Highlights
Having grown up in Maryland, I thought I knew mosquitoes. I thought I understood what it was like to be someplace with bad mosquitoes.
But Michigan’s Upper Peninsula has made me aware of the limitations of my understanding. These mosquitoes are at a whole different level.
I came to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula during peak mosquito season in order to get away from the heat dome that settled over most of the Midwest and Northeast. Northern Michigan doesn’t get one up out of the heat as well as the Rockies, but it’s definitely better than where I was a couple of weeks ago (southern Ohio).
It’s been a while since my last update. Some of that has to do with the fact that the way I do nomadic life, most of it is pretty boring. I work. I do laundry. I buy groceries and then eat them. I spend a lot of time in places that don’t lend themselves readily to travel blog fodder: metro Denver, Albuquerque, the Maryland suburbs, Dayton. I’ve spent a lot of time in family members’ and friends’ driveways, or parked on the street in front of their homes.
Though for me, this is actually one of the great advantages of nomadic life. I was able to help one friend relocate, join another on road-trip vacations, and spend time with my parents. Lend a hand with yardwork and basement cleanouts. My network of friends and family is pretty geographically scattered, but in some ways I feel more connected to people than I did at other times when I was more tied to one place.
But there have been some highlights, and I’ll tell you about them.
One big highlight of the last year is that I have taken on a part-time passenger. In fact he’s in the photo above.
** Enhance! **
This is Puck. He is a four-year-old hound and possibly border collie mix. And I love him so much.
(Here is a better photo.)
Puck was adopted as a puppy by my friend Ron in 2021. He was a Hurricane Ida rescue from Louisiana, and even as a tiny baby his wonderful personality was clear—curious, sweet, goofy, and eager to please.
However, it was also evident pretty early on that Puck is not a low-maintenance dog—he does best with a couple of hours of exercise a day. This was fine until Ron started grad school last fall and found that doing an intense master’s degree program plus an assistantship plus walking the neighborhood 12 or 14 hours a week was a lot. Meanwhile, I’d known and loved Puck since his adolescence, he’d stayed with me in the van a few times before and seemed to enjoy it, and I like to walk a lot anyway. So I figured I could take him on board when Ron’s workload is the heaviest.
Puck was with me for a chunk of this past fall, some of the winter and early spring, and he’s here with me now, sleeping with his head on my shin, snoring lightly and chewing something in his dreams. (Possibly he’s recovered the dead fish that he found on the shore of Lake Michigan the other day, the one that I made him drop even though it was obviously delicious and would have been a super healthy meal.)
It’s been delightful to have him with me. I’ve loved showing him some of my favorite places and discovering new ones together. It’s also introduced a new set of challenges. (e.g., what do you do when your vehicle is in the shop, and the vehicle is also your house, and the vehicle is also the dog’s house, and it’s cold and super windy out?)
Those challenges, however, are for another post. Right now I want to list some of my recent favorite discoveries, in terms of places I’ve been and things I’ve seen.
The southern Appalachians
A couple of years ago, I went through north Georgia and the western corner of North Carolina. I think this area is typically a summer or fall destination, though I passed through in early spring and I really liked the cool but not freezing weather and nearly-empty hiking trails.
Highlights included Clayton, GA (a cute small town with some good hiking nearby), the Linville Gorge, and the area near Robbinsville. That area is home to the Joyce Kilmer forest (which is one of very few preserved stands of old-growth woods; I loved the huge tulip poplars) and a few amazing dispersed sites by a lake (pictured). I only spent a couple of weeks in this area, but it’s one that I hope to revisit.
Hawaii (Oahu)
My three cousins grew up in Hawaii, and one of them got married there recently. It was great to see family (both from Hawaii and the mainland) and explore the island with them. I extended my stay for a week or so after the festivities wrapped up: I brought my backpacking tent, rented a car, and did as much snorkeling as I could while also having to work. This was in August, and August in Hawaii is very hot; fortunately, the car I rented happened to be a hybrid, so I could sit in the car to run the air conditioning and work while charging my laptop. Camping in Hawaii is very different than on the mainland, which could also be its own blog post. (I booked a state park campsite on Statehood Day and it was basically tantamount to sleeping on the ground in the middle of an all-night rave.)
This was worth all the sweat and more, because the snorkeling was incredible. My favorite spot was Oahu’s north shore, specifically a spot called Shark Cove. I spent hours there, surrounded by fish of all kinds and colors, some of whom were new to me. Favorite sightings included the colorful and wonderfully parallelogram-shaped humuhumunukunukuāpuaʻa (the state fish of Hawaii), a long-tailed spotted eagle ray that came sweeping in from the ocean like a ghost or an angel, and two sea turtles that came to hover in a specific area and were cleaned by two different types of fish in a two-stage system: first the bigger fish for the power clean, then the smaller ones for detailing.
Hawaii is also delicious, and while I tried to stick to a budget diet of peanut butter sandwiches and oatmeal, I could not resist the poke bowls, which are so good.
Albuquerque
Albuquerque is the Baltimore of the southwest.
Sounds weird, perhaps, but consider that the following apply to both cities:
Bad reputation that is to some extent driven by a famous TV show (The Wire, Breaking Bad)…
… and to some extent earned.
Large-scale, city-defining natural feature (the Chesapeake Bay, the Sandia).
Really good regional cuisine.
Often outshone by a nearby city that is more picturesque, “historic,” and touristy (Annapolis, Santa Fe), which hosts a campus of St. John’s College.
Cost of living is more affordable than that nearby picturesque touristy city, drawing working artists.
Climate mostly great but terrible in the summer.
Generally underrated.
Quartzsite, AZ (my first vehicle nomad meetup)
So if you’ve ever seen the movie Nomadland, with Frances McDormand, you may remember the part where she drives to the desert and meets a bunch of other vehicle nomads, and they have campfires and informational talks and learn how to fix a flat tire? That’s a real thing, the Rubber Tramp Rendezvous or RTR, and it still happens every year in southwestern Arizona.
I went in January 2024. As a strong introvert (84% “I” on the Myers-Briggs), it was a little overwhelming, but it was also great. I met a couple of other women there who I still stay in touch with. It’s really nice to know a few other people out there on the road, to check in with each other every once in a while and share tips and places to go, to gripe and commiserate, even if you’re many miles apart.
The RTR was also perhaps the first time I ever struggled to find my van in a parking lot.
Arizona, in general
I’ve passed through Arizona a few times, and there are a few areas that I’d really like to explore more at some point.
Sky Islands — This is a name for a set of mountains in the far south of the state, kind of by Tucson. I think they get their name because although surrounded by desert, each peak has a rich, forested ecosystem, which you see as you climb up and up. There are ocelots in these mountains; years ago, there was a jaguar.
Also in this area: the Paton Center for Hummingbirds. Decades ago this was just someone’s house with a big yard, but it also happened to be a migratory bird and hummingbird hotspot. the owners donated it to a nonprofit, and now it’s an internationally known bird nerd destination. On a twenty-degree morning, I came shortly after the staff had put warmed nectar in the hummingbird feeders and watched multiple species zip in to warm up.
I was surprised by how much I enjoyed spending a few days in Sedona. It’s in a beautiful spot, with these amazing mesas and butes, swirls and whorls and blobs of red sandstone, pines and flowers and Arizona sycamores; it’s also heavily developed, monitored, trafficked, and touristed. I was thinking that for me, the latter would overwhelm the former, but it didn’t. The beauty of the place is that unique.
There is one forest service road that is famous/infamous in the van life and nomadic communities: it was once one of the most sought-after destinations for vehicle camping, it got internet-famous, it got trashed, and now it’s closed to dispersed camping. Campers are still allowed, but limited to a handful of designated campgrounds that are basically just parking lots.
I did drive down this road and stay one night; it’s gorgeous, and it was a great walk in the morning. However, it’s a long drive to just cross your fingers and hope you find one of these hotly contested sites. I stayed further from the popular areas, either at a rest area just outside of town or at a dispersed camping area between Sedona and Flagstaff, and that was less stressful.
The hiking trails too can get overrun and crowded and thoroughly un-magical in the middle of the day. So what I ended up doing is going very very early—like butt crack o’dawn—or late, after people have headed to dinner.
And while it’d be tough to live here because the town is clinging to the side of a mountain and there’s no real place for a nice long walk, I enjoy stopping in Jerome. This one-time mining town south of Sedona has a lot of ghost stories, and it really leans into that. There’s a creepy old jail that is sliding down the hill, a restaurant called the Haunted Hamburger, and for some reason, several pinup/rockabilly clothing boutiques. I had the chance to walk through sometime in October and it did not disappoint.
Also in Arizona, I crossed the border to Los Algodones, Mexico to get dental work done. For twenty years, I’d been hoping to be able to save up enough money to get an implant to replace a tooth I had pulled at age 24. I was quoted approximately $7500 for this in Maryland and finally accepted I could never afford it unless I went to a different country. I had it done in Mexico for $2000, and so far, the implant seems to be holding up. This was prior to the 2024 elections, so I’m not sure if the increased tension and new administration’s policies changed the logistics of border crossing, the town’s economy, people’s livelihoods, or the general vibe of an international dentist visit, but at the time I went, it wasn’t difficult or scary, and it was a good experience overall.
Rio Chama Canyon
This isn’t a place that’s new to me, but I’ll end with the Rio Chama Canyon in New Mexico, which is one of my favorite places in the world and one I’ve been lucky to visit multiple times. Sometimes by myself…
… and sometimes with a friend.
My favorite campsite of late has been near the mouth of the canyon, in this nook of rocks. But if you keep driving this (sometimes a bit rough) gravel road for 13 miles up to where it ends, there’s a monastery that’s one of the most peaceful and beautiful places I’ve ever visited. I’m not sure whether the whole canyon feels like a good and safe and sacred place because of the monastery, or whether they put the monastery there because the canyon feels like a good and safe and sacred place, or whether it’s all just me and my associations. But in addition to returning there physically/literally, this is a place I go back to in my head sometimes, and it makes me feel both protected and free.
These are some dark times, and I’m wishing both protection and freedom for all of you, and your families and communities. (And if you’re ever in New Mexico, or in any of these places I’ve written about, I’m happy to privately share the coordinates for my favorite campsites.)