some fine snorkeling spots and enjoying the multi generational Mexican families sharing the beach with us.


La Paz delivered a few trip highlights including the ONLY warm swimming pool of our trip, a multitude of Shirley Temples, a day trip to Isla Espiritu Santo to snorkel with sea lions and linger in a gorgeous bay and… the grand finale – snorkeling with whale sharks!



The whale shark is a behemoth creature – the largest fish in the ocean.  (Mind you, whales are not fish so the grey whale takes top honors for largest creature.)  The relatively warm waters in the Bay of La Paz are home to a pod of about 100 whale sharks – filter feeding, plankton eaters that pose little to no threat to humans.  Though we did tell Josh they sometimes liked 9-year-old boys as dessert to encourage good behavior since we couldn’t use the “Santa’s leaving coal in the stocking” threat this year.  He laughed heartily at this, which I’m pretty sure means he wasn’t buying it.

We were encouraged to see that visiting the area where the whale sharks are known to be was a highly regulated affair.  Only licensed commercial operators are allowed and boats have to basically “take a number”.  As we made our way around the bay in search of these gentle giants the excitement built.  Finally, our guide spotted the darker shaded water that indicated the presence of a shark just below the surface.  With snorkels, masks, flippers and wet suits we jumped in.  The water was not as clear as it had been in the protected waters around Isla Espiritu Santo but we followed our guide and within a minute I turned my head to find myself quite literally face to face with a 30-ish foot beauty!  The first two we saw were eating and running, which is to say they were swimming along, filter feeding near the surface and weren’t too concerned about welcoming their newly arrived guests or inviting us to tea.  The third one we encountered however was feeding vertically and just hanging out in one place.  I don’t know how long we floated there in awe of this creature but it was most certainly a life highlight.



It’s not much of a video but you at least get an idea of how close we were to the whale shark.  Next time… underwater cameras!


On the 4th and final stop of our Baja adventure we visited Todos Santos, up and over the Sierra de la Laguna mountain range and on the Pacific coast of Baja.  Todos Santos is a quirky mix of artists, fishermen, locals, tourists and surfers. It has a decidedly walkable vibe and is home to the fabled “Hotel California” and though it appears that the association with the Eagles song by the same name is urban legend, the hotel and it’s associated gift shop are having no trouble profiting off the misunderstanding.

Wandering the town, Josh got his shopping fill.  This child, who still tries to get me to order for him when we go out to eat at home, was bargaining for his wares, in Spanish no less!

We got overloaded on cuteness with the Tortuguero Proyecto (Turtle Project). This group collects vulnerable leatherback eggs from beach nests and keeps them safe in a fenced off area until they hatch.  Once the hatchlings emerge, tourists can join in the fun and release them.  It’s a win-win for conservation and tourism and it’s about the most adorable thing you’ll ever do.

That said, it’s a bit heart wrenching to see these tiny creatures scuttle their way toward the sea only to get set back 20 feet by an incoming wave.  The worst is when the wave lands them on their shell and they can’t flip themselves back over.  Imagine watching helplessly (you aren’t allowed to touch them) as they struggle in vain until another wave comes and rights them if they are lucky.

Once your turtle is victorious, disappearing into the swell and you begin to celebrate their success, you notice a frenzy of activity just beyond the break.  You ask the group leader in your broken Spanish if fish are eating the turtles and he says “fish, whales, birds, crabs, grown up turtles”… basically you name it.  It’s not easy being a baby turtle.

As I watched and contemplated the meaning of it all, we saw migrating grey whales breaching off shore.  The wildlife encounters were enough to blow one’s mind.



Our days in Baja were dwindling but we had one more adventure planned.  We were staying near Cerritos Beach a well-known surfing enclave, perfect for beginners due to the small(ish) size of the waves and we were all excited about a lesson.

‘Twas not to be.

The morning of our surfing day we were at a cafe in town for breakfast.  I’d just ordered and received my first latte since Los Barriles and was about to take a sip when a wave of cold chill and ickiness rippled through my body.  I sat there for a while hoping it would pass but when I couldn’t get myself to drink my coffee I knew something was wrong.  I calmly told Randy I wasn’t feeling well.  I was shaky and tingly and my face felt weird. No bueno.  We were barely coming out of the woods with his illness and I was none to excited to be having my intro to surfing interrupted.

Discovering a clinic just around the corner, we opted to stop in for a visit.  Luckily,  I wasn’t having a stroke as I’d feared with my weird tingling face.  I was dehydrated.  Me, the water nazi.  Ask my children how often I warn them of the perils of dehydration.  At the risk of TMI…  4 days of travelers diarrhea, a day on a boat in the sun, too little water and a cerveza had apparently done me in. The regular evening margarita probably didn’t help either. They offered me blood work and urine tests to check for infection, a test for parasites (aka the “poo poo test”) and suggested IV fluids for quick rehydration.  I opted for oral electrolytes and reluctantly agreed at Randy’s insistence to stay for an hour of observation.

An hour later we were on our way thinking we’d put this behind us.  Little did we know that night we’d be back at the clinic, but this time not for me.  Randy, who had been steadily improving and had just finished his last dose of antibiotics, suddenly developed an intense sore throat.  So many questions… too short a course of medication?  Allergic reaction?  What happens in remote Baja when emergency medicine is needed?  After talking with our angel emergency physician neighbor, Krissey (muchas gracias amiga!) We decided to leave the kids at the condo and drive back into town to the clinic.  It was determined that the course of antibiotics had been too short and there was no allergic reaction.  The doc offered him a shot of dexamethasone, he declined and armed with naproxen to reduce his throat swelling, we were on our way.

Wouldn’t it be nice if the medical part of the story ended here and we could resume with the fun?  But no.  I awoke the next morning feeling fine but immediately began to decline.  When we told the kids we were heading back to the clinic Bodhi respectfully but perhaps with a twinge of irritation asked “What is it this time?”  I feel you buddy… this is NOT the bees knees.

This time, I got the full monty.  Blood draw, poo poo test and IV fluids.  For 4 dreadful hours I was hooked up to that bloody drip.  Well, not actually bloody.  Britishly bloody. But given the setting I could see the confusion.  Tests came back indicating that it was likely nothing more than dehydration.  Bullet, dodged.

Randy and the boys were absolute champs.  Not one ounce of complaining about the situation. Of course the kid’s situation was greatly improved by giving them our phones to play video games and thus breaking our technology ban for the trip.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The events of the last couple of days had taken its toll and I couldn’t eat my dinner that night.  We’d saved our last night at Cerritos Beach to go to Free Souls – a place overlooking the Pacific Ocean with a salt water infinity pool and a focus on farm to table cuisine.  I could no longer tell if I was still sick or if the scariness of being sick in a foreign country was getting the best of me.  I wanted out.

How is it that Randy and I traveled in Asia for 6 months and never once visited a clinic? We spent 3 days holed up in a tiny village in the Himalayas with no way out but on foot, sick as dogs.  No problem.  I passed out on the floor of a Tibetan squat toilet from lord knows what.  Big deal.  (These are good stories by the way but they were pre blogging days so you’ll have to come visit us to hear them. 😉  Yet here we were in little ‘ol Baja for two stinking weeks, falling apart.

So what of this popular Baja saying “No Bad Days”?  I’m not sure I agree and yet I suppose it’s all how you look at it.  “No Bad Days” is like a Facebook post where all the world is a rosy shade of goodness.  But even in Baja there are cloudy afternoons, people get sick and things don’t go as planned.  Pool water is cold and kids get bored. The question is, can you still find meaning in the muck?  Can you still see light through the darkness?

I’ve been pondering our Baja experiences for a week now.  Here’s what I’ve learned.

Despite our best attempt, I’m not sure the Earlywine family is a pre-planned vacation kind of family.  I did an internet search of travel vs. vacation and I read a piece that said “If there were umbrella drinks involved, it was probably a vacation.”  I think we had a couple, but I’m not so sure there’s not more to it.  For me it was our final moments in Baja that highlighted the difference.

We arrived at the rental car agency to drop off our vehicle.  As we emptied the contents of the trunk onto the sidewalk – backpacks, plastic bags containing souvenirs, sweatshirts that didn’t fit inside a pack, a bag of empty water bottles, a couple of pairs of shoes, books, headphones and sunscreen – and began to attempt to organize it in a way that would allow us to get through airport security, I looked around and noticed the other half.  Every other person dropping off a car walked to the trunk, opened it and took out a neat, compact suitcase on wheels with a pop up handle.  Some had a small handbag slung over one shoulder.  Nothing exploded from their trunks, nothing required further attention before they could proceed to the shuttle van that would whisk them away to the airport.  I’m certain they were relaxed from lounging around the pool drinking umbrella drinks all week.  I bet their pools were even heated.

Now that I’m sitting back in Seattle, drinking a latte on a Sunday morning and looking out at the rain, I think maybe I wanted a vacation but I went about it all wrong.  I tried to bridge traveling and vacationing.  I’ve learned that’s like trying to mix water and oil. You’ve kinda gotta go one way or the other. Perhaps a couple of days booked into one of those all-inclusive resorts would have been a good choice, and then we could have commenced with traveling.  I don’t know.

What I thought it would be like was nothing near to what it was actually like… this rental car driving, condo living.  Sure rental cars and condos make things a little easier, perhaps a little more comfortable.  But something is lost in the trade.  Connection to other travelers and to local people is diminished and there’s more of a feeling of us and them – the haves and the have-nots – instead of a shared humanity.

The other thought that has come to me as I have been trying to compose this little tale is that if you are not content where you are, you are probably not going to be content where you are going.  There is no perfect “there”.  Don’t get me wrong, a little sunshine, warmth and blue skies does a lot to lift the mind’s fog from Seattle’s dark, grey winter doldrums but expecting the “there” to be perfect and without flaw is setting one’s self up for disappointment at best and possibly even discontentment.  I suppose the moral of the story can be distilled into the idea that one should not put all of one’s happiness eggs into some future, utopian basket. Baja is magical but let me tell you it’s no more magical than right here, right now.

In July of 2019 Randy is up for another 1 year leave from his job with the City of Seattle. We are in the throes of deciding what to do with that year.  Our Baja trip has given me a lot to chew on.

Before heading to drop off our rental car we did have a few moments of bliss on a Cabo beach.  The calm, clear, teal water is still with me.  I will return.  Maybe someday I’ll even try one of those suitcases on wheels.



Baja California Sur, Mexico 2017


Posted by: stacylynn12 | July 12, 2013

Call to the Wild

“The mountains are calling me and I must go.” John Muir

PCT Trail Marker

Thanks for playing my game friends. About half of you were spot on with your guess. The other half of you were oh so close… A mere 3,000 miles off. While the Appalachian Trail is near and dear to me and I aim to thru-hike it some day, the object of our 2019 (ish) adventure is its west coast cousin.

The Pacific Crest Trail or PCT as it is commonly referred to is roughly 2,650 miles long and winds across and through sweltering, dry desert and high altitude mountain passes often covered in snow year round. It spans three states – California, Oregon and Washington – on its journey from the Mexican border to the Canadian border or vice-versa… depending on your world view.

The PCT was designated a National Scenic Trail in 1968 and officially completed in 1993. Walk the trail in its entirety and you will visit 7 national parks, 25 national forests and 33 federally mandated wilderness areas. You will traverse the mighty Sierra Nevada and the bold Cascades. You will gain over an estimated and seriously whopping 300,000 feet in cumulative elevation. That’s a freakin lot of up.

By any account 2,650 miles is a long way. It’s a long way to drive let alone walk. Why on earth would anyone want to walk that far? The reasons for undertaking such a challenge are as numerous as the people who attempt it. I can only tell you why it appeals to me.

Let me distill my reasons for wanting to engage in such foolishness down to one word.


I do love an adventure.

An adventure is an exciting or unusual experience; it may also be a bold, usually risky undertaking, with an uncertain outcome.” –

Oooooooooohhhhhh! Doesn’t that sound good? I believe it was Helen Keller who said “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”

You go girl.

Of course the above stated definition could be interpreted in many different ways. An exciting or unusual experience could result from a wrong turn on a Sunday drive. (If anyone actually does Sunday drives anymore?). A cook attempting a new recipe for a crowd of hungry people is perhaps a risky undertaking with an uncertain outcome. What is bold and risky to some is paralyzing and unthinkable to others. Simply put, we must all define our own adventures.

For me, an adventure is born when the potential benefits and rewards outweigh the risks. Risks may include anything from the relatively harmless possibility of discomfort to the potential for serious physical harm. These risks may be real or perceived but must present in order for the adventurer to reap the maximum feeling of reward. It is a delicate balance though. Encounter too many serious risks and the rewards and benefits begin to diminish.

On the Pacific Crest Trail, one is all but guaranteed an adventure. The potential risks are plentiful. Everything from the ubiquitous and mundane blisters and mosquito bites to the threat of hypothermia, sunburn and dehydration. Drowning during dangerous river crossings, lightning storms and falling on steep snow slopes are all real hazards not to mention the threat of a nasty case of Giardia from drinking unpurified water and the challenges associated with trying to maintain proper nutrition. There are bears, cougars and poisonous snakes to contend with. There will be fatigue and quite likely, physical overuse issues on joints, muscles and bones. There could be cuts, bruises, strains, sprains, rashes, bites or breaks. There will be bad weather.  Wet, soggy, miserably cold, unbearably hot… for days on end. There will be dried, dehydrated food meal after meal after meal. Yuk. We haven’t even begun to address the psychological toll an adventure like this can exact. Morale and motivation can ebb and flow like a tide gone mad.

Now multiply all of this times 4 since this will be a family adventure. If one of us goes down, we all go down. Though possible, It’s unlikely that any of the more horrifying hazards on my list will get us. In all my research I could find no evidence of attacks by wild animals on PCT hikers, ever. I found one fatality attributed to a slip and fall on a steep slope and many reports of hikers getting into trouble with dehydration, illness or navigation (aka… being lost), but getting rescued by local authorities.

It’s more likely that we’ll be waylaid by blisters, fatigue or illness all at different times so that instead of needing to rest for a few days and recover, we’ll need to rest for a few x4 and then we’ll get way behind schedule and never make it through to Washington before the snow flies and renders the trail impassable.

Or, the swarms of mosquitos will drive us all absolutely batty and run us literally out of the woods.

Or one of us will just get sick and tired of walking and want to quit.

Or maybe the physical demands will just to be too much for our bodies… some of us being on the slightly young side and others of us being well, not quite as young.

It’s possible that we won’t actually embark on this journey at all. Maybe we will decide that the Washington section at 500 miles is a worthy goal for our 11 and 13-year-old hikers. Or maybe we will tack on Oregon. The two states combined add up to just under 1,000… a nice number. If we are really feeling burly, maybe we will toss in another 210 and do the John Muir Trail through the High Sierras. I hear it’s spectacular. But I’m kind of a “Go Big or Go Home” gal so chances are, if I have anything to say about it, I’ll try to convince the boys to buy in to the long haul.

I just read accounts of two different families – a mother and her 9-year-old daughter and two parents with their 10-year-old daughter who thru-hiked the trail in 2012 and 2004 respectively. As I mentioned before, it’s not exactly a trip you can drag an unwilling participant on so the boys will have to want to do it. They are both hearty outdoorsmen now so there is reason to be optimistic.

But why? Why would we face such risks? Even if all goes swimmingly, there will be mosquitos, blisters, aches, pains and bad weather. There will be no pillows. Randy and I have both become quite particular about our pillows. Huh? When did that happen? They have to be a certain thickness (or thinness really) (Randy) and they have to be positioned just right. (Me) And I need two. Can I really do with a down jacket for a pillow for 6 months? And oh!!! My espresso machine! I survived without it for a year. Can I really be expected to do another?

I would. I would brave it all for the rewards the PCT has to offer.

Like traveling, long distance hiking presents an opportunity to break away from the routine of everyday life. I was tempted to write “escape”  but I guess I’m lucky in that I have a good life I really don’t feel a need to escape from. Yet, if given a choice (or an unlimited amount of money) I’d be out adventuring in equal proportions to the time spent at home.

I’ve never walked on a trail for months but I’ve spent enough time in the mountains in short bursts and a couple of long-ish stretches (10 days on the AT and 22 days in Nepal) to know that when I get out there, away from what normally consumes my time, that something magical happens.

Time slows. Life simplifies. Taking care of basic needs and putting one foot in front of the other is all there is. You have what you can carry on your back. Non essential items that a typical backpacker might include for comfort on a weekend adventure are discarded. Comfort comes at a cost on the PCT and hikers are rarely willing to add the extra weight in exchange for the added convenience.

I guess it makes me a little odd but not having all that stuff that normally takes up time and space in everyday life, well, I like that. Imagine if you could, for example, wake up and not have to decide what to wear. You wouldn’t have to decide because well, you only have one outfit. And, imagine now that no one would care that you wore that outfit day after day after day!


Now if I haven’t convinced you with that last “perk” of the trail, hang with me. Imagine coming to the end of a 2,650 mile walk.  Imagine what a freakin rock star you would feel like! You would be able to stop, look at yourself in the mirror and say “Dude!  you just walked from Mexico to Canada!”  You’d feel invincible!  From that point forward in your life you’d face challenges and think… “How hard can this really be?”  Can’t be harder than walking 2,650 miles.

You’d feel resourceful and tenacious.  You’d be as strong and fit as you could ever hope to be in your life.  In general, and forgive my outburst here, you could rightfully and righteously consider yourself forevermore a bad ass.

Now think of the lessons the trail could teach your children.  Imagine having that kind of self-reliance, perspective and confidence in your ability to overcome challenges and achieve a goal… all before the age of 18!


Mountains are a thing of beauty and I have a deep reverence for them. They are at once gentle; inviting contemplation and quiet…and violent; capable of unleashing a fury not meant for humans to endure. The reasons stated above are, in and of themselves, reason enough for me to embark on such a journey.  There is however something more.  I’ve been pondering it for days now.  It’s a rather intangible feeling associated with the power of wildness.  I can’t seem to put it into words but luckily for me there are many brilliant writers and champions of wilderness that have come before me who say it much better than I could ever hope to.  Here are a few of my favorites.

“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life.” – John Muir

“I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.” – John Muir

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” – Henry David Thoreau

“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is symbolic as well as actual beauty in the migration of the birds, the ebb and flow of the tides, the folded bud ready for the spring. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature – the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter.”  – Rachel Carson

“But love of the wilderness is more than a hunger for what is always beyond reach; it is also an expression of loyalty to the earth which bore us and sustains us, the only home we shall ever know, the only paradise we ever need – if only we had eyes to see.” – Edward Abbey

“Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit.” – Edward Abbey

“In God’s wildness lies the hope of the world.” – John Muir


Hortense Lake, John Muir Wilderness, Sierra Nevada, California

Now, if you are still unconvinced that the rewards of hiking the PCT outweigh the risks, I invite you to join us somewhere along the trail and experience a little bit of the magic for yourself.  You’ve got a few years to consider it.  🙂


It has long been a dream of Randy’s to hike the PCT.  Wherever I have used “me” in this post, I think I could fairly have used “we”.  The inspiration for these plans come from him and I am grateful to have such an adventurous mate.

Photos reposted here with permission from Wikimedia Commons

Posted by: stacylynn12 | June 20, 2013

Travel Blogger Blues

A year.  365 days.  8,760 hours.  That’s how long it’s been since we arrived home after traveling for a year.  That would make it 2 years, 730 days or 17,520 hours since we left Seattle, bound for Alaska and with no real idea what would transpire in the year that would follow.

And oh what a year it was!

And now?  Well, we’ve spent the last year doing all kinds of exciting things.  Soccer, baseball, Aikido, bicycling, school, swimming, work, gardening, cooking, camping, hiking, skiing and … we even bought a house!  Very exciting I know…yet I fear if I start writing about all the goals our kids scored (or didn’t score) in soccer, how they ripped it up on the snow slopes all winter, how we are debating paint colors for the bathroom…. well, I can just see the yawns and hear the snoring sounds.

Now don’t get me wrong.  It is totally possible to write about everyday life and make it interesting.  I read lots of parenting, gardening and cooking blogs and I love them.  But as Randy pointed out, this blog is not about that;  It’s a travel blog.  But since I don’t  really like to wander further than about a 2 mile radius from our house unless I’m on my way to the mountains or the airport, well…  you can see the problem.

What’s a travel blogger to blog about when not traveling?  It’s a sad thing really… a travel blogger without a trip.

Pause.  Sigh.

I could tell you about all the trips I take in my head.  You won’t believe the places I went last year.  Or, we could play a game.

We’ve got plans.  They are 6 years in the future  –  that’s 2,190 days or 52,560 hours but we’re not really counting.  Yet.  Bodhi will be 13, Joshua will be 11 and I can’t imagine anyone really cares how old Randy and I will be.  Or maybe I just don’t want to tell you.

So, the game… It’s a guessing game of sorts where I give you hints and you guess where we are going.  Here it is folks…

  • The trip will be approximately 2,650 miles.
  • It will take us 5 – 6 months to complete.
  • It may be difficult to finish but if we do, we will be super burly and very svelte.
  • It will be amazing… and hard.
  • Our children will either be thrilled with this idea or we will have to abort it.  It’s not the sort of trip you can drag unwilling participants on.  It’s too early to call which way this one will go but I’m optimistic.
  • There will be highs and lows.  Pay attention people.  I do not mean this in a metaphorical sense.
  • And possibly the best part about this plan is that it will leave us with another 6 months to go play on a beach somewhere…. cause you know how I feel about my beach time.

Now you get to guess what and where our trip will be.  Sadly, the winner gets nothing but the satisfaction of feeling smart.  Sorry folks, no sponsors offering up freebies on this blog.  Yet.

**Please note… plans are subject to change without prior notice.  Readers may not hold us accountable for anything that is stated, pondered or proposed herein these pages. Thanks for playing folks.

Posted by: stacylynn12 | October 24, 2012

Nothing Days


Well it finally feels like fall here in Seattle. I always look forward to fall so I can make soup. There is something very wrong about soup when it’s warm and sunny. Up until recently it has been more like southern California outside our door than Seattle. And I’m not complaining. Boy has it been good. It’s been like getting an extra month of vacation or a check in the mail you weren’t expecting. The sun just kept coming out every, single day.

On days like that I can’t stand to have our doors closed. I keep them wide open as long as I can. Closing them makes me feel claustrophobic and edgy. My parents were just visiting from Maine and they tend to run a little colder than we do. It brought me straight back to childhood… I’ll quote my dad, with an emphatic tone…“Close the door! What do you live in a barn?”. Except with the endearing Maine accent it would have come out more like “bahn” than barn.

Anyway, it finally rained. All day. And I made soup. When the soup starts simmering on the stove, it becomes ok to close the doors. To turn inward and slow down. Ahhhh…. Slowing down. This is the eternal challenge in our fast paced world. The kids have been craving some down time. The other day Joshua pleaded with us for a “nothing day”. And he meant it. When our neighbor came over to the backyard to play he lost it and melted down into a classic 4 year old tantrum-ing heap. “But you said it could be a nothing day!”

I get it. I like nothing days too. I guess that’s one reason we went traveling for a year. It’s not that we actually did nothing for 365 days, in fact most days were quite full. But there was generally nothing we had to do. We directed the flow of our daily life. Back home we generally do not and this has possibly been the hardest transition.

Randy returned back to work shortly after we arrived in Seattle so he’s been dealing with this for a while but for the kids and I, September hit like a pre-dawn alarm clock on a snuggly Sunday morning. We’d spent the summer doing… well… nothing. We did have swimming lessons for an hour each morning but that was about it. The rest of our days were filled with playing in the backyard. Good old fashion, unstructured, creative play. So when school started and all of a sudden there was an expectation that we be somewhere at a certain time, well it’s been hard. I know… Poor us.

Bodhi goes to school 5 days a week from 9:30 until 3:30. He has tutoring one morning a week before school at the ungodly hour of 7:45. He plays soccer and has practice one night a week and a game on Saturday. And he has homework. Oh how I abore the homework. We don’t get home from school until after 4 pm. The kids go to bed between 7:30 and 8pm. That leaves a precious 3 hours each day to do “nothing” and part of that is taken up with dinner, bedtime routines and now… homework. When it comes right down to it, Bodhi has as little as 1 hour each day to just be. Josh’s schedule is a little lighter… thank goodness. He’s only 4 after all. Randy is gone from the house a minimum of 11 hours each day, including commute, lunch and work time.

So what about all this? I imagine lots of you reading this have similar schedules. There’s nothing special or even interesting about our daily routine.

But it is interesting that we have evolved as a culture to where it is “normal” for families to be away from each other. It’s typical for young adults to go off to college and move somewhere (sometimes far) away from their hometown and family. It’s expected that young children will go to preschool and then on to kindergarten. Parents often work long hours away from the home.

Contrast this to several places we visited during our year of traveling where many families live together under one roof for generations – and by families I mean aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc. There may be a family compound so that when one does grow up and move out, it means moving next door rather than across the country. Work is often centered around the home particularly in a subsistence economy. If a person does work outside the home it is usually close by, allowing families to share meals together and of course commute times can be the time it takes to walk the trail into the village. Children may or may not go to school and if they do it’s typically for less time than here in the US. And there certainly aren’t the vast quantities of extracurricular activities.

These are large generalizations, I know.

So again… What about all this?

Well, generally when we see someone for the first time since we’ve returned from our trip they ask us some variation of this question… “So? What’s it like to be back?”

I’ll tell ya. It’s hard being back. Not the kind of hard like, having sick children hard or living in poverty hard. Take this with a grain of salt people. But it is hard hearing the kids talk about how they miss their Dad because he’s gone too long at work. Or hearing Bodhi say he doesn’t want to go to school because it’s too long and he wants to be with his family more. Or hearing Josh beg for a nothing day because he’s plum worn out from the schedule we are keeping.

We have choices of course. We didn’t have to sign up for soccer. We could homeschool if we really wanted to. Unfortunately Randy has to go to work everyday and there’s not a whole lot we can do about that, at least in the short term. We’ve been having lots of fun too though. The kids have enjoyed soccer and both Randy and I value athletics and some degree of extra curricular activities. We’re not quite ready to throw in the towel and homeschool. So what’s a post year of traveling together family to do?

Soccer will be over next week for this fall and we are going to take a break from activities until the new year. We’ll do our best to keep the schedule as clear as possible to allow for lots of nothing days. We will eat soup and continue to ponder how to keep ourselves out of the “rat race” without leaving home for a year to do so.

Got any ideas? If so, write to us and tell us how you do it. We’d love to know.


And now… A Recipe

Harvest Bisque – quite possibly the best soup in the world.

1 pound butternut squash
5 cups chicken stock
4 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon curry powder
3/4 cup half and half
1 tablespoon lime juice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon white pepper

Peel, seed and cut squash into 1″ cubes. Place in a heavy pot with the chicken stock. Cook over medium heat until tender, about 15 min. If you have an immersion blender, use it to purée the squash and stock. Otherwise, transfer the squash to a blender, mix then transfer back to the pot with the stock.

In another pot, melt the butter then add the flour and curry and stir until smooth. Add to the puréed squash and stir it in until it starts to thicken. Reduce heat and add the half and half. Do not allow the soup to boil after this point. Add lime juice, salt and pepper.

Garnish with a paper thin, sliced lime and serve.



This recipe is adapted from the Simply Classic cookbook put out by the Junior League of Seattle.
To make it gluten free use a GF flour blend… It works great!
If you don’t have white pepper, it’s fine to use black, finely ground.

Posted by: stacylynn12 | October 7, 2012

Post Trip Pondering

Well hello! It’s been a while. I’ve been pondering the question… What does a travel blogger blog about when no longer traveling? Is my blogging career over, just like that?

I think not. I’m not one to give up that easily. But I still haven’t answered my question. I think I’ll write about road tripping with kids… a sort of advice post. Someone, somewhere might find that useful. I’ll probably put down some thoughts about what it’s like to be home again, back to school and work after our year of travel. But after that, it’s all up in the air. Got any ideas? Let me know.

In the meantime, I’ve been working on a couple of things. First up, an online photo journal with some of our best pictures. Have a look.

Second, I was contacted recently by another blogger who has a very cool site ( where she writes about (among other things) families “who are living a life of purpose and adventure.” She asked if she could interview me. I could hardly contain my excitement. I’m not sure how this counts towards my 15 minutes of fame but I sure got to feel like a rock star for few days. The link to the interview is below. Enjoy!

And now, back to my pondering.

Click here to see our photos

Click here to read the interview

Posted by: stacylynn12 | August 1, 2012

Normal Schmormal

Then there is the most dangerous risk of all– the risk of spending your life not doing what you want on the bet you can buy yourself the freedom to do it later.” — Randy Komisar

People, I’m 41 years old and I’ve got to tell you something. I don’t know what the word normal means. Can’t define it, can’t explain it. What is normal? The question boggles my mind. Now let me tell you how on earth I set to pondering about the meaning of normal.

Eons ago, when we were off traveling the world with our 4 and 6 year old sons, (yes I’m being facetious but it really does already seem like a distant dream) I followed the blog of another traveling family. Now you think I’m nuts right? These folks are traveling indefinitely from Alaska to Argentina in a veggie oil powered truck with get this… 5 kids. I’m serious.

Anyway, they have taken a bit of flack here and there for their lifestyle choice. Here are a few examples of questions from some of the “nicer” naysayers.

“How is this good for the kids?”

“Don’t they need stability and to have the opportunity to have long lasting friendships, a good education, the ability to participate in extra curricular things that interest them, and have a “normal” life?”

“Do you fear that they will have a hard time as adults because of missed opportunities in a “normal” life?”

The family I speak of doesn’t seem phased in the least by comments such as these but me… well I’ve got my panties in a bit of a bunch over it. No one ever asked me these sorts of questions or really gave us much of a hard time for our choice to take a year “off” but then again I didn’t really openly invite these opinions and well, I’m sure there were those who just kept their comments to themselves. Nevertheless, reading these questions fired me up and I felt a strong desire to defend these kindred spirits.

So let’s take a look at what’s normal shall we? First, let me describe to you how I spent one morning just a few days after arriving home. I awoke at 4:00 am. I got up, made a thermos of coffee, grabbed my rain gear, iPad, a camping therm-a-rest chair and an umbrella and headed to the pool. Yes, you read this correctly. I went to the pool at this ungodly hour – in a downpour I might add – to register my kids for swimming lessons. I’m happy to report that there were 8 people crazier than myself. I was 9th in line. By 6:30 am there were approximately 70 parents huddled under umbrellas, sipping coffee and reminiscing about how the last time they had stood in a line this ridiculous was to buy Grateful Dead tickets 20 years ago. Now, please tell me what about the situation I have just described to you is “normal”?

I have observed, in our American culture, that what is not familiar to us is considered abnormal. In other words, in order for something to be normal, it has to be familiar. Let me offer an example. Before my children were born I had a friend who already had children and she and her husband were co-sleeping. Since this is not a familiar thing to many (read normal) I will explain. Co-sleeping means that you sleep with your children… in the same bed. Someone in our family – who shall remain nameless – caught wind of this friend’s sleeping situation. The response was “That’s weird”.

A few years later as we were preparing for the birth of our first child, I told our family that we did not intend to buy a crib for the baby. “Well where will he sleep?”. The concept of co-sleeping was just not familiar. It was therefore, not normal. As a small side note…. Approximately 90% of the world’s population shares a family bed. 90%!!! Even I was surprised by this statistic and found it to be remarkably high but it came up repeatedly in many different sites. This was the most interesting and compelling article.

Even if it wasn’t that high, even if it was “only” say, 80%, 70% or 60%, that’s still enough to make it quite a normal thing don’t you think? Perhaps we should look outside of our little North American box once in a while?

My children no longer sleep with me and Randy but they are currently sharing a bed together. They both love it. Bodhi had a friend over the other day and when the kids were playing in their room the friend asked if they slept in the bed together. Thankfully he did not make any negative comments but the mere asking of the question is an indicator that this is not, in our culture, a “normal” set up. For our children who have been bed sharing since birth it is as familiar as rain in Seattle.

Now back to what prompted this tirade. I’m going to answer those questions that were not posed to me and that no one asked my opinion on. Ha! It’s really great having a blog.

1. “How is this good for the kids?”.

Well, really how is this not good for the kids? During our year of travel our children spent every single day with both of their parents. (Ok, there were two or three days where we were apart, but really, that’s it). This is some serious family time. I’ll be honest with you. There have been more than a couple of people who have said flat out that they could not do what we were doing. And by “could not” they meant “would not want to”. It’s a lot of time to spend with your kids. Fair enough. I’ve already confessed that there were days where I came close to giving my kids away to the nicest looking old lady in the vicinity. But not many could argue that an abundance of quality time with Mom and Dad is a bad thing for small children.

Besides the family time our children spent nearly every day outside. More than a few days they were outside pretty much all day… from dawn to dusk exploring, digging, building boats from driftwood and mud, hiking, eating, reading, resting, riding bikes, designing fairy houses, stomping in puddles… I could go on but you get the point. Whatever your views are on the combination of kids, TV and video games, it is unlikely, I think, that anyone would suggest that more time outside is bad for kids.

While we traveled, the kids were exposed to and learned a fair amount of a new language. They tried new foods, made new friends and had more new experiences than we can count. Please tell me if I’m missing something but aren’t these all good things?

2. “Don’t they need stability and to have the opportunity to have long lasting friendships, a good education, the ability to participate in extra curricular things that interest them, and have a “normal” life?”

Yes, of course children need stability. But don’t kid yourself. Stability doesn’t come from staying in one place. It comes from having a continuous (stable) adult presence in their lives – people who they can count on.

Interestingly, what both Randy and I discovered during our travels is that there was a direct correlation between the ability of our children to be comfortable, even thriving during the frequent transitions of travel and our own mental state. In other words, if the parents were calm, going with the flow and dealing well with challenges, then the kids were happy as clams. When we became stressed, angry or upset, the kids were unsettled and their behavior became difficult. Hummmm.

Now as for the question of a good education. Please.

I’ll admit, we didn’t do the best job of sitting down with our 1st grade workbooks. As a result, Bodhi may be a little behind the 8 ball on things like reading, addition and subtraction. We’re playing catch up this summer. But can you blame us? Who’d want to sit and do repetitive worksheets when they could be out studying natural sciences in Alaska, learning a language in Peru or experiencing marine biology in Mexico? Let’s see, shall we sit and do this ditto sheet or go out and learn what sea turtles eat while swimming with them in their natural habitat?

Travel is the best education, plain and simple. What you can learn by traveling cannot be taught in a classroom. There is no substitute. Reading, writing and math are important too, of course, and you may have to put in your time with the workbooks to get there. But a good education does not require 4 walls and a desk. One only needs a passion for life long learning. If the parents have it, no doubt it will rub off on the kids. What Bodhi missed in the realm of 1st grade academia he more than made up for with a powerful curiosity and a love of learning new things that will serve him well in whatever he decides to pursue in life. And, I’m betting he is still going to learn to read.

Extracurricular activities?

Bodhi missed the T ball season this spring. I don’t think he even noticed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of extracurricular activities (as long as there aren’t too many all at once). Sports are good for kids. But let’s look at the definition of extracurricular activities. They are “activities performed by students that fall outside the realm of the normal curriculum of school education.” Hello? Doesn’t that pretty much describe every single activity that Bodhi and Joshua did in the last year? I rest my case.

I do have to capitulate on one point – the one regarding lasting friendships. Once kids reach a certain age I do think they yearn for friendships. Yet I think of military families who are required to move every 3 years. It doesn’t take long for kids to make friends. They don’t go through the adult rigamarole of niceties and warming up. They dive right in. They find their tribe just like we do. We spent 3 months in Huaraz, Peru. We all made friends there. We have friends there. If we were traveling indefinitely, we would have stayed longer and I think that’s just how it goes in life. You make friends and you move through life. Some of them stick around and some of them become Facebook friends. 🙂

And now for the last question.

3. “Do you fear that they will have a hard time as adults because of missed opportunities in a “normal” life?”

This circles us back nicely don’t you think? What is normal? What is normal for you may not be normal for me. You get up early? Well I don’t. See?

Going off in search of a missing cow, up a valley in the rain only to find said cow dead, butcher dead cow, haul cow parts back to house on donkeys and hang cow meat from the rafters of the house to dry would most certainly NOT be a normal occurrence for anyone reading this post. Yet for our friends Nancy and Carlos who live near Yurak Yacu in Peru, this sort of thing doesn’t happen every day but it is by no means beyond the realm of normal.

I could write a book on the things I saw and experienced in the last year that could not be considered normal by middle class, North American, city dwelling standards. That is the point here isn’t it. Normal exists only as a state of mind. It is a perception of familiarity that brings comfort to those unaware of the possibility of stepping outside of these restrictive boundaries.

It’s a big world out there with all kinds of normal to be seen and experienced. What’s stopping you?

We look sort of normal don’t we? Moments after arriving “home”.

Note: If you are interested in reading more about the adventures of the Denning family (those crazy people I mentioned above) you can find them here.
Godspeed Dennings. You are my heros!

Posted by: stacylynn12 | June 10, 2012

In the Land of Water



When it comes right down to it, on planet Earth, water is really the boss. One could argue the sun is top dog but life depends on both and well, the sun has a much more impressive track record for reliability. Water, not so much.

The earth is comprised of approximately 71 % water. The human body is up to 60 % water.

Significant lack of water has contributed to catastrophic drought and famine throughout history that has killed millions of people worldwide. For example, though statistics on human life loss in recent African famines is difficult to find, several sources estimate that 29,000 children under the age of 5 died last year in the Horn of Africa famine and over a million people died in the Ethiopian famine in the 1980’s.

In India, I once saw a woman walking across the desert carrying two buckets of water. I was told her water source was over a mile away. Those two buckets had to meet her family’s need for water for a whole day. My family probably uses that much water before breakfast.

In 2004 in southeast Asia, an enormous wall of water or more correctly known as a tsunami, killed an estimated 228,000 people.

If climate change scientists are to be believed, rising sea levels threaten an estimated 600 million people living in coastal areas of the world.

Out of our estimated global population of 7 billion people, 884 million of us lack access to clean water.

One could argue that water, in the form of ice, glaciers and floods has been a more significant force in shaping the 4+ billion years of the earth’s history than anything else.

That’s a powerful force.

In our recent travels in the western US we have had the unique experience of observing the relationship of water to land. In the desert, the lack of precipitation has caused the plant and animal kingdoms to evolve with unique adaptations that deal with the minimal amount of water available. We came to count on being dry. Our rain jackets were buried in the recesses of our van. We did not even consider taking them on hikes… an unthinkable mistake where we are from. The one time in 4 weeks when dark clouds rolled by overhead, dropped exactly 7 sprinkles of rain on us and caused us to abort our slot canyon hike, I felt incensed. How dare it rain on us?

Dry can be really nice but it has it’s downsides too. Scaly, cracked skin; perpetual, dusty conditions; landscapes that occasionally feel desolate and the need to always make sure you have enough water in your possession for the adventure at hand. You can never be sure there will be water available in the desert.

After a month of feeling the effects of the lack of water, we emerged in a new land. The Land of Water. We drove north out of Utah and into Wyoming. We’d decided to visit the Wind River Range, a range of the Rocky Mountains. In “the Winds” towering granitic peaks and serene, crystal clear alpine lakes form the backdrop for the healthy populations of grizzlies, black bear, moose, elk and pronghorn who live there. I’d visited the Winds twice before, once with Randy and once with my friend Becky. Both were climbing trips. The Winds are famous for spectacular alpine rock climbing.

We camped our first night in a beautiful site overlooking Fremont Lake. It was here I started thinking about water. The lake rippled gently under a soft breeze. There was so much green vegetation. The land felt alive.

We decided to do a backpacking trip into the northern Winds. We geared up with maps and food and drove a horrible washboarded, potholed, dirt road for almost two hours to the trailhead. Upon arrival we found the campground closed. Shit. I mean, shoot. The kids have been busting us on this one recently. We were forced to camp in the parking lot at the trailhead, which really wasn’t so bad. We had an incredible view into the mountains where we would be hiking the next morning. Everyone was excited.

Green River Lake and the Wind River mountains. We’d planned to camp in the valley near Flat Top mountain.

As the sun sank, the temperature dropped. Unlike in the desert where sunset is a welcome transition, in northern Wyoming at 8,000 feet it becomes freak’in cold. Everyone snuggled into their sleeping bags and went to sleep.

Sometime around 3am is when I heard it. The high pitched tink, tink, tinkling of raindrops on the roof of our van. Shhi-oot. I hoped it would pass… just a shower… but we woke up to dark skies. It wasn’t raining but it was bitter cold – close to freezing – and the forecast was for it to get colder. We thought we could deal with cold but the threatening skies and the possible combination of rain or snow and cold was more than we wanted to subject ourselves to. We packed up the van and feeling a bit dejected, bumped our way back down that horrible road to the town of Pinedale where we wallowed a bit in some yummy pizza and beer.

As we drove towards Jackson Hole, snow flurries swirled around the van reminding us that we were no longer in the desert. We discussed what to do. Our days on the road were dwindling and we wanted to make the most of our time. We couldn’t afford to sit in a hotel room waiting for the weather to improve. I discovered that we could rent a tent-cabin in Grand Teton National Park… basically a canvas tent with two solid walls and the key selling point…a wood stove inside.

It may not look like much but it was warm inside!

As I cooked dinner on our camp stove outside the cabin, snowflakes continued to fall. Mostly light and intermittent but occasionally picking up in intensity to a full fledged flurry. I woke up that night, climbed out of my bunk and stoked the fire, thankful for the warmth and reminded once again that we were no longer in the desert.

In the morning not much had changed. We gave up hoping for a backpacking trip and decided instead to make our way through Yellowstone. Things got even more wintery as we drove north. The park had received a few inches of new snow that morning.

Yellowstone National Park

We stopped to learn a bit about the park’s geysers and volcanic activity and to watch Old Faithful do her thing. It continued to rain. We searched for wildlife as we drove – for grizzlies, elk and bison and remembering the abundant wildlife we had seen during our 2 months in Alaska. Most of the animals seemed to be hiding from the cold as well.

We did see a nice herd of elk across a river and were treated to some bison, up close and personal, who literally walked around our van as we were parked in a pull out. A lot of fuzzy, cute babies and mamas. Bodhi counted 22 animals.

After the bison sighting, we drove northwest out of the park with our sights set on a warm, wind and rain-free environment near Butte, Montana. We would be camping in a hotel room tonight.

Thankfully, the morning dawned warm and clear. We drove as far as Coeur d’Alene, Idaho and camped for the night. The next day we crossed the state line into Washington. We would have celebrated with a little honk and a cheer but Bessie’s horn is broken. It all started back in Missouri when at the most inopportune times, she’d spontaneously start loudly and uncontrollably toot-tooting. Like the night we pulled in to a campground late and everyone else was asleep. At least they were until the Earlywines showed up in their crazy honking van. Then there was the small town we drove through and just as we were passing a soccer field filled with pint sized players and their adoring family fans, Bessie decides to go on another honking rampage. You’d think the Queen of England was driving by the way everyone stopped and stared. After that Randy cut the wires.

Anyway… we’re home. Back in Leavenworth, Washington at 8 mile campground. The opening photo of this post is the Icicle Creek which is currently raging wildly. It’s not officially home I guess. We’ve got another 120 miles to be officially “home”. But Randy and I have spent enough time in the Icicle – rock climbing, backpacking, teaching classes with the Washington Alpine Club and camping with our kids that it feels like home.

The truth is, I felt at home in almost every place we traveled to. I think maybe this is one of the indicators they use when diagnosing the wanderlust affliction.

Tomorrow we will pack up the van one last time and head over Steven’s Pass. We’ll hit I-5 and head south until we get to the 145th St. exit. We will wind our way through the neighborhoods until we pull into our driveway. And then, my friends, it will all be over. Or maybe… it will be just the beginning.

Sources and interesting articles on water related issues…

A few more photos…

Joshua at Fremont Lake, Wind River Range, Wyoming

Wildflowers in the Winds

Randy and Josh fly a kite in the Winds

Old Faithful

Bodhi launches a ship in the Green River at Dinosaur National Monument. The boys made a whole fleet.

Bison in Yellowstone National Park

Junior Ranger badges.

Travel amulets… a family project to reflect on and remind us of our “Year in the World”.

Posted by: stacylynn12 | June 2, 2012

Canyon Country

“These days away from the city have been the happiest of my life… It has all been a beautiful dream, sometimes tranquil, sometimes fantastic and with enough pain and tragedy to make the delights possible by contrast”. ~ Everett Ruess


A desert, according to the American Heritage Dictionary, is “a region rendered barren or partially barren by environmental extremes”. This does not seem entirely correct to me. For sure every desert that I have ever spent time in has been a land of extremes. A few places have indeed been quite barren but most have teemed with subtle but strong forces of life. The very nature of this land of contrasts all but ensures that one slows down and carefully observes these sublime surroundings.

I find the desert to be at times viciously harsh and at others utterly peaceful. The heat of a desert day can be oppressive and relentless, forcing mortal creatures to desperately seek shade and reducing humans to sluggish grumps. As the sun sinks below the expansive horizon, the temperature drops and the dark sky slowly fills with a million stars.

The Colorado Plateau, a large geographic region that encompasses much of the Four Corners area of the southwest, is characterized by pinyon – juniper forests, red rock canyons, mesas, striking cliffs, sweet sagebrush and of course an intense dryness. I swear my skin is beginning to grow scales. This place is a geologist’s dreamland; the secrets of millions of years lie hidden in the strata of the landscape.

We begin our desert adventure in Mesa Verde, Colorado. The cliff dwelling ruins are spectacular and we enjoy wandering back in time and imagining what life might have been like for the Ancestral Puebloan people who inhabited these lands long ago. The highlight of our time in this park however comes in the form of a present time, natural phenomenon… the Annular Solar Eclipse.

An annular eclipse occurs when the Moon passes between the Earth and the Sun, totally or partially obscuring the Sun for us Earthlings; and when the Moon’s apparent diameter is smaller than the Sun, causing the Sun to look like a ring. We join a ranger led program and are lucky enough to view the eclipse and it’s “ring of fire” with special viewing glasses and a very cool, high tech solar scope. It is spectacularly awe inspiring.

Cliff Palace at Mesa Verde National Park

Climbing steep ladders to the cliff dwellings, Mesa Verde

Canyonlands National Park is next on our desert tour. The kids work hard and earn their 5th Junior Ranger badge. They are pleased as punch with themselves. The weather is scorching. 103 on one thermometer. Thankfully it cools to a chilly 85 in the next couple of days and we do a hike… the kids experiencing their first slot canyons. They are eager for more.

We travel to the San Rafael Swell and arrive late in the day. This is a spectacular and much less well known or visited part of the southern Utah desert. Randy and I have visited this area on two previous occasions and we are drawn back again to its magic. We drive out a dusty, dirt road to a sweet “backcountry” campsite.

The next day we have a romping good time in Little Wild Horse Canyon. The kids oooh and ahhh as we enter the twisting, narrow slots and wind our way through this amazing landscape. “This is awesome!” and “This is sooooo amazing!” are exclaimed repeatedly by kids and adults alike.

Joshua delights in the slots of Little Wild Horse Canyon

Back in camp, the lunar landscape is eerily calm. I feel certain this is what the moon must look and feel like. There is not a hint of a breeze. Our entire world is absolutely still. There are no birds singing or crickets chirping. No bugs buzzing. No human voices, vehicles or other noises common in our modern world. The deafening silence is haunting. Until of course one of our kids scream.

We go to bed under starry skies. The morning dawns a different day. The tranquil silence is broken by strong winds that whip the surrounding desert into a dust filled frenzy. We break camp, decide to brave the wind and head to Ding and Dang, hoping it will be calmer in the canyons. This is a hike we have done before… pre kids… and we loved it. Now with our two hearty hikers in tow it is the perfect trip and we are so excited. It’s a 5 mile loop, up one canyon and down the other and the best part about it is that they are both filled with obstacles! Obstacles are fun. They are obstructions in the narrow canyons that one has to navigate by climbing up, down, around or over. With our rock climbing skills and our experience on the previous trip we are certain we can do it safely with the kids and they are thrilled at the idea of conquering the obstacles.

As we head into Ding Canyon the wind abates a bit but now and again rears its gusty head and we are forced to squint and hunker down or get eyes and mouths full of dusty sand. Worse than the dust though are the ominous clouds overhead. We are watching them closely and they seem to be changing direction every 5 minutes. We cannot figure out the weather pattern but we know that dark clouds and slot canyons don’t mix. This is flash flood country. If a sudden unexpected storm arrives, a slot canyon can quickly become a death trap as water rushes through them taking out everything in it’s path. We keep watching the sky as we hike the beautiful wash leading us toward the narrows. We encounter our first obstacle and the kids jump for joy. This stuff is enough to make a kid out of anyone.

As we approach the first slots we stop to have a family pow wow. The skies have darkened and we have even felt a few rain drops. It’s a brilliant opportunity for a lesson in risk assessment and decision making… critical skills for outdoor adventurers and well, life in general really. We look at the clouds trying to assess which way the storm is moving. We study the terrain looking for escape routes should a flash flood happen but as we are about to enter a slot canyon, 5 – 6 feet wide and over 100 feet tall, there are none.

We hem and haw, talk about about how a serious thunderstorm is unlikely but still possible and about how much we all want to go on. In the end we decide not to. It’s hard to miss this opportunity but it seems prudent. We hope someday our kids might remember this little impromptu lesson and make a similar decision. It could save their lives.

Disappointed, we trudge back to the car. The winds have increased and dusty sand has found its way into our ears, eyes, noses and other places you probably wouldn’t imagine. We need a respite so we decide to head into Hanksville, the closest town, and see if there are any hotel rooms available for the night. We are in luck. The Hanksville Inn has two rooms left. We go inside, shut the door and breath a dirt free sigh of relief.

Dust storm!

The next day we are showered and ready to brave the desert once again. The wind storm has passed and calm has returned to the land.

We drive south a bit to another desert gem… the Grand Staircase – Escalante National Monument, or “Escalante” for short. In a bold political move, President Bill Clinton declared this area a National Monument in 1996. Randy and I were fortunate enough to coincidently be there during this historic declaration. Unfortunately, we didn’t see Mr. President as he made the announcement from the Grand Canyon. Hmmm…

Escalante is one of those places one must work to enjoy. There are no roadside overlooks or easy paved trails. Hell, there are barely any paved roads in the Monument. It feels raw and wild.

My sister, Jennifer and her hubby Geoff just happen to be traveling for a week in southern Utah too. Despite no cell phone reception and spotty Internet, we manage to concoct a plan to meet up in the middle of nowhere. They share one of their favorite “top secret” “backcountry” camping spots with us and show us some very cool dinosaur tracks they discovered years ago.

Dino track!

After a short and sweet visit with Auntie Jen and Uncle Geoff we dive further into Escalante and explore a part of the park we haven’t visited before. We make another dusty drive down a rough dirt road where Bessie’s hoosh-bahs are put to the test. The Bull Valley Gorge hike rewards us with stunning slots and challenging obstacles. Yahoo!

Josh in Bull Valley Gorge

Obstacle! Randy and I climb up and over while we stuff the kids through the small crack on the lower right side of the top boulder.

We spend the night in Kodachrome State Park, just outside of the Monument. After 5 nights of primitive camping the paved campground with picnic tables and bathrooms with flush toilets seems like utter luxury.

From there it’s on to Bryce Canyon NP then Zion NP. While these places are both incredible in their natural beauty, we are slightly overwhelmed by the crowds. We’ve been excited for weeks to hike in the famous Zion Narrows but there are so many people it feels a bit more like a Memorial Day parade than a hike in a wild and natural place. It is a stark reminder that it is all too easy to love our wild places to death and, even more pertinent for us at the moment… that we are going back to the city.

One of the many blessings we have received over the course of this year away is the extraordinary amount of time we have spent outside. In the almost 6 months that we camped our way across Alaska, Canada and the “Lower 48” (which is how you must refer to it once you have been in Alaska), we spent only a handful of nights in hotels. We also stayed with our families for approximately a month of that time so all in all we camped for somewhere around 140 nights. Much of our overseas time was spent out of doors as well. The tropics lend themselves to outdoor living. We cooked, cleaned, played, sat, studied and often slept outside. We observed the skies and tuned into the cycles of the moon. We felt the seasons change. It wasn’t always pleasant. There was cold and rain, bugs, heat, humidity and dirt. Sometimes I wanted the sanctity of my indoor home. Every once in a while I even wished for air conditioning. But we had none of that. And really, I’m glad. It is all too much time we spend indoors in our city life. We are too removed, too insulated from the natural world.

In the age of Richard Louv’s Nature Deficit Disorder and the No Child Left Inside campaign it’s easy to see that the problem has grown immensely. One study I glanced at showed that kids spend on average only minutes each day in outdoor, unstructured play but hours in front of a screen. Our travels and time spent out of doors has reinforced my already strong belief that nature and spending time in it is an integral component in raising healthy, creative, critical thinkers.

It’s not always easy to describe and often impossible to quantify but the positive effects are nonetheless real. I see nature’s influence in my children’s drawings, in their language, in the questions they ask. I see them riding their bikes, hiking on trails and swimming in lakes and rivers and I know their bodies are benefiting from nature. They are not the only ones who benefit.

Today is my 41st birthday. I awoke in Zion National Park. It is by no means a wilderness experience. The campground is bustling with people and cars zoom by on the road just a few hundred feet away. But I sit outside, drinking the coffee my husband made me while my children are intently focused on making birthday cards. I watch the light change as the sun crests over the brilliant towering, red rocks and I am mesmerized by the trees. The breeze and the sunlight have transformed the leaves into a million shimmering, dancing reminders of the peace and calm that exists, if only we can get outside to see it.

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.” ~ John Muir

Bessie’s wild campsite in the San Rafael Swell, Utah

Life in camp

“I have not tired of the wilderness; rather I enjoy its beauty and the vagrant life I lead, more keenly all the time. I prefer the saddle to the streetcar and star-sprinkled sky to a roof, the obscure and difficult trail, leading into the unknown to any paved highway, and the deep peace of the wild to the discontent bred by cities.” ~ E. Ruess

Little Wild Horse Canyon

Little Wild Horse Canyon

Cottonwood in the Wash, Little Wild Horse Canyon

“I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.” ~ John Muir

Josh in Canyonlands National Park

The desert is hard on bike tires… Randy doing repairs after 4 flat tires caused by desert thorns.

Baby Robins!

Romping in Deer Creek – Escalante, Utah

Siesta in the desert heat

Secret spot in Escalante

“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is necessity; that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life.” ~ John Muir

Biking the roads of Kodachrome State Park… Randy and I drive the “Sag Wagon”.

Josh in Little Wild Horse Canyon

Bodhi in Bull Valley Gorge

Escalante roads

Bryce Canyon Hoodoos

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

Bryce Canyon National Park

The Zion Narrows

Hoards of hikers in the Zion Narrows

Fun in the Zion Narrows

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