E a s t e r n / \ S i e r r a s

In early December, we did something we've never done before. It's something we had been thinking about for a while and wanted to try it, even seen lots of people do it. It wasn't anything crazy, well to some maybe, but not crazy. We decided to join the van lifestyle and got ourselves a VW van for the weekend, driving it up the 395 to Mammoth. In December. Adventure ensued...

Cándida had been pestering me regularly when we lived in San Francisco about this place. “Let’s go to the Eastern Sierras!” she would say, and I was like, “where’s that?” and “there’s nothing out there”. After having been there now, I’m ashamed to admit I said those things and didn’t know what lay hidden across the range. Vast mountains towering over the barren valley with one road splitting north towards Mammoth. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere, the 395 stretches north starting about an hour out of LA (for those of you coming from Southern California). We found a company out of Newport that rents VW vans called Vintage Surfari Wagons, who were in the offseason so they agreed to give us one for the weekend. Luckily enough, it came with a portable heater. There’s more of a story there, but that comes later…

The first stop we made was the Alabama Hills. Famous for it’s majestic backdrop, tons of movies have been filmed here, from westerns to Iron Man. But for us, it was the perfect place to camp for the night.

our epic sunrise views.

We hopped back on the road in the morning for the next day’s events. We had in mind this hike in Big Pine, but we didn’t know how long it would take so we figured the earlier the better. The place in mind was 7 Lakes, an out and back hike that stretches miles up into the mountains. People spend days backpacking through there, but our goal for the day was to make it to 2nd Lake.

Five miles and 4,000 feet elevation later, we made it. The lake was just freezing over, and you could hear the burbling and cracking as the lake gave way to the unrelenting winter temperatures.

The final destination was Mammoth. The spot most people flock to for its skiing in winter, something I would normally want to do. But early December is an odd time, too early for good snow, but too cold for summer mountain adventures. We had just the perfect thing in mind… hot springs.

There’s nothing better than dipping into natural hot springs after letting two days of bitter cold seep into your bones. The view wasn’t too bad either…

On our way back, we had to spend one more night in Alabama Hills.

This is where the heater comes in. Little did we know that compared to the first night we spent there, this night was supposed to be a lot colder. After dinner, we went to turn the propane heater on to warm up the cabin before heading to bed. But it wouldn’t light. We kept trying and trying to no avail, so we thought, maybe we’ll try the van’s heater? Nope. No luck. Needless to say we didn’t warm up that night. We did our best to sleep, but not too long after midnight we noticed we had a little friend join us in the van. Cándida saw it first and gasped. What was it? Then I saw it. A mouse. It had discovered our snacks in the cupboards, and had been going back and forth between the dashboard and snacks stashing it’s newly-found nest behind the radio. After two hours of hunting with a broom to trying and gently sweep it out of the van to no success, cold and exhausted I gave up. I’m pretty sure we fell asleep after that, but I’m not sure. Early the next morning, Cándida, I, and our new mouse friend made our way back down the mountains to Newport Beach.

As they say, an adventure doesn’t begin until something goes wrong. It’s true, as it’s the thing I surely will remember years from now and laugh about. If you’re thinking about doing a trip like this, I highly recommend it. Just make sure your heater works, and don’t leave peanuts under the sink for furry creatures to find.

NM /\ TX R o a d t r i p

This blog will be a little different. I wanted to share some logs from my journal I wrote while on our road trip. So here it goes...

5.7.18
Taos
So i’m sitting on the wooden deck of a big metal trailer on the mesa west of Taos, NM. About 4 miles from the massive Rio Grande gorge, which we happened to check out for sunrise this morning. It’s mid-afternoon now and all I hear are the faint sounds of people doing construction and the nearby highway 64. The views are astounding. To the east is the stretch of mountains that make Taos what it is. There’s still a little bit of snow on the shadowy tip of the highest peak, holding on for dear life as the summer heat inevitably creeps in above the tree line. Where we are at 7,500 feet it feels like we’re in the mountains, but it still has a slight desert vibe to it. There’s a deserty sage-filled plain all across the mesa on either side of the river, and it’s beautiful. It must get nasty here in the winter. I wonder what it must have been like to be a pioneer crossing these plains for the first time on the way to the west coast, trying to find a route, a pathway across the massive expanse that is the american west.

On the road into Taos.

Christopher, our glorious trailer @ Hotel Luna Mystica.

The Rio Grande Gorge, taken from the Gorge Bridge.

Manby Hot Springs

5.8.18
Nowhere, NM
I’m excited to be here. It’s now our fourth day on the road trip that started in Albuquerque where we flew in, then to Santa Fe (and of course the random surrounding areas: Los Alamos, Bandelier state park, tent rocks, georgia o’keefe’s home, the white place, to name a few), and then Taos. We're heading to Roswell, NM, for a short peek at the alien madness ~ then onto Marfa, Texas for a few days.

5.10.18
Marfa, TX
This has been a creative trip for sure--but it’s also been a historical one, a trip of learning and growing in curiosity. We left Taos on Tuesday to drive all the way down to Marfa, Texas. I’ll get to what this town is like, that’s for sure, but on our way, we passed through another little town in New Mexico called Roswell. It’s made famous from the “Roswell incident” in July of 1947 where allegedly an alien craft crashed onto a rancher’s land 20 miles outside of town. The military was quick to say it was an Air Force weather balloon, but the whole thing seemed fishy for a lot of reasons. I won’t get into that now, but you need to check out the Roswell museum and read the affidavits residents made later in life long after all the happenings were over telling their honest recollections. I can’t say more, but you will form your own opinion when you go...

We also saw Los Alamos, NM. The military took over an all-boys boarding school in early 1943 to bring in a bunch of civilian scientists and develop the atom bomb. This history was also crazy for a number of reasons. First, unlike many people casually think, the bomb wasn’t actually detonated there, it was detonated in the white sands desert about 120 miles south of Los Alamos. Second, some of the scientists were wary of making such a colossal device of destruction and even met often in the project to consider stopping their work. I still have a lot to learn, but for good reason, it seems their worries came true the moment the Enoly Gay dropped the first bomb, dubbed “little boy” - a uranium device on Hiroshima, and then the second, “fat man”, a plutonium implosion device on Nagasaki. It’s a hard history to swallow. But it’s hard to imagine what it must have been like during the war and considering the options for ending it. What would have happened had we not dropped the bomb?

After a week deep into this trip, I realize how curious I get about the world around me. I open my eyes to it. Rather than thinking about my life and the stresses that overtake it, I’ve been learning about the towns I pass through and finding myself thinking about how they came to be, or how the areas around it were formed.

Ok, Marfa. I'm getting there. Marfa: the legendary art community in the middle of the west Texas desert. It really is a gem. Something I’ve never experienced before. Even before we got here, coming from the north you  drive through this incredible corridor of desert peaks and mesas, even skirting Guadeloupe National Park, before diving down thousands of feet to the valley floor on the way through ranch lands. Situated almost two hours from anything, like a town or a highway or another person, is Marfa. It’s a little town like the town in Oklahoma I grew up in, in a lot of ways. Mostly agriculture and trades industries, old brick buildings and a big, beautiful courthouse in the center of town. Only one red blinking light divides the town up into quartiles. Mostly neighborhoods lie all around the town center.

Marfa is our last stop before making our way back to New Mexico, the airport, and our normal lives. As they say, all good things must come to an end. But we'll be back...

M e x i c o .

It seems I'm on a yearly cadence writing blogs, coinciding with my annual anniversary trip. I guess it's the travel that inspires me to write, or the time away from the stresses of everyday life. I'm not sure the exact reason, but here it goes...

We just returned from an amazing, adventurous, and unpredictable two week trip throughout Mexico. We had planned to stay in five cities and six Airbnbs along the way. As soon as we got to the airport on a Wednesday night, we discovered flooding in Mexico City from a recent tropical storm would prevent us from even flying there. So, after hours in the airport we went home with our tails between our legs. Fast forward 24 hours, we were on our flight and headed to Puerto Escondido! Home to two famous surf breaks, first things first was to head to the beach...

Z i c a t e l a

Only a month prior, they held a big wave surfing contest about a mile up the coast at what the locals call "the Pipeline of Mexico". Needless to say this break isn't for the casual swimmer or beginner surfer. 

We were lucky enough to partner with Airbnb on this trip, who supported us by giving us some really rad places to stay in. Our favorite by far, had to be a place simply called casa tiny.

This place was a dream. Secluded in the thick jungly desert dunes near the water, it feels like you're a world away from anything else. And we kind of were. Just concrete and wood. Simply designed but so beautiful. Cándida and I had the most fun there because it was just us two, no one else, no wifi, nothing to distract us or keep us connected to anything but the present around us. It was inspiring to live that simply, so much so that we wrote down a (pretty long) list of things we planned to get rid of, donate, or sell when we got home (something that I promise we're working on now that we're home).

~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~

M e x i c o   C i t y

Our next stop on the trip was Mexico City, or what some refer to as simply el d'effe or Mexico. What a change from remote isolation and ocean to one of the biggest cities in the world in one hour-long flight! Mexico City was full of surprises. Nestled at 7,000 feet, this city feels more like Denver in the spring than Miami. It was cool, even cold, and cloudy and rainy. We stayed in Condesa, a neighborhood characterized by a mixture between Brooklyn and New Orleans. Lined with old three story brownstone homes behind thick greenery and tropical trees, the winding streets could be wandered for days. It was next to another amazing neighborhood called Roma Norte, full of hip restaurants, shops, and most importantly Churros.

We had the opportunity to do a cooking experience at Casa Jacaranda, where we learned about the traditional ways of making Maize for tamales, sopes, and other delicious Mexican foods. And fish tacos. And salsas. We came away from the day stuffed, but inspired to cook more at home. 

Frida Kahlo's residence in Mexico City.

Cándida's favorite: San Cristobal horse stables.

Teotihuacan with the local pup.

To see all the places we went on this trip, check out my wife's beautiful Instagram @candida. Till next time, Mexico!