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thisunfoldinglife · 5 years ago

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How I Came To Live in the Woods

Two years ago, my husband and I bought our dream house. This lovely seventies fixer-upper has robbed us of every last pound, consumed months of our time, and has signed us up for another decade of sweaty evenings and weekends spent painting, repairing, and renovating. We sometimes stop, paintbrush in hand, and ask each other, “any regrets?” Well…no—but we both pine for simpler times.

I look around and marvel at this big house and everything we’ve accumulated since our move to England. We arrived eight years ago with only a few suitcases and a handful of hopes. Unlike normal people, we didn’t ship our furniture and household goods from America. Instead, we had a massive yard sale and sold the rest on Craig’s List. I said goodbye to my sewing machine, guitar, bike, and camping equipment. We had to rebuy everything from brooms to blankets, dishes to clocks, silverware to shoes. It’s amazing how long it takes to rebuild your collection of stuff, especially when money is scarce.

Yet all this didn’t faze me. I was already well versed in the art of minimalism. When I was twenty-eight, all my worldly possessions resided inside the boot of my car. They would remain there for two years, while I tried out life as a vagabond. When you’re young, the promise of adventure can outweigh all fear. When it’s just you—no partner, no kids—just you and the great big sky, there are more chances you can take.

It all started after reading Brazilian writer Paulo Coelho’s book, “The Pilgrimage”, which sparked my desire to embark on a solo journey to Northern Spain to walk a 500-mile pilgrimage route that’s existed since the Middle Ages. Looking back, my decision to walk this ancient path set into motion a new trajectory for my life that wouldn’t be altered for several years. Walking the path for forty days, with nothing in my backpack but my journal, clothes, food, and water, certainly perfected my predilection for a minimal existence, but it was truly the time before and after the pilgrimage, that tested my resolve to embrace the unconventional life.

I was desperate to get to Spain. I had travelled the length and breadth of The States, but outside of a quick hop to London, I hadn’t properly travelled overseas. I didn’t have any form of savings to purchase a plane ticket or even feed myself for the two months I’d be gone, yet still, I couldn’t ignore the pull to go. I had a sharp distaste for fear and regret, and a stronger desire to be the bold protagonist in my own life story, so I needed to find a way.

I was living at the time in Flagstaff, Arizona. This high-desert mountain town boasts turquoise blue skies and perpetual sunshine to beckon everyone outdoors. At 7,000 feet above sea level, it’s cooler than its neighbouring desert towns, and yields deep winter snows that will never meet the cacti of the south. Flagstaff’s natural beauty draws an alternative collection of hikers, skiers, hippies, and transients. The cost of living is high, but the desire to be there great, and so many people find whatever means they can to stay. I had heard about a few odd souls who camped in the surrounding national forest for weeks at a time. I would be one of them. It was the most feasible means of funding my travels. I was renting an apartment then, with a kindred friend, Marike. Partial to avoiding conformity, she too, knew the value in travel and adventure, and so she wasn’t hard to convince. Together, we gave up our apartment to head for the woods. I quickly sold my furniture, giving away everything that wouldn’t fit inside my small Toyota. All I had left were my books, photos, clothing and gear.

Marike and I set up our first camp in a clearing of aspens and pines a mile down a long dirt lane. It was close enough to make the morning trek to work, yet far enough from the main road to ease our minds about cops or potential serial killers. My tent was narrow and thin, but sufficient. We’d forage for firewood, heat cans of soup on the stove at night and pour water for each other to wash up in the morning. Every other day, we’d pay to shower at the local hostel. Being April, the snow still fell, and so the coldest nights would find us curled up in the car beneath heaps of blankets, where sleep was fickle and fragmented. It was challenging, uncomfortable, and at times scary, but also exhilarating. The difficulties were dotted with starry skies, deep conversations, and the perpetual fresh mountain air that magically invigorated us despite it all. I felt raw and alive, my eyes open and senses heightened. My inner strength was blossoming, and my fears grew smaller, giving way to a confidence that began to permeate all aspects of my life.

Soon after, I left for Spain. Walking the pilgrimage was an epic alter reality that inspired and stimulated me daily. The path had brought many wonders and gifts—among them, a thirst for freedom, both internal and external. I felt tethered to nothing and life’s possibilities seemed boundless. The journey had liberated me from nearly all my money and material possessions, so when I returned to Flagstaff, I wasn’t ready to buy furniture, pay rent, and adopt a normal life. So, I returned to the woods. Marike had left for other adventures, and I was on my own, uncertain of how long I’d be there.

I was a vulnerable single woman alone in the forest, but through either ignorance or grace, I felt protected. I enjoyed the town and the trails by day and spent time with friends in the evening. I’d often find my way to the local bookstore before bed. Their late hours gave me a pseudo living room to read and write before driving back to the forest. On my way to the woods, I’d roll down the window to inhale the sweet smell of wood smoke escaping from well-lit houses, where people sprawled happily on couches, glasses of wine in hand. The line between liberating and lonely began to blur as winter closed in, but still, I was in a pleasant state of surrender. I believed life would shepherd me to extraordinary things, and magically it did.

At a random party, in a place I had never been, I met a married couple, Vickie and Bruce, who were soon to sail around the coast of Mexico for three months. I foolishly disregarded them as a wealthy privileged pair whom I’d have nothing in common with. Yet as our conversation grew, I quickly realised that they were making sacrifices to pursue their dreams, the same as I. And, when they asked me to look after their pets and home while they were away, I was humbled with euphoric gratitude. It was a blessed encounter that, not only granted me a home during the cold winter months but brought me a lasting friendship. For this couple, who were once two strangers, became dear friends. And their home became a haven of warmth and stability, to write, relax, and even grieve when my father unexpectedly died months after. And, two years later, when I met my husband, Vickie presided over our wedding.

Vickie and Bruce went on several long jaunts to Mexico, in which I was always happy to look after their home and pets. And in between, I found several other house-sitting jobs. I stayed in homes with hot tubs and hammocks, along rivers and among mountains. The most remote dwellings were quiet and wild, and I’d spy elk, coyote, and bear. Some were affluent, and afforded me weeks of luxury, soaking in big baths, lounging on plush furniture and dining in stylish kitchens. Others were more rustic. One January, I looked after a cat in a converted camper van on the edge of town. Without any electricity or water, the camper had only a small built-in wood burner to shield me from the worst of the winter cold. In three feet of snow, I’d chop logs into kindling and fall asleep to a roaring fire that demanded to be rebuilt several hours later, yanking me from sleep to action.

When one job finished, another would harmoniously begin. I only occasionally camped in the woods in the interims. Everything seemed to fall into place to facilitate this unconventional existence. It gave me courage, trust, confidence, and the precious gift of time. In escaping from the rat race, I bought myself time—to simply be—a luxury I have so little of now. It’s hard to believe I lived like that for two years. But in my wandering spell, I’d somehow cultivated true peace within myself. And even now, in life’s most constricting moments, my soul still wanders free because of it.

My vagabond days eventually proved their limitations, and I began to crave a place of my own. With great resistance, I exchanged my car—which brought me such freedom—for an apartment, where I acquired a rescue cat, a collection of mismatched furniture, and soon after, my husband.

I look around now at all this stuff—sofas and beds, tables and toys. I never thought I’d accumulate so much. Yet instead of weighing me down, it pleasantly anchors me. I think children need rooms and toys to call their own. As do I. And from the comfort of my couch, I now enjoy the smell of wine and wood-smoke from my own chimney. Someday I might don my backpack again and set off on another pilgrimage. Maybe I’ll even find a quiet spot in the forest to dwell for a while. But first, this house needs work and love, and as it’s filled to the brim, there is no more room for regret.

#minimalism #meaningoflife #introspectivewriting #whatarewedoinghere #~~#vagabondlife #rustic living

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princequixote · 6 years ago

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John Wimmer

There’s a treacherous piece of highway running north/south in Arizona we call the Beeline, though I’m not really sure why. It was known for being a dangerous stretch of road, though I’m not sure if that’s changed. The Beeline weaves through the hills and mountains, offering nice scenery to lull drivers into a false sense of security. Perhaps one of the most dangerous things about this particular stretch is that much of it is a two-lane highway and no barrier between north bound and south bound traffic. I believe they’ve since fixed this, likely as a result of this particular memory of mine.

I was eighteen at the time. I was with my girlfriend, parents, sisters, and some cousins in two different vehicles going north to spend a day at the creeks in northern Arizona. My dad was driving his truck, my mom driving our van. Some time into the trip all traffic stopped, as earlier that morning a large hay truck had flipped, creating not only a huge mess but also a snake of vehicles that stretched for miles. With nowhere to go and no end in sight, many people exited their vehicles to stretch their legs, talk to strangers, and try to make the best of the situation. No one had exited our van, but my dad, one of my little cousins, and one of my sisters got out of the truck, which was two vehicles in front of us. I don't remember how long we were there before it happened. I only remember the abominably large WHOOSH sound as a huge blur went by the right side of the stopped traffic, harshly shaking our van. As I looked up ahead, I noticed nothing but a thick cloud of dust. Not two more seconds passed before I was throwing on my shoes in a panic, opened the door, and stepped outside.

"Horrific" is a description I would eventually use for the scene overall. Intense, chaotic, sad... Also appropriate words, but not until later. In that very first moment, the first time I looked at the aftermath of whatever had just occurred, I was numb. I didn't know what I was looking at. A large cloud of whiteness put immediate visibility at about ten feet. I didn't see or hear anything. Not right away. But then I saw the whiteness begin to settle. Dust. Papers. Particles of objects unknown. I remember it slowly falling to the ground and begin clearing the air. As the scene slowly began to reveal itself in front of me, I heard a woman begin to cry. Then another. Then, as more people joined them, I began to realize the terrifying situation I was facing. The car in front of us was still there, as was my dad’s truck, though a large bite had been taken out of its passenger side. The line of parked cars that previously stretched out in front of us was now gone, replaced by a mangled mess of metal and debris. I started running toward the mess, not even thinking about what I was doing. I saw my dad with my sister and cousin on the side of the road, and that’s when it registered that there are going to be people among the wreckage. Somewhere. I hadn’t see them yet, but a few more paces would change that. I saw a woman, very bloodied, trying to get out of her car. I took off my shirt, ripped a piece off, and patted her face. She looked up at me, took the fabric, and pressed it harder against the wound above her eye. I took that moment to look around, and I saw others beginning to leave their vehicles, their faces covered with shock, fear, and blood. A man came over to the woman I was with and began crying when he saw her. She cried in return. I took my cue as he knelt down and started making my way to the next person I saw. Another woman, moving slowly, away from the junk heap that was her former vehicle. I knelt down and asked her if she could stand. She shook her head, and with a cry in her tiny voice said, "I don't think I can." I gave her legs gentle squeezes, but I couldn't tell if anything was immediately broken. Just then a cousin of mine trotted over to me. I asked him to help me move her to the side of the road. We picked her up and moved her, and that's when I noticed a very large gash in her neck. I pressed the rest of my shirt firmly against the wound just as a man ran over to us. He added his own pressure onto my hand, held the back of her head, and looked at me with a frightened look I'll always remember. I removed my hand and said, "Just keep it there." He looked back down to her, stated crying, and I got up to find the next person. My cousin removed his own shirt, tossed it to me, and ran back toward our family.

I continued on and assisted a couple other people, using my cousin’s shirt as a blood rag. At some point I noticed a large truck with a crane on top, flipped onto its side. Lying just outside of the cab was the body of a man already covered with a sheet, his arm the only visible part of him. If you've ever wondered why a dead body is covered, just know that ther sight of even just that lifeless arm still haunts me to this day.

I came upon some men trying to lift a car from another trapped under it. As they lifted, I was able to help slide the injured man out from under one of the wheels. He was as mangled as the car, breathing only in short spurts. You're told not to move an injured person until help arrives, so no one wanted to move him further. Taking stock of the situation, I pointed out a couple things. This man was lying on a sloped incline, with his feet higher than his head. Since his most obvious injuries were in his torso, my concern is that he'd choke on his own blood before help arrived. One look at the backed-up traffic made it clear that, by land, it would still be a while. By air, maybe a little sooner. None of us were medically trained, but it seemed to make sense to everyone there. We found some plywood to slide under him and got him turned around. After a few moments we got results. The sporadic breathing became labored breaths. With the man out from under the car, the other men left, and I knelt down beside him and, as best I could, assessed his situation. His chest was caved in. His body so twisted and bleeding that I was a little surprised he had any life left in him at all. To be in that much pain but not have been passed out was remarkable, but very cruel. I took his head in my hands and began talking to him. Help is on the way. You’re going to be OK. I’m not going to leave you. Dogs are great. The sky is blue. The Godfather is my favorite movie. I said anything I could think of just to keep talking. Then he spoke. I couldn’t hear what he was saying at first. Too soft. Too broken. Then I began to make it out. “Where?” He kept asking where, over and over. “Where what? Where are we?” No, that wasn’t it. “Where is your car? Where are we going?” No, still not right. Then a thought struck me. “Did you come with your family?” Yes. “How many?” One. “A child?” Yes. “Your son?” No. “Daughter?” Yes.

Where is his daughter? “Can you say her name?” Jess.... Jess... “ Jess? Jessie? Jessica?” Yes, that one. Jessica. “Is she older than ten?” No. “Is she older than five?” Yes. Between five and ten. That’s when horror of the situation struck me. I suddenly became aware that I had no idea what I was doing. I hadn’t known this entire time, but I didn’t realize until that moment that I’d been going forward with no real direction. I let that fear take hold for about five seconds, then pushed it away. I looked around and saw one of the men who helped lift the car. He looked scraggly and tired, but he was there. I called him over. “He has a daughter named Jessica, between five and ten years old.” “Got it,” the man said, and went away, leaving me there hoping he’d find her. I turned back to the injured man. “We’re looking for Jessica right now. We’ll find her and make sure she’s safe,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. “Can’t breathe,” he said. “Can’t breathe,” he said again. And again. And again, until it left a permanent scar in my brain. “I’m sorry, but you have to.” I’d say. Or “Jessica needs you to breathe.” Or sometimes just “Breathe. Keep breathing.” Two eternities went by before I saw the scraggly man again. “We found Jessica,” he shouted. “Brown hair? Wearing a yellow dress?” Yes, confirmed the injured man. “I left her with my wife and her parents. I don’t want her to see you and be scared, but she’s safe.” Thank...

Shortly after, the scraggly man returned with someone else. “He’s a doctor!” he said. The doctor didn’t hesitate. He knelt down and began doing things that I don’t remember the details of. He asked me what I know, which was unfortunately not much. He’s choking on blood. He can’t breathe. He has a daughter named Jessica. “Yeah, I saw Jessica. She’s with some nice people. Sir, can you say your name?” Nothing. “Sir, hang in there. Keep breathing. I need you to keep trying....” It was that moment I heard the chopper blades, and just another before the thing landed. I hadn’t even noticed that a spot had somehow been cleared, likely from the instruction of some off-duty emergency personnel. Another moment more and paramedics were all around. One took the man’s head from my hands, I got up, and walked away.

As I walked back to my family, I felt it all start to sink in. All the fear, worry, anxiety, everything was beginning to hit me. I wondered how much time had gone by. I passed the dead man again, this time noticing he was now completely covered up. I looked at the overturned truck. I looked at the people sitting by the side of the road, exhausted and crying. I looked at the coolers people had put out full of water, soda, beer, snacks, whatever they had, donated to the site. I then noticed how very hot it was. Someone handed me a bottle of water, and I drank the entire thing, not realizing how thirsty I was until that moment. I walked further and saw my family, and then I looked back at all the wrecked vehicles. It looked as though a bomb had gone off. It turned out that my dad’s truck was the first one hit. I don’t remember all the red lights and stop signs we’d encountered that day, but I find myself thankful for every single one of them.

I was told it took nearly 50 minutes for help to arrive. I later learned that the driver of the overturned truck was the one who had been covered. Witnesses saw him leaning on his steering wheel to try and avoid the other vehicles as best he could. The brakes of the roofing truck he was driving failed. Later we learned that the roofing company was notified of the faulty brakes only days prior, but still allowed the truck to travel along those dangerous roads, a decision that caused nightmares for many people. Thirteen vehicles in total were hit, which, while horrifying in itself, is a low number than I expected based on what happened. When the truck turned over, the crane on top extended, taking out the majority of those thirteen. I learned that a young girl lost her legs, with 18 total injured. Miraculously, only two people lost their lives from the crash. One was the driver of the truck, who had been ejected when it flipped. The other was the man whose head I held, and whose breathless words still echo in my mind.

His name was John Wimmer.

#AZ87 #7-18-98 #JohnWimmer #Nightmares

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trvlbug · 7 years ago

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Summer Chill-Out - US road trip recap

How this all started

I was sitting in Tucson during June 2017, enduring a major Arizona heatwave. It hit 115 degrees in Tucson, and the only saving grace was that we weren't in Phoenix, which got up to 124!

I'd been trying to work on some Zennie projects, but it was so dang hot that by 8am it was already too much for me. And work goes slowly doing 2 hours a day!

Eventually, I came to my senses and said to myself: "Girl, why are you still here? Does your house not have wheels?"

Uh, yeah. It was definitely time for a US road trip!

My first thought was to get to some mountains, FAST, in search of high elevations, tall pine trees, and brisk alpine air. What a heavenly thought, when you're sweltering the days away in the Arizona summer heat...

Ah... to be up in the cool mountain air again!

The Road Trip Plan

Road trip theme: Chill out!

My major goal was to escape the heat and get into the mountains.

This is the advantage of having a mobile lifestyle -- the chance to go wherever the weather is good, rather than having to endure a place you'd rather not be.

You can work WITH the weather, turning it to your advantage. High Colorado mountains in the summer, sunny Arizona deserts in the winter. Living in Zennie means I can travel with the seasons, like migratory tribes of days gone by.

But any smart migratory tribes would have been long gone and it was time for me to get moving!

Looking at maps - one of my favorite activities!

I pored over maps (one of my favorite things to do!), and decided to head east to New Mexico. I thought maybe a couple of weeks around Ruidoso and Cloudcroft would make a nice Summer Chill-Out getaway.

And I'm sure that's true -- they would have made a nice cool getaway! But things didn't turn out quite the way I envisioned...

The Road Trip Reality

Instead of 2 weeks in southern New Mexico, I ended up spending 84 days in 5 western states. And in all that time, I never did make it to Ruidoso and Cloudcroft!

I got off track almost immediately, detouring up to Taos to meet a friend. Other detours took me to Pagosa Springs and Durango to meet friends, and up to Wyoming for the solar eclipse.

Detours or not, for most of this road trip, the "Chill-out" theme worked well. I meandered through the mountains of New Mexico, Colorado, and Wyoming, enjoying spectacular scenery and nice cool temperatures. The days were delightful!

BUT... At that point in 2017, there was a lot of news about Bears Ears National Monument being on the chopping block. People said that the Trump administration would probably decide to eliminate it or scale it way back.

So, I decided I had to go there IMMEDIATELY!

Who cares if it's still 100+ degrees in Utah? I may never get this chance again, so it's back into the furnace we go...

Utah is amazing, but HOT this time of year! So much for "chill-out"!

The Road Trip Route

As you can see from the map, this is a meandering route, which bears little resemblance to a path somebody would plan for getting from one place to another!

Route for Zennie's 2017 "Summer Chill-Out" road trip

I was really playing it by ear, deciding week by week and day by day where to go next. This is my favorite way to travel, staying open to opportunities, and making last-minute decisions. It's a lot of fun, but nobody would say it's an efficient way to cover the miles!

Top 3 Highlights

Total eclipse at the Tetons. The total solar eclipse of 2017 was in many people's travel plans this summer, as it traveled all the way across the United States. Folks from around the country flocked to places in the "Zone of totality" for the event.

. I tried to resist. I had this sinking feeling that I'd drive all the way from southern Colorado up into Wyoming to see the eclipse, only to find that it was raining that day and we couldn't see a thing.

2 photos about 15 min apart: before and during the total eclipse

Eventually, I decided to go anyway, though my expectations were low. Was I ever wrong!! Our location right outside Grand Teton National Park provided a spectacular backdrop, and the eclipse itself was amazing! It's one of the most memorable events I've seen. . And Zennie got to hang out with her special friend George, too!

Zennie and her friend George got in on the eclipse action, too!

Bears Ears and Canyonlands. Utah has some of the most amazing scenery anywhere! I'm including these two areas together because of the overlap. At the moment (before any chopping of Bears Ears by the current government), Canyonlands National Park shares a border with Bears Ears. In fact, when I was visiting Canyonlands, little did I realize that a couple of my favorite boondocking sites right outside the park were actually in Bears Ears!

Overlooking Canyonlands, from a perfect boondocking spot in Bears Ears

Anyway, both of these areas feature beautiful twisty canyons, incredible rock formations with spires and bridges, and amazing hiking (as you might imagine)! Bears Ears also has a wealth of historic sites with ancient ruins and cliff dwellings. . I could happily spend a month or more exploring this corner of Utah. There is a ton to see, and more hiking trails than I'd get to in a lifetime. But next time, I'll pick a cooler month!

A month in New Mexico. Before I started hightailing it north to meet friends in Colorado, I was just meandering for a month around New Mexico. I started in the Gila area in the southwest corner, and went all the way to a ghost town with family ties in the northeast. . But most of the month was spent looping up, down, and all around northern New Mexico and the area around Santa Fe and Taos. I found myself back at Wild Rivers (Rio Grande del Norte National Monument) a few times, since I like it so much that every time I went near, it drew me in with its powerful magnetic force. I'm pretty sure I'll be back there again someday, perhaps for some backpacking!

At Wild Rivers, sitting on the rim of the Rio Grande Gorge

Top Lowlight

This was a tough decision....

* Should I pick the fact that the solar panels failed and had to be replaced? My theory is that they were damaged by the expansion of the metal roof in Tucson's extreme heat wave, but that's another story...

* Or perhaps the blowout on a lonely highway in Utah, which also bent my exhaust and bashed in a storage compartment? If it wasn't for that good samaritan who helped me out, but that's another story...

Nope, the winner for Top Lowlight is (drum roll)...

A mouse! And then another, and another... I had Zennie about a year before getting the first mouse in my house, but there it was. It's hard to explain why this is worse than a blowout, but it totally freaked me out, having this furry little creature sharing my space!

Yikes! There is a mouse in my motorhome!

I had a real battle on my hands to get rid of the mouse in my RV. And once I finally got rid of the first mouse, another appeared a couple of weeks later, and then another less than a week after that! . I had to learn a lot about mouse removal and prevention, which I wish had never been necessary. Just thinking about it now gives me shivers down my spine, and I seriously hope to never have to deal with this again. I've put in quite a bit of mouse prevention work, but in spite of my best efforts, there will probably come a day when I hear those furtive little noises in the night. No, please no!

Key places

Gila National Forest. This is a large national forest in southwestern New Mexico, and it's one of my favorites. It's high enough to be significantly cooler than the lowlands, though there aren't the altitudes you see in Colorado. The Gila River and its branches run through, and there are many miles of hiking trails to explore. A few of the places I camped in the Gila were Cattlemen Trail, The Forks, and Apache Creek.

Cliffs rise above the Gila River

Carson National Forest. This forest covers a large swath of northern New Mexico, and I looped around it a few times. The High Road from Santa Fe to Taos passes through this forest, and much of the area north of Taos is part of it, too. The mountains are higher up here, and once again, there's enough here to explore that it could take forever.

Sweet little boondocking spot in New Mexico's Carson National Forest

Great Sand Dunes National Park. When I think of Colorado, I see snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains. But oddly enough, in this one portion of the mountain chain, the area below the peaks is full of giant sand dunes. These look like they should be in the Sahara, not the Rockies! It's a unique and special place, and certainly worth a visit.

View from the top of the High Dune

Grand Teton National Park. Simply spectacular! I'd only been here in the winter before, so this was my first chance to get up close and personal with the mountains and do some hiking. Even if the eclipse had been rained out as I feared, it would have been worth the trip up here just for the hiking and wildlife viewing. I saw moose, bear, bison, coyotes, deer and antelope. The mountains themselves are stunning, and it was some of the most gorgeous hiking I've done in years.

Hiking in Grand Teton National Park was simply stunning!

Canyonlands / Bears Ears. I talked about these above, and don't have much more to say except that they are amazing! I believe that the special features of Bears Ears deserve the National Monument protections that they currently have, and I'm so sad that it seems it will be dismantled soon. I'd rather see these beautiful places protected for the public's enjoyment, wildlife and historical preservation, and future generations, than opened up for mining companies. I'm just glad I got to see it before that happens.

Valley of the Gods, in Bears Ears National Monument

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PHOTO CREDITS: Mouse - Martyn Fletcher, All other photos - Deanna Keahey

The post Summer Chill-Out - US road trip recap appeared first on Uphill Zen.

Sonora Sojourn - Mexico road trip recap

New Mexico boondocking - Cattlemen Trail

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from Summer Chill-Out - US road trip recap

#Summer Chill-Out - US road trip recap

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