Olive Oil You… say that out loud and you’ll realize phonetically this kinda sounds like “I love all of you” … if you say it with an accent. Get it? Ba-dahm-pum. Sorry, I am clearly not a comedian but I thought that was a cute way to title this post about the time we stayed overnight at an olive oil ranch, which was a super cool experience. And I do love all of you, my dear readers!

Anyhoo…this post is about the olive oil ranch, and more.

First, Happy May Day! I will leave you some flowers at the bottom of this post…

After our adventures on curvy roads from Oregon into Northern California, but before the olive oil farm, we stopped in Mendocino, California, a picturesque seaside town about three or four hours north of San Francisco. It was one of my mother’s favorite places to visit, and one of the last trips she took with my father before she passed away. To set our Mendocino visit up properly I need to go back in time, to 2010, for a moment.

Mom loved the succulents and wildflowers that bloomed along Mendocino’s high cliffs towering above the rocky, irregular shoreline. She loved the little shops in the town filled with art, home decor, and enchanting gift shops (Mom was a great gift giver). She loved the salty air, blue skies, “decadent” (her word) sunsets, and the evening fog that turned hot sunny days into evenings perfect for a roaring fire and a cup of tea. She’d only been there a handful of times, but she always said it was Heaven on Earth.

Shortly after her death in 2010, I visited a shaman to help me process everything I was feeling. After a brief conversation, she told me to lie on a table. I was fully clothed, but she wrapped me in a few heavy blankets and covered my eyes with a nice smelling sachet. Then she began chanting and I could feel a gentle breeze from the eagle feather she waved above me as she danced and sang around the table where I lay.

Once I was fully relaxed, she asked me if I had lost someone recently. I said yes. She asked if it was a woman. I said yes, and told her my mom had recently passed away. She chanted some more and then explained that my mother’s spirit was at a way-station before going on to the great beyond of whatever came next. The way-station was a place of celebration, and my mother was experiencing a peace that had eluded her during much of her life. I hadn’t told the shaman anything about my family or my mom, so this felt meaningful to me because it aligned with reality more deeply than any stranger could possibly know.

Then the shaman described the way-station as being perched high on a cliff looking out towards the ocean. She said Mom was with many people she loved, from many lives before, and she was very happy. In my mind’s eye I saw my mom in a sundress holding a pretty cocktail standing on a lawn in front of a white house with a giant wrap around porch overlooking the Mendocino cliffs. She was with a group of smiling laughing people. Of course my mother’s afterlife involved a way-station there! It made sense. It felt right.

So it also made sense, ten years later in 2020, for Alex and I to be sure to visit Mendocino in Joy. It was just a quick stop, because that evening we were to see my sister in the Napa Valley area. We had lunch at a cute outdoor pizza place, did a mini grocery run, and went for a short walk along a cliffside trail. Standing on one of the points I said a little prayer to my mom, letting her know I was doing great and wishing her continued peace and happiness, wherever she was now.

There are two ways to drive south from Mendocino to the Napa Valley. You can stay on the coast which would take at least five or six hours towing an RV, and be very curvy. Been there, done that. 🤪 Or you can cut inland via Highway 128 through the Navarro River Redwoods State Park and get there in about three hours. You can guess which route we took.

Redwood giants line the first part of the 128 like a tunnel of trees for miles, and it’s truly stunning. When you emerge from the forest you find yourself weaving and bobbing through the Anderson Valley, an AVA famous for its pinot noir and chardonnay grapes. The drive offers quite an ecological transition in a short span of time and I don’t know many other places in the world where that’s possible.

In Napa we stayed in an RV campground where they hold fairs and music events like BottleRock. It’s pretty bare bones and feels like what it is – a parking lot. But most people don’t go there for the campground. They’re there to go wine tasting, shop, and experience wellness spas up and down the Napa and Sonoma Valleys.

We were there to visit with my sister because we hadn’t seen her since before COVID. However this was still the days of wearing masks and sitting six feet apart, so unfortunately I don’t have any pictures to share of our time with her. But this gives you an idea of what a no frills RV campground experience can be like.

After Napa we were headed to Pismo Beach via the 101. However this wasn’t a race, and we had decided early on to try to keep our drives from one place to the next in the five hour range whenever possible. Because of this self-imposed rule of thumb, we had planned a one night stay midway at an olive oil ranch.

We found the Mill at 43 Ranch through something called Harvest Hosts, which is a member-based app that connects campers with small businesses like farms, breweries, wineries, and golf courses with room for RVs to park. There are usually no hook ups for power, water or sewer, but it’s free. In exchange, the businesses invite you to either help out that day (e.g. milking cows, picking veggies) or at least buy some of their products. This was our first Harvest Host experience and we weren’t sure what to expect.

We arrived around 4pm, and no one was there to greet us. However the app gave instructions for where to park, which was just in front of a large barn across from an olive grove. Alex went to work leveling the Airstream and setting up his Blackstone grill for cooking dinner later, while I got some pre-dinner snacks of cheese and crackers and wine ready for us.

Just as Alex sat down with me to imbibe, relax, and enjoy the view, the owners arrived and invited us into the barn for a tour of their facilities. We were all in! I put the snacks away and we followed them inside where they shared the history of their family and how they made olive oil. Then they gave us a tasting. Overall, they spent about an hour with us, and their passion for their work showed. It was such a special and unexpected treat. And of course we bought a bunch of olive oil.

As they were about to head to their home just up the hill, their beekeeper arrived to deliver the bees they ordered. And that’s when I realized I was dressed like a beekeeper! 😅 🐝

I hope you’re having fun reading these stories about our life in the Airstream. If you have any questions, ask away in the comments!

Olive Oil You!

If this post gets cut off in your email, you can read it (and any Briefly content) online. This post probably will because I’ve included a video tour of Joy at the end:

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When you’re cruising down the road at 65-70mph, or sometimes even under 20mph, things can get a little wonky inside an Airstream. It’s important to batten down the hatches properly, inside and out. Part of why we bought an Airstream is for their well designed storage and good design in general. We watched many YouTube videos about how to securely store everything from food to clothes, tools, shoes, medical supplies, liquor, bikes, propane tanks, hoses, batteries…. etc. We even had a shotgun on board (that’s another story for later). We truly thought we were totally prepared and securely stored. Then this happened…

After our maiden voyage getting Joy home from the dealer in Michigan, we planned a much longer, multi-month trip that would take us down the California coast and into Arizona in search of warmer weather for the winter.

We set out from Vancouver, WA (ten miles north of Portland, Oregon) in mid-December 2020. The world was still shut down and everyone was still sheltering in place. We were very excited to shelter in place – in many, many places. Our Airstream, Joy, was going to be our little COVID-free bubble.

The morning of our grand departure we awoke to what is described in the Pacific Northwest as “an atmospheric river event.” In other words, it was extremely windy, raining very hard, and a lot. Sheets of rain. Nonstop. Buckets. We were getting out of there just in time!

We headed south on the I-5 to Drain (named after an early pioneer named Charles Drain, and coincidentally located in a river watershed), where we cut over to the Oregon coast via OR-38, a two-lane highway that runs westward alongside the Umpqua River. Our destination for the first night was a no frills casino parking lot near Coos Bay, Oregon. It didn’t need to be glampy, just convenient; we’d only be there one night because we were eager to get to sunny California.

As we drove, visibility was low, the wind was howling, and both the car and Joy were getting pushed around by Mother Nature who was in quite a mood that day. We may have also hyrdroplaned a few times, which is bad enough in a car, let alone towing a massive 7,000-pound trailer. Let’s just say being on the road in an Airstream has given us a new appreciation for truckers. Give the big rigs space! They/we are dealing with a lot of force and tonnage. It is not wise to cut right in front of us without turning on your blinker, spraying our windshield with gallons of water so we can’t see anything in front of us, including you! 🧐

Alex kept his cool, but I constantly checked my side mirror to make sure Joy was still there. She was, gently swaying merrily along, as if nothing phased her. But for us, it was a stressful six-hour drive that was supposed to only take four and a half hours. The RV-ers we watched on YouTube all said the same thing: when towing a trailer, speed is not your friend. There is no rush. Safety first. So we turned up the tunes and took it slow.

We arrived at the Mill Casino RV Park overlooking Coos Bay just as the rain slowed to a soft drizzle and the sun began to peek intermittently through the clouds. I headed inside Joy to heat up the chili I’d prepared the day before we left. Alex stayed outside to hook us up to power and make sure Joy was level. I began to set the table, grateful for arriving safely after such intense driving conditions and my foresight to have dinner already made.

But before I got very far into the reheating process, I suddenly heard Alex shout as if he was hurt.

“#$%@!&^%!!!!!!”

This triggered a new swell of fear in my gut and I dashed frantically outside, fully prepared to see blood and tears (I raised three boys; this was rote for me). Alex was fine, but our e-bikes’ cover was gone, apparently ripped away in the storm. I wonder where that bike cover is now. I hope someone found it and made good use of it, rather than it becoming litter or hurting a bird or animal.

I was relieved; Alex was fine! And though the cover was gone, the bikes looked wet, but fine! Despite appearances however, the electronics and digital screens on the bikes were possibly damaged, or could be if we didn’t find a solution, pronto. What if it rained tonight? Or tomorrow? We were both hungry and tired, but Alex said we needed a new bike cover right away. And luckily, there was a Walmart nearby.

Dinner was put on hold while he gallantly drove off to save the day, or night, or whatever. I love a man who takes care of business with proficiency and dedication. In the olden days this meant hunting a wild boar or stag. In modern times, sometimes it means a trip to a superstore. But the dedication and valor are the same in my book.

I turned the burner off and poured myself a glass of wine. Then I connected to the RV park’s wifi to check email. An hour or so later, as the sky shifted into a damp, purply dusk, Alex was back, the bikes were newly covered, and the chili was on the table! It’s all about teamwork.

We learned a few days later that one of the e-bike’s electronic panels was indeed ruined. We had to wait until we got to the Phoenix area many weeks later – where Lectric’s (the bike manufacturer) headquarters and shop was located – before we could fix that.

We also ended up losing that second bike cover on a perfectly sunny day a few days later. Alex was flummoxed. What was going on? He is very handy, and loves a good challenge. In fact I think solving problems is actually his happy place. This is a big reason why he loves the Airstream lifestyle. I am not handy and I couldn’t do this without him (nor would I want to). I would always be calling in professionals to help me. I love that my husband is handy, and fixes things with the kind of passion I have for writing Substack posts and shopping for shoes.

After much noodling and YouTubing he came up with what proved to be the best solution and still works to this day: a motorcycle cover AND a cargo net stretched over the top of that. (Remind me to tell you about the time when our entire bike rack fell off the back of Joy and we dragged the bikes and the rack over 100 feet on the freeway attached only by that cargo net...)

That first day on the I-5, OR-38, and Hwy 101, we hadn’t seen much scenery due to the weather. But the second day the sun was shining. That drive along the southern Oregon and northern California coastline was one of the most spectacular we’ve ever taken.

Highway 101 hugs the shoreline as one travels south. Dense evergreen forests rise steeply to the left and the Pacific ocean stretches far and wide to the right, and both are so close you can practically reach out and touch the pine and salt spray. It’s one of the wild edges of the world, interrupted only by a man-made strip of asphalt that looks like a zipper holding land and sea together. But that’s only an illusion of course. The ocean regularly tears away chunks of the highway, a stark reminder that seemingly solid things are often fleeting and easily destroyed. The landscape there demands an awareness to never take anything for granted.

I felt a sense of urgency to soak it all in, and a sense of gratitude for being able to witness such a place, and to have made it this far safely – even though we were only just beginning our journey. It felt supernatural, heavenly, unpredictable, and exciting.

Light feathery clouds adorned the robin’s-egg-blue sky above the deeper lapis blue of the ocean. Foamy waves exploded like champagne against huge jagged rock formations that seemed made for a scene from Game of Thrones. I half-expected to see a shirtless Poldark-type figure galloping along the water’s edge on a magnificent steed. Alex is allergic to horses, but knowing his original dream was to be out sailing on that ocean, I just reached over, held his hand, and squeezed.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” I told him.

“Me too,” he said with a big grin.

We stopped for lunch when we found a shoulder area wide enough for us to safely pull over and park. Best roadside lunch spot (and restroom) ever! Then we continued south, reveling in good music, good company, and beautiful scenery. This was exactly how we dreamed it would be!

Just over the Oregon-California border, after Eureka, the 101 turns inland. And a little while after that you come to Leggett, California, where you either stay heading inland southeast on the 101, or you turn southwest onto Highway 1 towards the ocean, cutting through a forested series of peaks and valleys… and hairpin turns… for 25 miles.

It turns out that stretch of Hwy 1 is one of the most notoriously twisty paved roads in California. Despite being only 25 miles, it typically takes at least an hour to drive it, as the speed limit is about 20 mph most of the way. There was often a mountain rising on one side, and a complete drop off on the other side. A good word to describe this road is “harrowing.”

To deal with the fear, we tuned into the Yacht Rock station on Sirius radio. We’d had enough Jason Mraz, Train, and Jack Johnson over on Coffee House. Plus I was getting a little car sick and a song about “banana pancakes” was not helping. We needed some Doobie Brothers, Ambrosia, and Christopher Cross. In case you’re unaware, “Yacht Rock” is a modern-day moniker for American “easy listening” “soft rock” music from the 1970’s. It took my back to my childhood when I trusted the grown ups in my life had it all figured out and everything would be okay. (Boy, was I wrong!)

Right or wrong, Yacht Rock helped make the drive feel groovy and smooth instead of petrifyingly deadly. Can you see now, per my post From Fear to Joy, why open ocean sailing would have been too much for me? But Cross’s song “Sailing” was so calming and joy inducing! Meanwhile, Joy just ambled and swayed dutifully behind us, in time with the music and the road’s curves. Turn your sound on for this video to see what I mean:

It was a beautiful moment when we finally turned the last corner and the ocean came back into view. Once again, danger was behind us and sunset was imminent as we pulled into our next stop, Westport Beach RV Camp, which is literally, on the beach.

Once we parked, Alex began doing his outside chores to get us settled in and I headed inside. I desperately needed to pee and I had to start getting dinner ready. But now it was my turn to shout (scream).

“#$%@!&^%!!!!!!”

It looked like there’d either been a massive earthquake or a family of raccoons had thrown a big party in there – maybe both. The drawer below the sink that held our pots and pans lay catawampus in the middle of the floor and the fridge door had swung wide open. Luckily there are little bars in front of all the refrigerator shelves that prevented everything from falling out. But a lone jar of pickled red onions was on its side by a stray pot lid in the bedroom. One of the overhead compartments was open and a bag of chips was under the table next to one of my hats. The paper towel roll (which I had forgotten to take off its holder on the wall) had completely unraveled. Even though Alex had taken it very slow, sometimes slower than the speed limit, it looked as if he’d driven the curves like an F1 circuit. Given the state of things, I remember being shocked that anything else had actually stayed in place.

I don’t recall what we ate for dinner than night. I do recall Alex figured out a way to jerry-rig the drawer back into place while I put everything else away. I also remember going for a walk together on the beach to watch the sun sink like a giant peach beyond the horizon.

The next morning, I revised my “inside departure check list” to include:

• Shove cushion between bench area and drawer (this was a “short term” fix we ended up using for years to keep that drawer shut when towing)

• Put bungee cords across fridge door and appliance cupboard (same)

• DON’T FORGET TO PUT AWAY THE PAPER TOWEL!!!!

Hopefully you can see now that securing storage is a very complex, sophisticated, technical process requiring a deep knowledge of physics and math. Just kidding. It comes down to basic common sense. 😵‍💫

Our next stop would be lunch in Mendocino before driving through the National Redwood Forest on our way to Sonoma (near Napa) to see my sister. From there we’d spend a night at an Olive Oil farm before getting to Pismo Beach, then Encino to see Alex’s son and our daughter-in-law for Christmas, then Bonelli Bluffs overlooking a reservoir just outside of LA where it snowed, and then onto… well… I’m not going to tell you any more stories in this post. You’ll just have to keep following along.

As an added bonus, however, I am including a video tour I made while we camped alongside the Colorado River a couple months later. It not only shows how pretty Joy is inside, but also how much storage she has. We’ve changed a few things since then. Subscribe to Briefly and/or keep checking in to see what happens next.

I filmed this video in 2021 on the shores of the Colorado River near Needles, California. This location sits right at the corner where California, Arizona, and Nevada meet. One side of the river is Pacific Time, the other is Central time. Our digital clocks (phones, computers, microwave) were very confused and kept changing time zones. I don’t know how anyone is ever on time for anything in that part of the world! Luckily, Alex had an analog watch. Because of course he did!

I hope you enjoyed this post as much as I enjoyed writing it. Part of why I’m telling these stories here is so we never forget them. And maybe someday when we’re gone, our kids and grandkids will read them. Remember to take it slow and enjoy the ride everyone. And when things get hairy, try listening to Yacht Rock.

P.S. Recently I found a DJ on IG and Spotify who is blending EDM and Yacht Rock… pretty cool mash up. 🎤 🎶 🎧 ⛵️

Peace and safe travels,

In my post last week, From Fear to Joy, I explained that although we started thinking about buying an RV in 2019, we didn’t order our Airstream until the spring of 2020, right as the world shut down due to the COVID pandemic. We named our Airstream “Joy,” in defiance of the fear engulfing the world. But “choosing joy” had become a theme in my life many years before the pandemic.

Today’s post is about our trip to Michigan to pick up Joy (our Airstream), and then our maiden voyage driving her back to Washington. But it is also a deeper dive into what joy (the feeling/mindset) is all about. My hope is that sharing stories about our journeys will spread joy into your lives. Perhaps these stories will make you smile and laugh. Perhaps they may also inspire you to embark on your own journey, whether it be taking a trip, or making a life change. Or perhaps you just enjoy fun stories (I have lots of other stories at Briefly here too.)

This post has more pictures than usual, so if it gets cut off in your email you can read it in full online:

Read this Story at Briefly

***

First, some thoughts about joy, the feeling/mindset…

In 2010, when I was in my early forties, my mother died at 66-years-old after a somewhat short-lived battle with cancer. She was told it was “smoldering” and that she could live 20 years by just taking a chemo pill. Then a few months later she was told she had only two weeks to live.

Parallel to that unexpected loss, and in part because of it, I decided to get divorced after 18 years of marriage. I thought life would get better, and it did eventually, but first it got a lot worse, and then it was a very mixed bag for a long time.

The ripple effects of those events in 2010 lasted years afterwards, across every aspect of my life, personally, professionally, and financially. It was messy, painful, brutal, confusing, and sad… yet also joyous, exciting, new, challenging, and freeing. I look back at my forties and realize, as Charles Dickens wrote in the opening line of his epic novel, A Tale of Two Cities, “it was the best of times, and the worst of times.” That’s the truncated quote many of us remember. But Dickens’s full sentence much more fully captures how I felt in my forties, and still sometimes feel now:

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way…”

Nothing in life is guaranteed or stays the same. You can live life looking through a lens of fear, or joy. If I’m being honest, I do both. I take after my mother and learned early to prepare for the worst. Some call this catastrophizing. Mom called it being a realist. But somewhere along the way I also learned to seek out “silver linings.” Clouds may block the sun, but the silver linings at the edge remind us the sun is still there. In the same way, joy is always there too. I am a worrier and a planner. But I am also a courageous risk taker. I see joy as a life raft, an invitation, an act of courage.

Choosing joy isn’t for the feint of heart. It requires not only courage, but also strength. It’s not about sticking your head in the sand and ignoring whatever shit show is going on. It is about staying present with the shit show, but not letting it take over your well being. It is about survival, but more importantly about the quality of survival. There is research that shows the more we practice choosing and feeling joy, the more joyous (and healthier physically and emotionally) we can be.

Joy isn’t always about big things. It can come from noticing flowers, petting your cat or dog, and relishing the smell of the air after a spring rain when the cherry blossoms are blooming. Joy can come from laughing so hard you pee your pants, or after the release of a good cry.

I see joy as a life raft, an invitation, an act of courage.

Often, in my worst moments of deepest despair I stop and am thankful for the awful sadness engulfing me. I knew then (and now) if I could/can feel that intensely sad, I could/can also feel that intensely joyous. It means I am alive! Living fully means feeling ALL the feelings. I don’t want to numb out of the pain, because then I might become numb to joy. Feelings are a gift. All of them. But we control which ones we let rules out lives. I have been beaten down by battles with fear and despair. But joy won the war.

In 2011 my sister and I took a trip together to just take time for joy. We were tired of feeling sad. One of the experiential things we did together on that trip was this version of a bungee jump (I don’t think I will ever be brave enough to bungee off a bridge or sky dive). She went first; I was too chicken. She survived, so I went for it. Sometimes we need others to lead the way, right?

I was so scared! And it was so fun! It was a leap of faith and joy all rolled into one. It is also how I have felt at certain times in my life when I’ve chosen change, taken a risk, and hoped for the best…

… like getting married again and then three years later choosing to live together in 280 square feet together for many months on the road during a global pandemic.

😱 🤪 😵‍💫 🤗

***

Now let’s fast forward from 2011 to 2020 and talk about Joy, the Airstream...

In 2020 the pandemic had catapulted all of us into survival mode – literally all human brains all over the world went into fight, flight or flee. I suppose in a way, by buying an Airstream, Alex and I fled. We would shelter in place, in many places. We ordered our Airstream that March from a dealer in Grand Rapids, Michigan who told us our rig would be ready for pick up in September. We could have had Joy delivered to us in Washington, but we wanted to drive cross country and get her ourselves. What else were we doing? We figured we could be out and back within three weeks, working remotely along the way.

This gave us six months, from March to September, to plan our escape. We organized and/or bought sheets, towels, kitchen items, tools, baskets, a first aid kit, headlamps, lanterns, chairs for outside, a portable fire pit, tarps, brooms, a mini-vaccuum, and so much more – we were essentially going to need all the things a house needs, plus camping gear. We got e-bikes and a bike rack and a cover for the bikes on the bike rack. We needed a special kind of toilet paper. We researched hacks for smart storage, like using a hanging shoe storage system for all our sunglasses and reading glasses, pens, flashlights, sunscreen, phone chargers, and other odds and ends. At some point we realized we’d need to tow a small U-haul trailer on our way out to Michigan.

September finally came, and we were ready to go. We hitched the U-Haul up to our SUV and took off. (Fun fact: a tiny U-Haul trailer is WAAAAY harder to maneuver than a 28-foot Airstream. Something to do with the number of wheels and pivot point.)

Other than a quick stop in Jackson Hole, Wyoming for a couple days, we stopped in Omaha, Nebraska overnight before arriving in Grand Rapids. We got there in three days. 🤪 Alex was the designated driver because he loves to drive; my job was to be the designated DJ and entertainment coordinator, picking music and/or podcasts to listen to and Googling topics when our conversations led to pressing questions we needed answers to right away. (e.g. Question: What is the main agricultural economic driver in Nebraska? Answer: Corn and cattle!) Yes, we are nerds! And we had a lot of time to kill.

When we got to Grand Rapids, we were so excited to see Joy in real life. Up until that point we’d only seen brochure renderings and whatever versions of people’s Airstreams we found via YouTube/Patreon. This was our baby!

The dealer walked us through how to hitch and unhitch the Airstream to our car. He explained in excruciatingly mechanical detail how the lithium batteries worked in tandem with the propane tanks and solar panels on the roof. Apparently there is some magical way the rig’s system knows to use one or the other. Lots of buttons and panels. He also explained how the heat and AC worked (important! hello menopause!), how to hook up the tubes outside for emptying the shower, sink and toilet tanks properly and hygienically (also very important!), how to work the stove and oven/microwave and TVs, and a million other things. It was a lot. It took almost an hour. I videotaped as he talked, and sort of tuned out, assuming we would just watch the videos and take notes later. Then I mistakenly deleted the video.

Apparently all new RV owners spend the first night parked in (or close by) the dealer lot. This is called “the shakedown.” I have no idea why it’s called that. It sounds violent and like the police might be involved. But in reality it is just a practice night to make sure everything works properly before you hit the open road.

In my mind I envisioned our “shakedown” as being kind of like settling into an AirBnB. Leisurely unpacking clothes and groceries, and sure, all those other things we brought along. I’m not sure what happened to my scenario-planning-worrier self, but she had apparently been left behind in Washington. The Ashley that arrived in Michigan was blissfully unaware of what lay ahead for us that night. I was enamored with Joy and joy.

Needless to say, the shakedown was a much bigger task than we realized it would be. Most of the new things we had bought were still in boxes. The boxes and packing materials had to be broken down and carried to a dumpster across the lot. And it was dark. And raining. Then we had to figure out how to organize everything inside Joy. Clothes, kitchen appliances, cutlery, plates, cups, toilet paper, paper towel, Kleenex, pantry items, refrigerator items, wine, all the bathroom stuff... where the hell were we going to store the broom? We don’t have enough plugs for all the chargers! Where is my phone?

Airstreams are smartly designed with a great deal of storage… but it was still tricky figuring out the best place for everything so everything would fit. It took hours.

We went from this, starting around 4pm…

To this by around 11pm…

and finally this …midnight noodles!

Have you ever been so hungry yet so tired it hurts your brain to decide whether it’s worth it to eat? Hunger won. After dinner and a short but deep night’s sleep, we began our trek back west.

Driving off the dealer’s lot out into the world towing Joy felt a lot like leaving the hospital with a newborn baby as new parents. We couldn’t believe this was allowed! Who the hell were we to be given this 7,000 pound responsibility on roads with other people!? We hadn’t even learned how to back up yet! I say we, but really I mean Alex. I am the DJ/Googler, remember? Alex is a very good driver, but his grip on the steering wheel was quite tight that first day. I just closed my eyes and prayed a lot.

Our first stop was seeing Alex’s brother, Juan, and our sister-in-law, Joan, in St. Louis. My Aunt Cathie and Uncle Chuck on my mom’s side (her older sister) also live there and came over to see Joy. It was a lovely visit seeing all of them.

Then we went to Iowa to visit Alex’s nephew, Jason, and his wife and Carrie and their sons Chase and Sam. That was also a great visit. Then the morning we left their place we made a big mistake. You’ve probably seen airport workers putting chocks in front of and behind airplane wheels. It’s a security measure to make sure the plane doesn’t roll away and crush anyone or anything. RVs need these too. But we forgot to remove them and just drove off down their pretty suburban street, chocks scraping and screeching along the pavement, leaving massive, 30-foot long black skid marks in front of their house.

“Honey, what’s that noise?”

“What noise… what? What the F - ? God D@#%!&!”

Etcetera.

Jason and Carrie were incredibly kind and understanding about it. We never made that rookie mistake again. But we’ve made all sorts of other mistakes since then. Like I’ve said, it’s a journey!

After Iowa we went to The Wall, in Wall, South Dakota, which is just north of the Badlands of South Dakota and a well known RV spot for its beauty and freedom to park wherever you want. People just drive right up to the edge of the cliff and park. It was like being on another planet. The sunset was intense, the stars even more so (my iPhone could not capture the stars, which is so sad).

The Wall was our first “real” night in Joy and we were “boondocking,” which means there were no electrical or sewer hook ups. The Wall is on BLM land (Bureau of Land Management), so it’s free and open to all, but you’re on your own. We had to rely on our batteries, solar, and propane and limit our water use so as not to fill up the grey tank. But Alex said we had plenty of power, not to worry. So we worked, cooked, turned up the heat (it was cold there in late September), star gazed, and then tucked into a couple hours of Netflix before going to sleep.

South Dakota is a wild landscape. It’s where Laura Ingalls Wilder, the author of Little House on the Prairie, grew up. My sister and I loved those books and used to dress up in bonnets and long skirts and play “Olden Days,” pretending we were the Ingalls family. Now here I was in a modern day version of a covered wagon living the dream!

We woke up the next morning and something felt off. I heard a strange noise outside that I didn’t recognize. When I reached my arm out from under the covers to pull back the curtains I realized two things simultaneously:

1. We were surrounded by a herd of bighorn sheep grazing the plains. Cool!

2. The heat wasn’t working. I could see my breath. My arm was cold!

Alex spent a lot of time that day on the phone with the Airstream service people to figure out what to do. We still had to work, hitch back up to the SUV (which involved power (or arduous hand cranking), and it was freezing! We needed heat. Apparently we had sucked up all the power checking our emails and watching Netflix the night before. Apparently we were hitting our data limit for our phones and computers thanks to work emails and a WebEx meeting. (Starlink was still a couple years away.) Alex was flummoxed. He’d spent a lot of time researching how to make sure none of that happened! He’d upgraded our wifi and data plans! He’d bought lithium batteries, not the regular kind! Etcetera!

Somehow, because he is a technical wizard, he got the heat working and wifi back up. He got a hold of a Verizon person who told to cast our shows from our phones to the TVs, but the TVs were apparently not smart TVs, so as a short term fix we watched on Alex’s iPad instead and only allowed ourselves one episode that night. (This would soon be solved too.)

You may be thinking we are lame for being so obsessed with watching TV while camping. But this was always going to be about glamping for us, more than camping. I mean let’s be real, we wanted to be able to stand up in our shower and we brought an espresso maker. We also go for hikes and enjoy campfires (when they’re allowed), but tucking into a binge-worthy series is just part of our nightly routine whether we are at home or on the road.

From The Wall we headed to Bozeman, Montana, where my son Henry was in college at Montana State. This was our first ever stay in an actual RV campsite. It was nice to have hook ups for power and also septic so we could relax about our power usage, take our first showers inside Joy, and empty the black tank (aka stuff from the toilet). I was afraid I’d run out of hot water, or just water in general, but I didn’t. My blow dryer also didn’t blow a fuse, which seemed like a small miracle. And emptying the black tank didn’t turn into that scene from the movie RV with Robin Williams (where poop spewed out all over him).

Henry came over for blueberry pancakes in the morning and we got to break out the table the chairs we’d brought along for glampy meals. This was like heaven on earth.

The day before we left Bozeman for Coeur d’Alene, Alex decided to replace our bedroom “dumb” TV with a smart one. This meant a trip to Walmart and then some technical time. I made this little video of him in action:

I don’t think Joy would be as much fun if Alex weren’t as handy as he is. He is our resident IT guy and fix it guy, as well as the designated driver. I think he concurs. He loves all the projects and figuring out of things. I like to read my book, write, and watch him figure stuff out.

From Bozeman we drove to Coeur d’Alene where we were the only people in a giant RV resort. It was their last weekend open and way too cold for camping or glamping. But we were there mostly to play golf. There’s a well known course there with an island green you have to take a little duffy boat to get to. The boat is named “The Putter.” Har har. The wind was howling in our faces, but I made it onto the green and Alex did too. Now that is pure joy!

From there, we hit the road home. It was starting to snow, and we had another big trip in the works that would start in December. But we had learned a lot on this maiden voyage, and there were things we wanted to do before that. Like get more battery and solar power. And install some drawers beneath the bed and shelves in one half of the closet so we could maximize our storage even more. In a post coming soon, I will give you a full tour of the inside of Joy. I hope you’ll join me/us in all the journeys (and stories) ahead.

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Sending joy,

Sometime around 2018 my husband, Alex, asked me what I thought about the idea of buying a sailboat.

I’d spent time as a kid with my family in a power boat cruising the relatively calm waters of the San Juan Islands and along Canada’s Sunshine Coast in British Columbia. It’s a magical part of the world – an archipelago of islands sitting amidst the Salish Sea, largely protected from Pacific storms and swells by the Olympic Peninsula and Vancouver Island. Alex and I had stayed in a vacation rental on Orcas Island, so he was familiar with both the beauty of that area and my love for it. I naturally assumed that was where he wanted to go sailing.

Power boating is very different from sailing, but I was willing to learn something new. And Alex had raced J/Boats in San Diego bay at one point in his life, so he knew his way around a boat. But it was still a bit scary for me to imagine; many things can – and often do – go wrong when dealing with the power of nature. But I figured that our combined experience and taking some sailing classes together would make me feel more confident. However Alex had a different idea.

Sailing the San Juans didn’t interest Alex. He dreamt of sailing the open ocean, across the Pacific to Hawaii, exploring the California coast, and maybe even going as far north as Oregon and Washington. His experience racing boats in his younger days gave him confidence; he was up to the challenge. He wanted the thrill of adventure, speed, wind, salt spray. He wanted to see new parts of the world, live in our bathing suits, and eat fish we caught fresh each day from the ocean. He watched a few couples who were living this dream on YouTube and envisioned us living like them.

When Alex and I realized the gap between our visions we tried to negotiate. I explained that the western coast of the United States was one of the most challenging areas, and at certain times of year or in certain kinds of weather, extremely dangerous areas, to sail in the world. He said we just wouldn’t go during those times.

I reasoned that racing J/Boats in the San Diego bay was not equivalent to open ocean sailing. At all. Because sharks. Because thirty foot swells. He reasoned that modern boats have equipment and technology that would keep us safe. 🧐

I shared with him scary memories of the time(s) our navigation system broke and my father had to slowly maneuver our boat through a fog as thick as pea soup with my mother standing on the bow intently watching for “deadheads” (submerged floating logs) and rocks just beneath the surface. I emphasized that back then at least if the boat had capsized or sank, there was land in sight.

He just shook his head and said, “You always imagine the worst case scenario my love. Everything will be okay!”

Feeling like a dream killer I said,“ I know you’re trying to reassure me. But your positivity and nonchalance only proves to me you aren’t taking the risks seriously enough.”

You should know that Alex is one of the most handy, proficient people I know; he can fix almost anything, enjoys DIY projects, and once he sets his mind on doing a thing, he doesn’t half-ass it. From fixing our espresso maker, to installing our rain gutters himself, to fixing roadside flats, to hemming his own pants, the man is extremely proficient. YouTube and Google are his teachers, but even before the digital age he was a problem solver and a doer. His family nicknamed him “Magellan” (after the famous 16th century Portuguese explorer who first circumnavigated the earth) because he is so good at intuitively knowing how to get from A to Z without a map. With this all in mind, I did wonder for a moment if I should have more confidence in his sailing abilities.

But here’s the thing; I’ve seen Perfect Storm, White Squall, Open Water, and of course, Jaws. Visions of drifting hopelessly in a life raft with a soccer ball named Wilson (even though that was a airplane catastrophe film) also loomed large in my mind. I didn’t want to be a dream-killer, but I also didn’t want to die at sea.

Perhaps I should have had more confidence. As I’ve said, I grew up around boats. But more than anything, it gave me a healthy respect for the power of water and nature. Plus, other than learning how to tie lines and dock a speedboat, our father did not teach my sister or I anything about the sea or captaining. I know just enough to know how much I don’t know. I also know how much Alex doesn’t know.

But when Alex sets his mind on a plan, he tends to get it done. I was seriously freaked out he was going to go do this thing, and it scared the hell out of me. We had only just gotten married (a second marriage for us both) and we both really wanted things to work out the second time around. Was he going to ruin it by going off to sea?

I knew to my core that sailing on the open ocean was a hard “no” for me. I wouldn’t even do that in a large cruise ship. Because, you guessed it, Titanic.

Eventually I said, “If this is your dream, go for it. But just know that I can’t do it with you. I’d rather stab myself repeatedly in the eye with a fork. I will fly to meet you in whatever port or harbor you hopefully make it to.” Then I added, “And you’ll need to get a good life insurance plan.”

To his credit, not only did Alex listen to me, he didn’t want to sail on the open sea without me. (He also has a superstitious side and without realizing it, I had effectively jinxed his idea.) COVID hadn’t hit the world yet, requiring everyone to “pivot” to a new way of living and working. But Alex pivoted before pivoting became a pandemic cliché.

“How about if we buy an RV instead?” he said.

Now visions of Robin Williams in the 2006 movie RV began to swirl in my mind. The potential of septic tank explosions, white knuckle highway driving, and curvy mountain roads with harrowing drop offs gave me pause. But at least there wouldn’t be any sharks. This movie was a comedy, not a horror film. I could deal with that. And I loved every movie/tv show Robin Williams ever made; the man was a comic genius, God rest his soul. Alex makes me laugh too. It seemed like a good sign.

“I am willing to explore that,” I said, feeling uncertain but wanting to match his willingness to pivot.

We earnestly began watching YouTubers living the RV life, and we went to some local RV shows. We learned all about the different types of RVs.

• Class A = These are the big bus-style motorhomes the rock stars tour in with luxe interiors, washer/dryers, and dishwashers. They usually tow a car behind them because you don’t want to try to drive one of these things into a grocery store parking lot.

• Class B = Think campers and Sprinter vans. Easier to drive around in cities, negating the need to tow another vehicle, but limited storage and the bathroom is usually a “wet bath” which means the toilet and sink are inside the shower and there is a drain in the floor.

• Class C = These are the RVs with the sleeping area over the driver cab. More storage and living area than a Class B, but harder to drive around a city.

• Travel Trailers & Fifth Wheels = Without getting too technical, these are two kinds of rigs that you tow behind a truck. They range in luxuriousness and size, and are tricky to maneuver and back up. But you have the flexibility of unhitching and leaving your RV at the camping site.

We initially looked at a Class B called a “Unity.” This was within our budget, but too small. Unity’s are very modern and cool, and bigger than a Sprinter van. But we wanted to be on the road for extended periods of time, and storage was a problem. It seemed to us this type of RV was better for long weekends or day-tripping. We also wanted to “glamp,” not camp. The wet-bath wasn’t super appealing.

We looked at buying a used motorhome, but that proposition was still so expensive we could have bought a second house for the same price. We weren’t even sure we’d like RV-ing, and the resale value of these rigs isn’t great. Plus we’d have to buy another car to tow behind it because our car (and most cars apparently) wasn’t towable (unless you also bought a tow dolly or full car trailer). Something to do with how the car’s drivetrain behaves when the engine is off.

Ugh. This whole thing was beginning to feel impossible!

Then one day Alex said, “What would you think of buying an Airstream?”

Cue clouds parting, sun rays streaming down amongst rainbows, and angel song. It seemed so obvious, so perfect a solution. How had we not thought of this before?

“Now you’re talking!” I said. His eyes lit up and we were blissfully aligned, once again.

Airstreams are well designed, have a certain style-y, “cool kid” factor, and although they cost more than the Class Bs, they cost much less than a motorhome (used or new). They also have a better resale value if we discovered we didn’t like the RV lifestyle after all.

We began looking at the array of Airstream models, because Airstreams come in many shapes and sizes too. Thankfully, we were on the exact same page as we decided upon the length, configuration, and color ways to choose from.

When the pandemic shut the world down in early 2020, we were just about to purchase a 2020 28’ Globetrotter from a dealer in Grand Rapids, Michigan. We were willing to drive cross-country to pick her up. We saw it as a way to shelter in place but not in one place.

But then the dealer emailed to inform us he had made a mistake, the unit we had agreed to purchase only had one AC unit, and he knew we wanted two AC units. The rush to buy RVs hadn’t started yet, but with the world shutting down, he was very motivated to make a sale. He offered to sell us a 2021 model that was being built and he’d have in his lot by late summer/early fall. It had two AC units, an improved subfloor, and everything else we wanted. And he offered us a screaming deal on the price. We were willing to wait for that and placed the order.

We both work from our home offices and our kids are were all grown. We were very fortunate to not be as negatively impacted by the pandemic as so many other people, but like many people we were still pretty freaked out (even Alex). Remember when they didn’t know if the virus was airborne or not? Remember wiping down our groceries? Those were such crazy, scary, uncertain times. Planning our Airstream adventures helped keep us excited for the future and brought us much needed joy at a time of global and local fear and despair.

Airstream people name their rigs much like boaters name their boats. So we decided to name our airstream “Joy.”

Stay tune for my next post about our life in the Airstream coming soon. I’ll share about our trip out to Michigan to pick Joy up and our maiden voyage back plus share pictures of Joy! (Spoiler alert: we learned we needed more batteries…)

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Sending joy,

How is it already the end of March? Things I was looking forward to are already in the rear view mirror. I try to be present in the moment. I really do. Yet time really does fly and it goes faster as we age. Still, how is it already the end of March?!

This means it’s time to start making summer plans (if you haven’t done so already). 😯 🤗 😎 And I have something exciting to share with you this summer.

But first wanted to share that my story “Amelia on Mars” was selected to be featured by the (Top in Fiction). Very excited about that! You can see that and more reads they recommend here. Now back to the main subject of this post…

My husband, Alex, and I live in the Palm Springs, California area, and most of the time the weather (and life) here is truly lovely. But summer heat can get quite uncomfortable, so we leave.

We didn’t always live here. We raised our kids in San Diego, California and Portland, Oregon, both places much more temperate and lush thanks to ocean breezes and lots of rain. How did we end up as desert dwellers, you may ask? Let me tell you a story…

The short version is… we bought an Airstream.

The longer story of the Airstream, which we named “Joy” (because Airstreamers name their rigs like boaters name their boats), involves many other stories about our adventures over the past six years roaming around North America.

I’ve been documenting our airstream travels on Instagram over the years (@OurAirstreamJoy) but that requires a lot of time and energy that I’d rather put towards on Briefly (which lives on Substack, a much better social platform IMO).

If you don’t already know, Substack is an email newsletter, a website platform, and an app driven by a subscription business model (not advertising). It’s free to download and use. Most Substacks offer a free subscription tier, some also have paid tiers. None have ads. Readers get to pick what they subscribe to and follow. This is a friendlier, more human place to spend screen time, in my opinion. Can we all just say “yes, please” to that?

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Now for the exciting news… drum roll please…. 🥁🥁🥁

You can ride along with us! This summer, in addition to poems, stories, and essays, I will share stories about life “In the Airstream.” Every Friday, Briefly will arrive in your inbox (and on the app) as always, but now you can also expect true stories (past & present) about our adventures in the Airstream.

This summer, in addition to poems, stories, and essays, I will share stories about our life “In the Airstream.”

There is a lot to share and tell you. So far we’ve traveled around California, Oregon, Washington, Arizona, Colorado, Nevada, Idaho, Montana, South Dakota, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Illinois, Michigan, and Missouri. Last summer we went up into Canada to Banff, Lake Louise, Whistler, the Sunshine Coast and Vancouver Island.

This summer we’re headed farther east to New York by way of Arizona, New Mexico, and Michigan, and then on up to Montreal, Quebec, Prince Edwards Island, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, back to new York, then over to Pennsylvania, and down to South Carolina, before heading back through Alabama, Louisiana, Texas, and Arizona to Palm Springs. Whew.

We do all this while working remotely by the way, just like we do when we’re at home in the desert, except in closer quarters. (I’m not an Elon Musk fan, but I do appreciate Starlink.) Alex works for a bank, I am a freelance writer specializing in leadership and brand communications.

This will be more than a travel log. I’ll tell you about the time we lost all power (no coffee?!), the time we flooded the bathroom, the best Denny’s in the US (voted such five years in a row), the loneliest – and what felt like the longest – highway in the US, getting altitude sickness, getting COVID and making sure Alex didn’t get COVID (because he’s the driver and handles all the sewer stuff, aka indispensable), seeing wild horses, flat tires and being saved by a Mennonite and his three toddlers, and much more. MUCH more.

Life moves at a different pace in an Airstream. Living and working together in 280 square feet isn’t for everyone, but somehow Alex and I manage pretty well. Time settles into a rhythm, like at home, yet different. Exercise, shower, morning coffee, work, lunch, chill out in a camp chair for a break, work, dinner, empty the grey and black tanks, campfire and whiskey, Netflix, sleep, rinse and repeat (except the whiskey is only occasional). And pepper in activities in places like Yosemite, Zion, the Rockies, Jackson Hole, Bozeman, the Wall (IYKYK), Sedona, Malibu, (read my golf article for Airstream Life magazine here) and well… you get the idea. Pretty f’ing fabulous.

There are many places we wish we could stay longer, and some we couldn’t leave quickly enough. 🫣 But we always look forward to the trips, which we plan months ahead of time to be sure to have reservations booked and any family and friends along the route are given ample notice. Then we look forward to getting back home after three or four (or more) months on the road.

Friends always ask us what it’s like. Someone asked me recently if we could stand up inside Joy. The answer is YES! Here’s a tour of the inside of Joy:

We have everything we need, including a full size shower that my 6’2” husband can stand up in. We’ve also added many upgrades, full props to Alex’s ingenuity. But I won’t lie, coming home to a “normal” shower, full closets, and our own washer and dryer is always another kind of joy. That said, the way we roll definitely feels more like “glamping” than camping.

I am not selling Airstreams or doing affiliated marketing here. I just want to build a Briefly community of readers and fellow seekers/adventurers. I hope you’ll come join me on this journey. Please ❤️ and 💬 and share whenever the spirit moves you. And I’d love to answer any questions about life in the airstream in the comments. Also, have you been to the Briefly homepage? Come check it out by clicking this button:

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Thank you all! Enjoy your spring and plan well for the summer ahead! If you aren’t going on a vacation, live vicariously through ours. 🥰