Up the USA West Coast and into the Pacific Northwest at the start of a global pandemic (and after the death of our person)
In late 2017, Papa Burt had come around to the idea of living out of an RV while traveling the great American countryside and roadschooling our young son. After being diagnosed with an aggressive head cancer and beginning chemotherapy and radiation the following year, Burt and I finally purchased a used RV from a dear, elder friend (Todd) in our dance community. However, as 2019 arrived, Burt was struggling through his conventional cancer treatment and I was stuck in a state of acute anxiety (again). In response, we decided to just throw the towel in on USA living and instead head south of the border for relaxing, warmer times. We sold our big things (beds, desks, tables, chairs, cars, etc) while I cleaned the inside of the RV (and Burt worked on the outside of it). Storing what remained of our lovely things inside of it, I then set it up as a nurturing nest for us to return home to. (Which I looked forward to.) Unfortunately, when we were in Ecuador, Todd experienced a full blown health crisis of his own and his estate manager ran through his two-acre property, eager to liquidate all that she thought was his. Including our beautiful things - sporting & camping equipment; clothing & shoes for the fall and winter seasons; children's toys & books; art supplies; bedding; office supply, including a desktop computer. All that remained were a few boxes of our most base memorabilia, mainly photos and such things. Little did I know then that this loss, in the fall of 2019, was preparing us for the greatest loss of our lives - when Papa Burt died in Ecuador from a recurrence of liver cancer at the end of January 2020. We returned to southern California to both mourn his death and celebrate his life. As well, I needed to tend to the business of the now empty RV that was still ours. Burt was also good with his hands, and was able to fix a lot of things. He could change the break pads on his Mini Cooper, for example. Navigating a global pandemic after his death as a lone mother along with an 1978 Lazy Daze Camper just felt like too much for me to handle on my own. Plus, whenever I would step foot inside of it, I was reminded of everything we had lost. It was simply too much. I sold it to a couple that was happy to pick it up and pour some tender loving care into it. Meanwhile, I spent some time gaining clarity on what I wanted and we needed. Having a community of people to talk to about it with, even in the midst of an infectious disease, was very helpful. I knew that it was wise advice for me to look in the direction of a twenty-plus year old van, as being able to tend to its maintenance felt gentler on my nervous system. Still, where to begin? The internet - mainly, Facebook Marketplace & Craigslist - is filled with advertisements for such vehicles. I would close my eyes at night and imagine myself on the road, camping and being in nature with my child.
What did I see? Mainly, in the vision dancing in my mind's eye, I noticed: an ability to store things inside and outside of the vehicle; an ability to plug my devices into something inside of the vehicle; a comfortable, warm bed; and a table to prop my computer on so that I could write. Back then, these were my needs. I also thought about my ideal price range, which was between $6000-7500. Initially, I kept my search area defined to primarily around my county as I drove south to check out a few vehicles. I spent a week, leisurely checking out my options while becoming clear on exactly what I needed and how much I wanted to spend. When I had that clear vision in mind, I then expanded my search area. A hit for a 2005 Ford e350 cargo van in the Imperial valley, a few hours north, came through the Craigslist wires. I buckled Cee into the station wagon I was then borrowing from dear friends and, as we cruised into the neighborhood where the above van was sitting on display in the front of a large, suburban house, I knew that I had found what we were looking for. It was like the clouds had parted and "Hallelujah!" sang down from above as it was 100% clear - without a doubt - that we had found our home on wheels to survive the rest of 2020 with. Our van had been built out by its latest owners so that it had a wooden unit inside of it that could accommodate a table for four or a full sized bed plus storage space below the bed and bench areas. It had black out curtains, a 6000-watt converter, a hitch and an overhead rack. Plus, comfy, homemade cushions and four remaining bucket seats with seatbelts that we could use to ferry other Mamas and their babes in. It was perfect for us (at that time!) I returned the following day, with cash in hand. Hours later, Cee and I happily pulled into the San Diego neighborhood we were staying in as dusk was descending. From the side, front yellow lights, I noticed that our van shot faint beams of colored light. "Look!" I cheered to Cee. "Our van shoots rainbows!" This is how our van became known as the RS mobile, which was short for the Rainbow Shooter. From the get go of my lovership with Burt, rainbows were showing up and playing an important role as a sign that I was indeed headed in the right direction. All I needed to do was keep trusting and believing.
Cee and I then spent the month of May living a soft start out of our van by camping outside of the garage of a dear mama sister friend's home in my hometown of Vista (northern San Diego County, California.) During this time, I was able to order the camping gear, and any other items, I needed and wanted for us. I also called upon the support of a member of my wide dance tribe who is an auto mechanic with ample RV and van experience. A member of the Burning Man community, he was also willing to pay house visits so he came out to us in checking out the RS Mobile, diagnosing any issues and performing maintenance. When Burt and I had talked about roadschooling Cee, I had been really excited about driving up the west coast and into the Pacific Northwest. I knew the route well, having attended college in the north of our state and having driven alone from Vancouver back to San Diego. I looked forward to introducing my boys to the giant Redwoods and to cruising across the Golden Gate bridge in our home on wheels. Thus, I didn't have to choose a route and completing this journey that Burt and I had envisioned setting out on together felt really comforting. I could sense Burt's presence with us along the way and it just felt really good to do what we had talked about doing together.
HIGHLIGHTS from our first MAMA CARAVAN TOUR:
Being gifted a granny flat studio in Lagunitas, Marin County, California, that we got to use a nest and visit the beach, redwoods and other amazing landmarks in the rolling hills just north of San Francisco. I was also able to move the furniture to the perimeter of the living room as I turned the flat into a dance studio, which was exactly what my body and Spirit for decompressing from both the long drive and just dealing with acute loss in a world that had been flip turned upside down.
On summer solstice 2020 our we had our first Mama Caravan meetup with the original group of women from my San Diego community that I had spoken about hitting the road with. We had a picnic at a park near Fairfax. We frolicked, ate and lounged as our children relaxed around us. It was perfect.
The Black Lives Matters protests had broken out in full force that summer. Another Mama whom I knew from San Diego County, and who had migrated to Marin County, produced a protest in downtown Fairfax. Cee and I were able to attend and participate. However, at just five years old, the laying down on the ground for 9.29 minutes - the same amount of time that an officer kneeled on George Floyd's neck, was too intense for him. So we sat quietly and lent our bodies and attention to the important moment at hand.
Camping and hiking in the Mt. Shasta area. It was my first time coming to know this sacred land. We met up with the main Mama (Kimberly), and her son, who we were caravanning with. They had inflatable toys for the boys to enjoy on the lakes that dot the area. Sharing meals under the night sky, while roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, was a memorable experience. Camping near the Mt. Shasta bowl, which was still dotted with ice in July, idyllic as well.
Us two Mamas caravanned together again into southern Oregon where we enjoyed the natural hot springs found above the North Umpqua River. After a few memorable days (and as life goes) however, I made the difficult decision to part ways - for good - with Mama Kimberly due to the full-time presence of a unhealthy man she had just met. (Tragically, it was the last time I would see Mama Kimberly alive. If I knew then what I know now would I have tried harder to convince her to leave too? I did speak up - I did tell her that Papa Burt wouldn't like the environment that she was participating in and that there were many sweet men who would love her. I was compassionate, and as tough as her already taxed nervous system could handle.)
I was nervous and not knowing what to expect around the bend as we headed east, past Glacier Lake (where I stopped to purview the alpine lake while Cee napped in the van) but I had peers from my San Diego dance community who had moved to Bend. I figured I could connect with them. I met up with Mama Flow and her young daughter at a river in Bend where she told me about an outdoor ecstatic dance at a farm nearby. Later, at this farm, my son befriended a little girl his age whose Mama was also on a caravan tour. We decided to join forces and we spent the next week together as we continued to travel north into southern Washington.
We ended up camping outside of a wood cabin near Eugene, Oregon, that had a river in the backyard and a blueberry farm in the front. There, Mama Alex made the best organic, high quality meals as our children frolicked together and she caught up with an old friend of hers who was willing to host Cee and I as well.
We spent a few weeks north of Olympia, Washing where the Prancing Unicorn Retreat and Recreation Center served as our nest. Owned by a member of the Burning Man community and another friend from my dance community, his recent long-term investment was now hit with the economic downfall that came with Covid. He was happy to share his alternative space with us, where Cee and I camped, went to see our first drive in movie together (the original 'Karate Kid'), visited the local lake a lot, enjoyed the main indoor wood dance floor and spent time with other members of our San Diego dance community (Rebecca & Cameron) who were also surviving Covid by living primarily outdoors. Mama Alex and Reya were able to camp with us for the first few nights before returning to Ashland and then, after a few weeks, we were joined by Mama Dana and her crew with whom we departed southern Washington and then caravanned all the way into the San Juan Islands.
Visiting the remaining tempeart rainforest in North America. Hoh is on the west side of Washington's Olympic National Park. It was the middle of the summer and it.was.wet. I learned the hard way that if the Rainbow Shooter isn't parked on flat ground and is instead tilted at an angle in the middle of rain showers then water will make its way in through the roof siding. (Hint, hint.)
Driving onto the ferry and landing on San Juan Island where we were able to camp outside of the home of another Mama I had known from our San Diego County circus and Burning Man community. Even though our connection had been superficial, we were welcomed with open arms and brought into their pod for the week. Mama Dana and D were also able to join us. We were as far north as possible given that the border with Canada was closed. It was the end of a line, and I felt this closure of a vision that Burt and I had held together. (Burt even sent me a message through technology which you will have to read about in my book.)
Again, I was confronted with not knowing where to go and what to do "next." So I reflected on where in the USA I had always wanted to travel to. Yellowstone National Park and the state of Montana was a beacon beckoning me to it. Driving Highway 20 over the North Cascades was candy for my eyes the whole way. We frolicked in pristine water ways (which was a fabulous habit that I had adopted for treating my anxiety all along the way) as bald eagles flew overhead. However, the Rainbow Shooter began struggling to crest the last peak, thus we found ourselves needing engine service while winding our way into Missoula, Montana, right before Labor Day weekend.
We camped outside of Missoula near the Nez Perce Historic trail before an early snowstorm hit the region and I was happy to hightail it to a hotel for the week while we waited for the van to be tended to. In Missoula, Cee and I put on our first ten-mile days of bike riding across the flat trails that run around the city. Yellowstone, however, would have to wait as I realized that with Burt's birthday quickly approaching, what my heart really wanted was to release his ashes to the almighty Pacific with our closest friends in San Diego County.
Alas, this is how and where our first Mama Caravan tour came to an official end. The greatest takeaway for me - and what made me proudest - was how I was struggling to delegate age-appropriate tasks to Cee when we first departed on our initial trips. I would spend the whole day cleaning and packing alone and then I would end up feeling resentful with my child (especially when he behaved like a child. E.g. Losing things; needing my attention; etc.) I had a few emotional blowups in result.
In packing up and leaving Missoula however, I was sure to put Cee to work. I.e. By carrying things from our hotel room to the van, he felt both a part of our whole journey and empowered by it. I took a few days to drive through Utah and Nevada before we arrived back 'home,' where I initially felt a high of energy in having completed our first successful caravan tour.
There is no place like home though, to bring up our unhealed wounds.
And so the adventure continues.
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