1-15-14 - Get a job, sea pig!

Today found us at the Homosassa Springs Wildlife Park. What an awesome place! We stumbled upon it by accident while passing through Clearwater, Florida. It had a gigantic paper mache manatee in front, so of course I demanded we stop. When we went inside we found that it was actually a visitor center for Homosassa Springs Wildlife Park. The entrance fee was only $13.00, and I had always wanted to see a manatee, so we jumped on it. From the visitor center we hopped on a passenger boat that took us on a 20 minute ride up Pepper Creek. The entire park was run by elderly volunteers whose passion and sense of fun was quite contagious. The guide drove the boat up the creek while cracking jokes and pointing out wildlife. We saw several turtles and some beautiful wood ducks in their nests.

When we arrived at the park itself we sat down for a short presentation about manatees. Homosassa Springs is world famous for being "Nature's Fishbowl". The water is clear as air and stays at a constant 72 degrees farenheit year round. Because of this, massive schools of fish congregate in the waters and swim in lazy circles. The manatees, who normally live in the sea grass beds in the ocean, come in for the warmth because cold water will kill them. They have zero sense of natural aggression and are quite curious, so if you snorkel with them they will swim up and feel you with stiff whiskers.

Volunteers go out in kayak the shallow waters to count the wild manatees and look for sick or injured animals. One of the volunteers proudly proclaims she has the best job in the world with a smile that said more than words ever could.

I personally fall a little in love with the manatees myself. They look like giant grey footballs full of jello, with big flat tails and wisened old faces. They aren't terribly quick or coordinated, and their preferred method of stopping seems to be to just bumble into whatever object is in front of them. They have a huge body percentage dedicated to lung, and they can stay underwater for up to 20 minutes when resting. We watch them eat lettuce with their prehensile upper lip, using their adorable little flippers to push food into their mouth when it floats away. I can't help but giggle at their well natured, bumbling antics.

After the manatees we stroll around the rest of the park, which includes a reptile house and a shore bird aviary. My favorite part about this park is that they only have animals and plants that are native to Florida! The one exception is a 6,000 lb hippopotamous named Lu. Apparently the Governor of Florida made him an honorary citizen to prevent him from being put down!

No, really, come closer. I don't bite! Hehehhe....

This little guy was begging for treats and was quite curious about Dave's camera.

The flamingos were funny to watch. They looked like muppets or hand puppets! They milled around in constantly moving stately circles with their noses in the air, squawking and honking loud enough to raise the dead. They all look quite dignified, disgruntled spoiled socialites.

11-13-14 - Tide Swamp National Wildlife Refuge

Our usual days consist of a couple hours of driving and running whatever errands we might have, then coaxing the van down all sorts of atrocious backroads it has no business being on. We scoped out the map and found an area titled "Tide Swamp N.W.R." NWR's, or National Wildlife Refuge areas, are all over here in Florida. They are tracts of land set aside for hunting, ORV use, resource management, and preservation of native plant and animal species. They are usually marked only on the map and are somewhat difficult to spot if you don't know they're there. 

Today was no exception and we barrelled down a two-lane highway at 60 MPH, trying to scope out dirt roads. 

"There's one!" I hollered

Dave, as is our system, slammed on the brakes hard, somehow bringing Charlie to a stop in less than two car lengths without flinging our belongings in all directions. He's a true miracle van handler.

We shot off down the sand and dirt road into the NWR, trailing a cloud of dust and exhaust. I even get a picture of Dave wrestling Charlie through an epic water crossing. That is a happy face indeed.

Once off the hectic pace of the highway, we slowed down to enjoy the scenery. There is an incredible amount of biodiversity and wildlife here, and we love taking it all in. We have started getting into more stereotypical "Florida" type forests of cypress, palm, and mangrove, hugged by vines thick as my wrist and draped in Spanish moss. The water is deep black and shallow, and if we sit still and settle, frogs chorus at us in strange voices that sound like twisting balloon rubber and squeaking shoes. We see great white egrets, roseate spoonbill, turkey vultures, wild turkey, whitetail deer, and even an armadillo! They're all quick and hard to catch photos of.

The next day we move on to another sandy area farther down the highway. The new spot is in an oak forest, a completely different environment than the spot we just stayed. Dark swamp has been replaced by twisted oak trees and dry leaves. There is an incredible variety and abundance of fungus here, and I see lots of sign of boar rummaging in the leaves. I also spot several large dens dug in the sand, possibly by a tortoise or some large mammal. Squirrels chatter irritably at me and a cardinal follows me for over a mile as I wander down a horse trail through the woods. He chirps at me in loud staccatos, cocking his head and flicking his tail.

It rained like Hell for the next two days, so we stay put and sat it out. On the second day I couldn't take the grime anymore and set up our shower for it's first test. We are using a Trekker pop-up shelter and a 4 gallon pressurized shower canister heated by a 1lb propane tank. It works beautifully! I took a long, hot shower while the rain came pouring down outside. It was a great feeling.

1-11-14 - Ochlockonee State Park

Due to our headlight failure, we were stuck in the Sopchoppy area for 2 more nights, until our part would arrive at the local post office. I was near rabid for a hot shower and we wanted to be able to plug in to shore power, so we decided to stay at the Ochlockonee River State Park. I warned you there were going to be more ridiculous names, didn't I?

It turned out to be a real diamond in the rough! Normally we are somewhat "boondock purists" and don't like staying at fee campgrounds, due to them being overcrowded and expensive and not "real camping". I'm glad we did though! The staff were incredibly friendly and helpful, the campsites private, and the facilities really pretty.

We set up the van and got out to have a wander around the area. The park had a great amount of easy-to-spot wildlife. Unique to this area were pure white squirrels, a genetic mutation on the native squirrels. There was also a white fawn that we just caught a glimpse of browsing in the tall grass. It was misty and damp, but warm, and we were the only ones out. We wandered through the woods and down to the Ochlockonee River. The waters were the color of rich black tea and still as a pane of glass. Content with our wanderings, we headed back to the van for dinner.

When we left Dave's friend in Port Lavaca, Texas, he gave us a pound of elk hamburger. It was then that I discovered the recipe for THE BEST DAMN ELK BURGERS EVER. The recipe is now up on the "Two Pot Recipe" tab above. We stuffed ourselves on the pan-fried burgers topped with beefsteak tomato, caramelized onions, and chipotle mayo.

In the morning we woke to the sound of loud, cracking thunder. It was about 70 degress and intensely humid. I woke up early and listened for a while, counting the seconds between strobes of lightning and the thunder. I decided to go take a shower, and I could hear the rain coming down in sheets and the thunder pounding as I relaxed in the hot steam. Soothed and happy, I stepped out to walk back to the van and was greeted by a wall of falling water. The skies had positively opened up, and I got a second, not-so-enjoyable shower on my walk back. When I came around the corner to see the van I was greeted by this sight:

Free lakefront property!

I heaved a resigned sigh and slogged through the 3" deep puddle to the van. After some delicate maneuvering and very wet feet we managed to get to high ground and dry out a bit. We checked out and headed into town to do work on our overflowing laundry basket at a local laundromat.

As soon as we stepped in the doors, all Hell broke loose outside. Rain came roaring down like a pressure washer on high, wind gusted signs over and slammed the doors, and the thunder ripped the sky with sound. All of us inside the laundromat watched in awe as the storm tore a wet, messy path through town. Then, as quickly as it began, it broke. The sun peeked through the clouds and the wind and rain quieted.

I love a good thunderstorm and I hopped back into the van with a happy smile.


Don't forget to check out Dave's blog for more pics, and touched up ones!!
Copy and paste the following into your browser bar! supertrip5000.blogspot.com

1-8-14 - I Made it Through the Wilderness

Who said living in a van sucks? Why do we look down on this lifestyle as a society? The beer is plentiful and the food is hot and savory. We have all the time in the world to sit and take in the patting of rain on the roof, the calls of frogs, and the trees saying "Shhhhhh…" in the wind. We wrap ourselves in what clothes we have, we head in the direction that suits us each day. Our days are spontaneous and each night we all three settle in to bed with contented sighs.



In the morning I usually wake first, sometimes to muted rain drops, sometimes to sun and blue sky. I put on a pot of water to boil for coffee and sit taking deep breaths in the silence. If it's cold, I snuggle back in bed with Dave until the coffee sputters and spits. If not, I step outside to check what has happened in the night and to examine how our new landscape looks in the light. When we both have a steaming cup of coffee, I get breakfast going. We both slurp down huge, hot portions of breakfast burritos or eggs and toast with a side of grapefruit juice.



I do miss daily hot showers, which surprisingly is the only modern convenience I really can't do without. Everything else is perfect. We are camping all the time, but without the discomforts that come with sleeping on the ground and carrying your home on your back. We have shelter, water, food, the ability to travel, and each other. Although some might see this lifestyle as a sacrifice, I revel in the luxury of it every day.



Tonight we found ourselves winding back into the Apalachicola National Forest. (I warn you, there are many more incomprehensible and downright ridiculous names to come, so hang in there with the pronunciation. Your guess is as good as mine on most of these.) The roads are white sand and red, powdery earth bordered in all directions by spindly pine trees and saw palmetto. Occasionally we'll catch a glimpse of black, still water that give me the shivers. As we pass one such pond I just catch sight of an otter's cream-colored belly flashing, and with a splash he disappears into the inky water.

The light fades as we drive deeper into the forest, and soon we're engulfed in darkness. It is at this point that the van's headlights stop working.

Dave swears and works the switch, and I grip the seat's armrests with white knuckles. The rutted dirt road becomes visible in strobe light flashes as the headlights sputter on and off, on and off. The farther we go, the worse it becomes until we look like some sort of blinking satellite beacon, bumping and fumbling down the road. I nervously whistle a few bars of a tune.
"I made it through the wilderness, you know I made it through-ooh."


Luckily Dave is an excellent driver and we navigate the potholes and sand washes without wiping out. We take the next side road, and find that it dead ends in brush and swamp and with great relief set up camp for the night. The woods here spook me and I find voodoo and ghost stories a little easier to believe than normal. We walk back on an overgrown side path that ends in a swamp of mirror-calm water as black as tar. For reasons I can't explain the water and the heavy stillness raise the hairs on the back of my neck, and I hurry back to the van with nervous backwards glances. We have a fire that night to ward of chills of many kinds, and I sleep fitfully.

1-7-14 - Cold.

It's cold.

Not a reasonable "oh, I can put on a sweater" cold. Not like rosy-cheeked cups of cocoa around the fire cold. It's bitingly, bitterly cold, with a windchill of zero degrees. As Ron White said, when asked what the temperature was, "There doesn't appear to be one."

We stopped in a small backwoods town called Vernon, which apparently was the location of a documentary in the 80's. It was ever-so-originally titled "Vernon, Florida". We ate at Dee's Diner which served up fried meat and pickles in truly mind boggling quantities. The waitress warned us of the incoming cold front in a slow Southern drawl, with temperatures supposed to drop to 17 degrees overnight, with a windchill below zero.

We slept at a Water Management District area last night. These are all over the state and are similar to our forestry areas, with long, sandy backroads leading off in all directions. The dominant vegetation here is some type of pine, puny little thin sticks with tufts of long needles on top. I had seen similar pines in the forests of Idaho, but they look out of place here when surrounded by white sand, palm fronds, and climbing vines.

As we drove down one sandy track we let Jax out to stretch his legs. He ran ahead and we paced him in the van as going 15 miles per hour! He ran until his tongue lolled out and he collapsed into a happily panting pile back inside the warm confines of our steel abode.

The land outside has been eroded by past rains. We found a shotgun shell on a pillar of earth, and tiny miniature Martian landscapes less than an inch tall.

As the temperature fell outside, we passed the time by drinking cheap beer and playing Backgammon. We watched a few episodes of "An Idiot Abroad" before falling asleep. It's a hilarious British TV show about a very unwilling man being sent abroad to see the 7 wonders of the world. I highly recommend it!

When we woke up in the morning the world was frozen solid. It had indeed fallen to 17 degrees, and possibly even colder, in the night. My water bottle had been sitting in the footwell of the passenger seat and was completely frozen. We passed a fountain that had formed itself into an intricate ice cascade when someone carelessly left it running through the night.

Today was a day for errands, including the purchase of a second house battery to run in paralell with our current one. This will give us greater lengths of time between necessary charges, and let us stay out in the boonies even longer! Tonight we're headed to the Apalachicola National Forest to wait out the last cold day before the weather breaks.

New Years

Happy New Year, y'all!

We're South of Baton Rouge tonight at a truck stop on highway 30. Unfortunately we haven't had much luck finding scenic sleeping spots here in the South, as much of the land is private or inaccesible. There's a nasty winter storm coming through here and it's been a cold the last few days. Tonight it's 30 degrees and falling.

We stayed with one of Dave's friends from back home in Port Lavaca, Texas for New Years. Port Lavaca and the surrounding area is entirely dedicated to refineries and other massive industrial complexes. While driving at night they appear out of the darkness as sinister islands of steam and orange light, like a hundred modern Mordors. In the daylight they are incomprehensible tangles of steel pipe that wrap around huge cylindrical holding tanks.  Everyone who lives here is in some way an employee of the refining company. Dave's friend works for a company that handles boxite, one of the raw materials that will become aluminum. The other plants handle plastics, oil, and other such toxic yet necessary evils. He told us a little about the dangers of the process, how you might notice a drop of liquid fall on you and think nothing of it, and later in the day find a searing chemical burn where it contacted your skin. Despite the dangers, the pay is good and the work necessary.

It rained lightly for a while, and we sat inside talking. Dave's friend is no fan of Texas and he filled us in on the many forms of discomfort inflicted upon it's residents. Aside from the constant tortures of fire ants, no-see-ums, poisonous snakes, scorpions, wild hogs, and vast multitudes of mosquitos there are tornados, hurricanes, exhausting humid heat and freezing ice storms. Add that to the heavy racist undertones, legal corporal punishment in schools, environmental pollution, rampant poverty and complete lack of any even marginally healthy or organic food sources, and you have a pretty clear idea why the companies here have to pay such a hefty relocation bonus to lure employees to move out here.

Despite the flaws of Texas, we still had a wonderful time with him and his family. The rain cleared off and a few friends joined us for a bonfire, and we welcomed in the new year with sleepy smiles.

We headed out late the next day via Point Comfort, another refinery town amongst many here on the gulf coast. The sun set and we happened to be driving right through a huge Valero refinery that stretched for miles on each side of the road. The lighting was interesting, and we pulled over to snap a couple quick pictures. Less than 30 seconds after stopping a police car whizzed by and I felt a sinking in my gut as the brakes went on and the car headed back towards us. The officer pulled in behind us and got out of the car. It was a young woman, looking very on edge, with no hint of friendliness. Dave got out to talk to her and explain what we were doing. There was a tense exchange of words, with Dave placatingly showing her the camera and explaining we wanted no trouble. She shined a light in the windows of the RV and onto Jax and I. After a few terse questions, she left and we scrammed the Hell out. I understand the high security risks of such a huge factory, and we didn't want to risk getting arrested for a few pictures. We made it over the state line that night into Louisiana and slept at a boat launch near more refineries, watching the massive tankers come in and out with heavy loads. The wind was insane that night and I didn't get much sleep.

So far Louisiana is an improvement. We had some delicious shrimp po boys at a small diner type restaurant to celebrate our long awaited freedom from the depressing expanse of Texas. The accents here are thick and hard to understand, yet wonderful to listen to. I listen in on every conversation I can, gleefully noting the use of phrases like "who dat?" and "heard dat dem der". Whenever I speak, I'm painfully aware of how very different I sound and I wonder if I have an accent to them.

On our way East we stopped at the Brec's Bluebonnet Swamp Nature Center, in Baton Rouge. It's tucked away in the city and you'd never know it's there if you weren't looking. It turned out to be great, only $3 a person. The center had some snakes and other reptiles on display, as well as a European Starling that knew 30 words and countless whistles and tunes.

After checking that out we headed down the trail through the swamp. We saw cardinals, blue jays, and fat squirrels building nests out of oak leaves. We also found the strangest, most alien plant I've ever seen in my life. It's called a Columned Stinkhorn and it's a fungus. The exterior is an innocent looking white globe, much like a puffball mushroom or a small egg. That is, until it explodes in a horrific, Alien-like maneuver. The inside holds a coiled red structure with a texture like a wet Cheeto. The Cheeto is held safe and snug, gestating in clear gelatinous mucous until the time is right and the mushroom sends it exploding out, leaving a slimy white husk behind. Not only that, but it's predatory, using an ungodly foul smell to lure unsuspecting insects in, which it then digests. Isn't nature beautiful?

We wanted to spend a full day in New Orleans, so we found a truck stop out on Highway 30 in Saint Gabriel to stay the night.
I spent nearly an hour talking to a strange old trucker from Alabama who recounted to me all the woes of his life in a slow Southern accent, with a smile on his face the whole while. He got into several graphic descriptions of trucking accidents he'd seen and was just starting to tell me about a man who got decapitated when I finally managed to politely make my escape.

Now I am out in the van, bundled in every piece of clothing I own and preparing for sleep. Tomorrow we see New Orleans and gorge on Cajun food!

1-5-14 - New Orleans

I woke up poorly rested after a night spent at a busy truck stop. Semi-Truck diesel engines rattled the van and the temperatures sunk to below 30 degrees in the night. I find myself missing the natural beauty and silence of the West, and counting down the days till summer.

We hopped back on the highway towards New Orleans and started talking to pass the miles. I don't watch the news because I feel it presents a skewed and sensationalist view of events. I'd rather speak to people who experienced something firsthand. Dave, on the other hand, reads the news regularly online. He started to recount to me the horrors of Hurricane Katrina, which hit New Orleans in 2005. He started to recount to me the stories of police brutality and human cruelty and I found tears welling up in my eyes.

It is a very, very different experience to read these things in the newspaper than it is to be seeing them firsthand. The papers coldly recount numbers and figures and you remain safely distanced from the emotion of the thing, from the pain and the struggle. Now that we are heading directly to the city where so many awful things happened, it strikes home hard.

Who am I to be the tourist? How can I be close to so much suffering and not help? I feel that by being aware of the pain of others and not being spurred to help in some way, we are doing exactly that. My whole life has been a priviledged, selfish endeavour, lived entirely based on my own pleasures and whims.

I said once before that travel changes you, and often not in a way you'd expect. Sometimes it is not in a way you would like. It is uncomfortable. Growth often is. When I set out on this trip I had a vague hope that I'd discover what I'd like to do with my life, and that is beginning to become a reality. It's not in the way that I had imagined though. For now I will see this journey through and try and embrace what it can bring me, try and embrace my growing pains and see the world with open eyes.

These thoughts hung heavy on my mind as we pulled into New Orleans. Looking at the city from an outside perspective, you would never know anything had happened. Little hints give it away when you begin to look though; all the buildings have fresh paint, faded waterlines on some of the signs, heavy floodgates against the water. I try to shake off the dark mood and enjoy it.

It is Saturday and the tourist streets are crowded. There are street musicians and buskers on every corner. Three adorable little boys tap dance for cash, and I throw them a couple singles. They beam up and say "Thank you, pretty lady! Hundred dolla bill!".  We quickly tire of wandering through stands hocking knockoff sunglasses, dried alligator heads, and fake silver jewelry. They stretch on for miles here. We find a cajun cafe called Desire and duck inside for a meal.


My mood is not stellar to begin with and the throngs of fat, white tourists wearing beads and slurping down 40 oz daquiris has not improved it. It does not feel authentic or real, simply a facade for people to gawk at and pass. Another example of American tourists treating the world as their own personal dive bar.

And then there's these guys...

A couple stiff Mint Juleps begin to lighten my stormy outlook, and we set to work on some delicious Cajun food. We started with gumbo and drinks, then I moved on to an oyster Rockefeller Po Boy. Dave had a mixed platter of deep fried shrimp, oysters, hush puppies and crab cakes. We left entirely stuffed and waddled back to the van to move on.

We both mumbled remarks about staying outside the city and coming back the next day, but neither of us had our hearts in it.
Later that night we crossed the Mississippi state line and slept at the Welcome Center. It's the nicest we've seen, with designated RV spots separate from the trucks, large grassy areas, clean bathrooms, WIFI, and free coffee. Here we learned that due to an unexpected cold front sweeping the nation, temperatures will be dropping to below 20 degrees at night. We plan to get on the highway and hopefully make Florida by tonight.

GPS Tutorial: Transferring Garmin waypoints to Google Maps - KML to CSV

After much fuss and ado, I've finally uploaded a Google map with our waypoints to the blog! Check out the "Where in the World" tab above this post to see a map of all our sleeping spots and the odd point of interest.

It took hours of research and much swearing to finally get this all figured out, so I'd like to post a tutorial here to help any other people who would like to make it easy on themselves.

It may help to know that for this tutorial I used a Garmin Montana 600, and these directions may not be exactly the same from device to device.


NOTE: You will need three programs to make this work. Garmin Basecamp, Google Earth, and a KML conversion program. I used KMLCSV Converter, a free program you can download here: http://sourceforge.net/projects/kmlcsv/

There's a great tutorial for using it here: http://choonchernlim.com/kmlcsv/tutorials/using-kmlcsv-converter-with-google-earth/

Create a folder on your desktop titled "Garmin Conversions" or some other name that makes sense. You will need it in a moment.

1. Plug your GPS device into your computer and open Garmin Basecamp.
2. If your device does not automatically upload your most recent waypoints and tracks, do so manually.
3. Select the items you want to be in your Google map. This may include waypoints and tracks. I stuck with simple waypoints for my map.
4. Once the items are highlighted, select "view" from the upper menu bar, then "Google Earth", and "add selected".
5. Google Earth should open automatically. The "Places" window on the left of the screen will have two subcategories, "My Places" and "Temporary". There should now be a file titled "Basecamp" in the "Temporary" category.
6. Right click on "Basecamp" and select "Save Place as.."
7. Save the file to the folder you previously created on the desktop. Save the file as a .KML.
8. Close Google Earth and open up your desktop folder. There should now be a file inside called "Basecamp.KML"
9. Open KMLCSV Converter.
10. Select "File" from the upper menu bar, then "Configure". This will tell the program where it should look for KML files when it is opened.
11. Under the "File Management" header, select "Browse". Navigate to your folder on the desktop and select it. Select "OK"
12. On the left of the screen you should now see your "Basecamp" file under the KML header. Double click on this file.
13. All your waypoints and tracks will now appear in the window to the right. If it looks correct, select "Create File" below.
14. Now there will be a CSV file in your folder on the desktop!
15. Open maps.google.com and log in to your account.
16. At the bottom right of the screen will be a small icon shaped like a gear. Click it and select "My Places" then "Create Map".
17. Name your map whatever you fancy and add some notes.
18. Select "Import". Open the folder on your desktop, and drag and drop the CSV file onto the box in Google Maps. Make sure it's the CSV and not the KML!
19. You now have an awesome Google map you can share with your friends! Share on social media using the quick icons, or use an invite-only link. You can also embed the map into your website or blog.


I hope this helps you get through the process fairly painfully! Feel free to ask any questions you might have in the comments below.
Happy Travels!

12-28-13 - Texas, part 2.

Dave and I finally arrived at his mother's house in Alvarado, Texas, exhausted and disheartened. His mother and brother live here, as well as 5 horses and 5 dogs. We spent Christmas together, and several days after.

Dave's mother loves horses dearly. She rides in and judges drill competitions and has even been published. She's an accomplished back country horse woman and teaches classes on the "leave no trace" camping techniques.

Their family was originally from Washington, and we watched some old family videos on our last night in Alvarado. The dark, mist coated pines and still lakes pierced me deeper than I ever thought possible, and left a single, lonely word echoing around my mind: home. Only a month on the road, and already homesick? Some world traveler I've turned out to be.

I find myself struggling for the right words here in Texas. It is a place within my own country, yet worlds apart from the one I have known, and I try to see the beauty that must lie here somewhere. For now I will leave you with pictures to speak more eloquently than I can, in the hopes that you can form your own impressions.