Maya, Dixie, and Max cooling off in the lake of Island Pond, Vermont
Maya is still learning how to swim – awkwardly
Max LOVES retrieving balls – ashore and in the water
Maya, relaxing in the sand
Did I mention that Max is eager to play ball, all…the…time?
Practice makes perfect!
Wet and cooled off, but done playing with the ball
Just because I love sunsets, with or without dogs…
Until next time…
This is my contribution to this week’s (mostly) Wordless Wednesday.
We spotted a groundhog in the back yard.
Keeping an eye on her flock.
A family with five adolescents… and more individuals in the front yard. So cute!
Maya smells the groundhogs. They hide in tunnels behind the rocks of the retaining walls.
A couple of weeks ago, I shared some of our human encounters in Florida this past winter. Mark and I (and Maya) enjoy meeting old and new friends, but when it comes to my personal happiness level, animal observations and interactions – especially in the wild – always make me smile! Here are some of the creatures we came across on our walks.
Gopher tortoise
Jellyfish on the beach in Marineland
If you are a regular reader, you will probably remember most of our journey through 2019. If you are new to our site, I invite you to browse and click around a bit for stories and photos about our past adventures. The links in this post give you a glimpse into some of those experiences.
Driving part of historic route 66, AZ
January
Mark and I explored the Borrego Springs area in the California desert, flew to Newburyport, Massachusetts to see doctors, friends, and family, and did a short repeat house sit in San Diego.
Why East?
After almost three years of house sitting and van living “out West”, it is time to leave our most favorite area of the United States and spend the summer and fall “back East”. We both have doctors’ appointments, my citizenship interview happens in August, and Mark’s aging parents can use help. Also, our van has never been to its place of registration and family and friends can’t wait to meet our newest crew member, Maya. From our home base in Massachusetts, we hope to explore the Maritimes in Canada as well.
(Hover over the photos below or click on them to read the captions.)
The Art of Boondocking
If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you know Mark and I rarely pay for camping, which is reflected in our monthly expense reports. This means we practice the art of boondocking, also called dry camping, wild camping, and sometimes urban camping (in cities), without a fee involved: we park our camper van for one night or more on BLM land, National Forest land, or areas where this is allowed.
The Plan
Things don’t always go as planned. Not that we plan often. But after our exhausting house sit in Albuquerque, the idea was to spend a couple of days at a quiet, free campground in El Malpais National Monument, drive to Canyon de Chelly to spend a day hiking and sightseeing, move to the Hopi Reservation in Navajo Nation for an affordable tour and a free night at the Cultural Center, and visit the North Rim of Grand Canyon National Park. That park opens on May 15th every year and—reputedly—has smaller crowds than the well-trotted South Rim. Our temporary end destination would be Kanab, Utah to volunteer at the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary for two weeks. (Click on or hover over the photos to read the captions.)
Panorama from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon
Albuquerque, NM
But… two important packages—to fix an engine problem in Zesty—refused to arrive as scheduled, before our departure from Albuquerque. Mark did all he could to reroute them to Kanab. Everything seemed in order; we left for some rest in El Malpais, an hour and a half west of the city. Luckily, we picked up a cell signal with AT&T there (we never did with our previous carrier T-Mobile). After a cold yet peaceful night, both packages were to be delivered at our pet sitting address, that Saturday. In awful weather, we returned to the house. The USPS parcel had arrived by 11am, but we waited for the UPS package until 4:30pm; it was the last stop on his route! We drove until 7:30pm to make a little bit of headway in the right direction and “urban camped” in Gallup, NM. Detour: three hours.
Lessons learned: Don’t believe everything is in order, until it actually is! And, don’t venture too far away if packages are “in transit”.
Canyon de Chelly (pronounced Canyon de Shay), AZ
One of the most rewarding experiences of having no expectations is arriving at a new destination and being awed. We rekindled with that feeling we discovered in Bryce Canyon and Arches National Parks last year, in Canyon de Chelly National Monument, Navajo Nation, Arizona. This park is free! Staring into the canyon the first time, we found vertical walls, branched off side canyons, a meandering river, and a lush valley.
Canyon de Chelly NM
As Mark and I wrap up our five-week house sit in Albuquerque, New Mexico, it is more than time for me to wrap up my blog posts about our explorations in Zesty before that.
What follows is a series of snapshots of fascinating areas, which didn’t make it in previous posts. Northern Arizona and Southern Utah—it was often not clear in which state we were hiking, camping, or sightseeing—have so much to offer in terms of natural beauty (and an animal sanctuary) that we are returning soon.
Ever since seeing photos of Monument Valley (was it on a calendar, a poster, in a guide book?) years ago, I’ve wanted to visit this Tribal Park in Navajo Nation. So, when Mark and I left Southwestern Utah to drive to a house sit in Albuquerque, New Mexico, we decided to make the detour and explore this park on the Utah-Arizona border. We read that the 17-mile loop drive is in horrible condition and that biking is the best way to see and experience the sites. Perfect! We’d taken Zesty on enough rocky roads lately.
“Will you try to go to The Wave when you’re there,” fellow travelers kept asking us as they learned about our plans to visit the Lake Powel area in Northern Arizona. Mark and I had never heard about it, so said, “Maybe.” We rarely plan and certainly not weeks ahead of time. We knew the surroundings of the lake were pretty from Ingrid’s blog and that was it.
When a “Good luck!” followed, we wondered why luck is involved to hike to a sandstone formation. Apparently, there is a lottery involved. “Over 100 people a day apply,” a new friend told us. Hard to believe and it was still too cold to head north, so we kept The Wave in the back of our mind. As more and more people either raved about this destination or wished they could have hiked there, it was time for a quick Google search.
When Mark and I crossed the border into Oregon mid-October, we were welcomed with blue skies and friendly smiles. A tad different from the Olympic Peninsula. An Indian summer had arrived and the outdoors was calling. Before heading into nature again, Mark and I stopped in Portland. We met up with a dear friend we had last seen in Luperon, Dominican Republic, ten years ago. It was another reunion that will make it into a separate blog. As a matter of fact, we reconnected with three sets of friends in this state. I ought to dedicate my next post to all the beautiful friendships we experienced while on the road these last four months.
Portland
The biggest, most vibrant city in Oregon is not its capital. That honor belongs to Salem, which we would visit with friends later on. In Portland, we succumbed to urban camping. We had read about a 24-hour parking lot in the funky Alberta neighborhood, NE of the city center, where one could “settle” for $1.50 a day. This small piece of land, the size of a parking spot, became our home for a couple of days.
Our home base for a couple of days
We explored the popular bar and restaurant scene of Alberta on foot.
We rode our bikes across the Willamette River into the city center to soak up the vibe along the waterfront park (with its many homeless people), downtown and in Washington park.
And then, we had three days left, before we would meet good friends in Monmouth, near Salem. The city life (and its noise) wasn’t very accommodating to our wallets and ears, so east we headed in our camper van, towards the town of Hood River.
The Columbia River Delta
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