heading toward the homeland

We have left the eastern shore and woods, left Appalachia and the deep South. We move West now, a year and a half from when we headed east. Time doesn't fly; it overlaps, loops, expands and contracts. It feels like yesterday we were on the ferry leaving Seattle, and it feels like a lifetime ago.

We moved west from Marshall, NC into the Great Smoky National Forest. It was winter and cool, and the rolling Appalachian hills covered in grey leafless trees only added to its smokiness. National parks have been a mixed blessing as we move around the country. They are not cities and they are beautiful, which is a bonus, but Ziggy is not welcome and camping is prohibitively expensive...so we tend to enjoy the view and move on.

We headed South through Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana. We stayed a night in each, but kept moving. the Louisiana bayous were fascinating, but we woke with a swarm of mosquitos INSIDE the bus at three in the morning. We left quickly in the dark morning hours windows down and wind blowing, past hurricane demolished towns and rebuilt houses perched precariously on stilts and man made hills (as if that's gonna stop a hurricane that wants to tear you down). We decided that the forces of nature definitely did not want people living there and wondered why people stubbornly refuse to leave. I guess all the oil drilling companies that dot the shoreline must pay well.

We headed into Texas and straight for Austin, where Daniel's little brother lives. Austin is remarkably like Seattle; lots of good music and food, a love for art, and hipsters in tight black jeans and tattoos. Much better taco trucks though. We spent a few days with daniel's little bro, Eric, and his sweetheart of a lady. It was good to see such kind faces in the middle of a strange land.
We headed out from Austin with the intention of pushing through and getting out of Texas ASAP. But as we should have known, when you live life letting the forces around you decide your destination, you rarely end up where you think you are going.

Juniper decided she couldn't go any further a couple hundred miles outside of El Paso. A little border town called Sierra Blanca to be exact. If anyone has ever been to this part of the world, my sympathies.

You may have heard of the drug wars/border problems/crime and poverty that oozes from this region. Its no joke. El Paso and Cuidad Juarez lie on either side of the border, but really they are one huge city split in half by hate, fear, prejudice, greed, and a barbed wire fence. its like a gritty desert version of the Berlin wall. its truely bizarre.

We were lucky though, Sierra Blanca was sleepy town far enough out of the city that we only had glimpses of what was around us through the constant flow of border patrol trucks (which came equipped with caged camper shells that looked sickeningly like animal control trucks). The people in Sierra Blanca were warm and friendly, and welcomed us like they had Seattle hippies breaking down in their parking lot all the time. We were strangely blessed. We stayed a week, long enough to get some new parts, pull the engine, and put it back. We lived on the side of a freeway, in a parking lot, next to a truck stop. Its amazing what you can make feel like home if you have to.

We left Christmas Eve and headed into New Mexico. We splurged on a hotel room as a christmas present to each other (really for the shower! hot showers are better than gold when you live on the road). We headed west through the mountains in Cibola National forest, stayed a night in the snow, and then headed into Arizona.

Warm temperatures and Saguaro cactus greeted us as we sailed out of the mountains.