Phoenix rising

We limped a little into Phoenix, still having mysterious issues with juniper here and there. She's a high maintenance lady for sure, and Daniel has learned so much about how she works, but after Texas and really everything she's been through he was starting to wonder if it was all worth it. Cue Phoenix, AZ. We had been so used to finding our own way and having people think we were crazy for driving an antique across the country that we were astonished to find the SW full of people crazier than we were!
There were VWs all over Phoenix, and within a week we were directed to Richard and Dawn, who with their twenty some VW's in various places in various stages of repair, thought we were anything but crazy and proceeded to open their home and garage to us for the month of January. Richard and Daniel worked on rebuilding Juniper's engine, an opportunity for Daniel to really get his hands into the heart of her and work out any kinks. They brought us to our first VW gathering in Lake Havasu...and we were born again VW lovers. We spent the month with the family, playing with the kids, tinkering in various engines, learning to felt, and soaking in some SW winter sunshine...
We were renewed and refreshed as we headed out of Arizona, glad again that we had chosen this old and quirky car for our transportation around America. There is something transformative in the very nature of a Volkswagen. They were built to last if you are willing to invest patience and care into their upkeep. They are simple and well made with the intention of being accessible to everyone who cares to try. They are a rare breed in this age of quick fix, disposable, no effort products. They also represent redemption and reinvention, their origin is rooted in one of the greatest and highly publicized evils of Germany (Nazism) and transformed into the hippy, peace and love, grassroots symbol of America. We think that's rather symbolic and we ride with pride. Onward to California and the motherland of beachbums,the hippy movement, and Leah.

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.

Leaving East of the Sun

Our last couple of months have been spent with family in New York and New Jersey. The cool summer temperatures dropped lower and lower, the leaves started turning, and the mornings began to feel bitter and sharp. Until that time we worked and explored what we could of the North Fork, Fire Island, Manhattan, and New Jersey... It was really good and important for Daniel and I to spend some extended time with both of our eastern Families. We both have spent so much time away from them, and feel the loss. To be able to take some time and just have some good conversations, share some good food, and see each other for the real, living, beautiful, flawed, loving, family-strangers that we are. That meant a lot to both of us, toward each of our families and across, because it meant that we were really beginning to know each other in a way that distance has made difficult. We leave with a much greater understanding for who we each are, because of a clearer view of who we come from. We leave with love in our hearts, and new tools for our next journey. We leave grateful that these people are in our lives.

But, work was scarce, the grapes on the vines are unripe and wet, and this winter looks like its going to be cold...or so everyone says. We are setting our sights on The SW, searching for the elusive summer... We are not designed for cold and so we must follow the warmth, towards the West at a Southern angle. Weather has been a little unpredictable these days, but we try to stay in the shadow of the Sun (although we seem to just tail it, and it has felt like a year of Spring and Fall).
On our way out of the NE corridor, we stopped in DC. At the Capitol building, amid white marble and gleaming roman pillars, a protest/demonstration was taking place to protest the lack of attention and resources being given to addressing real answers to the problems of climate change. truely Democracy in action. I was proud for a moment of our system... although it was also a statement of how inadequate our efforts can be without a clear message behind them, because even though the demonstration was eye catching and visually interesting, their reason behind it was very unclear and vague. When you are standing in front of the Capital building, with a group of people attentive...you should probably have something to say (at least something that makes sense). It left us feeling both proud and disappointed. I guess Washington DC in general had that feel.

We were so relieved to step out of the concrete swirls, the towering shining walls of windows, the lights on everywhere, people crammed into every little pocket, and art (beautiful as it can be) always seeming to reflect the surreal scream of a silenced person.




We climbed the hills heading West and made our way to the top of the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia. We drove almost four hundred miles down the crest of the hills, skimming along the Shenandoah valley and the Appalachian mountain range. A beautiful time of year to do it! Although I believe they call folks like us leafers. But I don't mind being a tourist for this kind of art, it was unlike anything this NW native has really seen before! I don't even think my pictures actually do it justice, it had this otherwordly feel to it that was new and magical.

Now we settle and catch our bearings for a couple weeks, tinker with the bus, scope out any work, and enjoy Western North Carolina, which is definitely on our list of best places in the whole wide world.

The Kingdom

We chugged into the hills of Vermont early July and headed straight for the capitol. Montpelier is a sweet little town on the Onion river with a thriving art scene, super friendly people, and lots of smiles for our little Juniper.
We are in heaven when the political hub of a state is also one of the most liberal and progressive places there, and in Vermont that means alot. Atop the capital building, there is a statue of Ceres-Goddess of agriculture. This is really our kinda place!!!!

There is of course a whole range of political views in Vermont (as anywhere) but the open and generally accepted philosophies of environmentalism, social justice, personal freedom, support of art, local economies, alternative energy, and conscientious marketing...is unlike anywhere we have ever seen. Seattle looks stodgy, slow and conservative by comparison!! (although Georgia still wins on that one!)

We headed NE to what everyone calls the NE Kingdom on the edge of New Hampshire and Canada. Although, really, the whole of Vermont feels like a Kingdom. Complete with the "US out of Vermont" bumper stickers and local papers dedicated to seceding!

There are an amazing collection of people in this wonderful little corner, all so ready and willing to give us a helping hand and show us the sweet spots. Everyone knows each other here and its like one big extended family...we just keep meeting more cousins! Not to mention the generosity that flows out of everyone here; we have been given work and respected for our trades, given soft beds to sleep in and wonderful meals, offered kayaks for the day, had a stranger buy us a book on hikes just for asking where a good place to go was, been included as volunteers for music festivals so we could experience weekends of music we would never have been able to be a part of on our limited budget, and so much more its overwhelming (in a good way).

We have had some awesome hikes with views that make us miss the Cascades and feel like no matter what, life is worth living. In fact, just driving down the road is a beautiful experience full of breathtaking greens and blues, pastoral meadows spotted with cows and horses, and the prettiest barns we have ever seen!

Vermont is amazing, really and truly, and not just because of the beautiful landscapes but because the people here have made it something rare and precious, they have held on fiercely to what they believe and what they love and it shows in the community and in the land. We've been told we came at the right time, and winters are another story...and from the photos and descriptions of horizontal blizzards and twelve foot drifts of snow, I believe it is something to be reckoned with, but the rugged and difficult months is a part of the power in this land and in its people. Everything and everyone that lives here is a survivor willing to fight tooth and nail for what they believe is true and the life that they love.















When the winter heads to spring and the maples start to flow with syrup, the metaphor is clear: You have survived the harshness of scarcity and the bite of bitter cold, and yet, isn't life sweet? Now there's a lesson worth learning.

Summer in the City

Just before we made our way back to Yankeeland we spent a wonderful two weeks staying just outside Asheville, NC (For anyone looking for great places to end up in the US of A, this area is on the top of our list). We stayed with some really good folk in a little town called Marshall and didn't want to leave...luckily we will see them again in the Fall!
For now, it was time to head up to the land of cities and visit our families before making our way to the great North. We drove for 22 hours with a four hour nap in a grocery store parking lot in Virginia. We skirted DC and Philly, and wrapped around to head east into the thick of urbanity.
We were able to make it to Long Island just in time for Father's day (just don't tell my Dad that, he doesn't believe in it) and spend a few days on the North Fork. We then spent some quality time with Daniel's big beautiful family in NewJersey, and headed to Manhattan for the
fourth of July with Uncle Billy and Uncle Robbie.



Cities are such strange powerful lonely






beautiful overwhelming enticing terrifying creations

































We leave now, moving still North. Caught momentarily in an eddy of family, community, and swirling roots, we pushed at the top of the whirlpool and are flying out towards Canada. We will land soon in the Northeast Kingdom.

The Blue and Smokey hills

May in the south has been cool and rainy, thoughts of the Northwest and Seattle have been hard to avoid and we both are feeling a bit homesick... We have landed in the foothills of western North Carolina, just outside of the Smokey National Park. They don't mince words down here and the area we find ourselves in is called the blue mountains and the Great Smokeys for obvious reasons. Its gorgeous out here, no doubt about it. The farm land is straight out of a dream, or a movie, or a storyteller's imagination- y'know, something that seems too good to be true. The rolling green hills are lush and fertile and there is an amazing history of Appallachian mountaineers who really knew what homesteading was about, although that is being lost quickly and industrial agriculture and nonsustainable practices seem to be the norm here now. We are staying with a family who run a Timber framing business out of their home and ancestral land. Daniel has been hard at work fulltime learning the ancient trade, and its right up his alley, we're both excited about the possibilities it opens up and inspires. I'm putting together their family garden so they will be eating yummy organic foods all summer! We will be staying around a month, just a couple more weeks left, and then exploring the area a bit before we head north for the summer. The people around here aren't quite as sweet as the ones we met in Georgia, mountaineers are a quiet and reserved bunch, but we've been staying in just one area so hopefully when we explore a bit we'll find more kindred spirits! We look forward to seeing a little of Tennessee and Kentucky if we can manage it as well, and these days bluegrass is about all we listen to. The accents here are different as well, less languid and more bubbly. G's are dropped as a matter of course, "and everythang" is tagged on to most sentences, and when you walk into a room full of people you say "Mayonnaise a lot of folk heah!"