Hello! This is the very first blog post I have ever written, ever. Kind of an intimidating thought, that, but onward we go. I believe in Rip's theories about the beauty and necessity of taking in life off the freeways every now and again. My husband of 11 years, Ty, and I have been avid road trippers since we started dating. With the arrival of our daughter, Gabby, 2 years ago, our lives changed dramatically for the better, but there were a few casualties, the prevailing whimsicality of a road trip being one of them. Recently, we've decided to steal some of the whimsy back. "Recently" being "last weekend".
It had indeed been a while since we had been out on the open road. Ty came home from work around noon to find Gabby and I held hostage indoors by the brutal 112 degree heat. He said he did not have to work the next couple of days, and what did I think about going camping? I thought it was the best idea ever! We hurriedly packed and looked online for fire-permitted areas, and were on the road in under an hour.
Here she is, our little Camperoo.
Yes, she really is that cute almost all the time. And I'm totally not biased or anything.
Shortly, we began to encounter mountains. I should probably note at this point that with a few obvious exceptions, I took these photos from a moving vehicle, so bear with me. If you look closely, the rocks at the forefront bottom of this picture resemble a gorilla.
I am like a happy puppy on road trips. I put my tongue back in my mouth and my sunglasses on to try and look cool, but inside I was like this.
The 60, heading toward the White Mountains. Specifically, Greer. I had never been there ... had only heard tell tale of a wooded, be-cabined, nearly pristine place frequented almost entirely by nature and adventure lovers, and offering some of the loveliest non-primitive camping around. Since it's sort of not camping without a campfire, and campfires right now are only permitted in designated sites, we decided to go cush, not rough. But more on that in a bit.
On the way to Greer, we first passed through Miami and Globe. Miami might be a mining town, but they recycle.
The town of Miami has a certain metallic feel to it. Everywhere you look, there is something built out of metal. Living in a suburb, I guess I've gotten used to the prevalence of concrete. Metal ages so much differently than concrete. It rusts, it bends, rain sounds percussive falling on it. Given the choice of building materials, I think I'd take metal any day over concrete.
Here is one of the Miami mines, a copper mine, I believe.
Sometimes on road trips, I feel a kinship with my fellow travellers. Admittedly, it's not usually with the q-tips in the the big white Caddy going 15 under the speed limit; nor with the teens in their tricked out imports treating the switchbacks like a real-life video game. This vehicle seemed like my people. Look at it -- doesn't it just look happy? "Come follow me! Who knows where we'll end up?" And as our paths coincided for a stretch, follow we did.
Now I would like to present some vintage neon signage shots I took in the Miami-Globe area, and dedicate them to my friend and colleague, B, a noted aficionado of neon.
As the afternoon wore on, and the driving continued, our little Camperoo began to wilt a bit. Here she is zoning out on some Thomas the Tank Engine.
Afternoon turned the corner into dusk. As we approached Greer, and the sunlight began to fade, I tried my best to capture what I could of the scenery from the car.
At last we arrived in Greer, and not a moment too soon. Within minutes of this photo, we were in pitch darkness, and still not ensconced in a campsite.
And here, my friends, is where it all began to unravel. Every campsite in all three areas was occupied. This was not a total surprise; our whimsicality meant we got on the road later and other folks beat us to the punch. No big deal, campfires are fun, but not a necessity, so we decided to go primitive, which would also give us privacy. Ty knows the area quite well, and in no time we were at the turn-off ... and the road was closed.
After a bit of off-roading (which was a feat in itself in our low-profile vehicle), we came to a clearing in the woods. Under typical lighting conditions, it would have appeared as a vast patch of thick darkness amidst patchier pieces of tree-shaped darkness. That night, however, there was a full moon -- the brightest, clearest, quietest moon I may have ever seen. The area was empty of any trace of humanity, populated only by sweet-smelling pines, tall grasses, and a stillness that nearly broke my heart. It was already dark, and our campsite would keep. Ty stopped the car, turned off Gabby's movie, and we sat in silence and stared. This was peace, and my heart drank it up through my eyes. Looking back, we'd have happily driven hours more had we known those moments were waiting; but we didn't know, and there is something magical in that.
After setting up camp with the aid of the flashlight moon, we played with Gabby for hours, and still, she was nowhere near sleep, as evidenced by this photo, taken around 11pm.
It was so fun being outdoors with her, watching her romp, laugh and explore her nighttime playground. However, after we attempted to put her to bed, and she managed to climb out of her pack n' play a half dozen times, we realized we may have bitten off more than we could chew. Neither Ty nor I wanted to spend the weekend sleepless and exhausted; we desired to enjoy as much of it as possible. We weighed our options, deciding, at last, to wave the white flag, pack up, and decamp to my parent's home an hour away in Show Low. Part II of this adventure will pick up from there ...
It had indeed been a while since we had been out on the open road. Ty came home from work around noon to find Gabby and I held hostage indoors by the brutal 112 degree heat. He said he did not have to work the next couple of days, and what did I think about going camping? I thought it was the best idea ever! We hurriedly packed and looked online for fire-permitted areas, and were on the road in under an hour.
Here she is, our little Camperoo.
Yes, she really is that cute almost all the time. And I'm totally not biased or anything.Shortly, we began to encounter mountains. I should probably note at this point that with a few obvious exceptions, I took these photos from a moving vehicle, so bear with me. If you look closely, the rocks at the forefront bottom of this picture resemble a gorilla.
I am like a happy puppy on road trips. I put my tongue back in my mouth and my sunglasses on to try and look cool, but inside I was like this.
The 60, heading toward the White Mountains. Specifically, Greer. I had never been there ... had only heard tell tale of a wooded, be-cabined, nearly pristine place frequented almost entirely by nature and adventure lovers, and offering some of the loveliest non-primitive camping around. Since it's sort of not camping without a campfire, and campfires right now are only permitted in designated sites, we decided to go cush, not rough. But more on that in a bit.
On the way to Greer, we first passed through Miami and Globe. Miami might be a mining town, but they recycle.
The town of Miami has a certain metallic feel to it. Everywhere you look, there is something built out of metal. Living in a suburb, I guess I've gotten used to the prevalence of concrete. Metal ages so much differently than concrete. It rusts, it bends, rain sounds percussive falling on it. Given the choice of building materials, I think I'd take metal any day over concrete.
Here is one of the Miami mines, a copper mine, I believe.
Sometimes on road trips, I feel a kinship with my fellow travellers. Admittedly, it's not usually with the q-tips in the the big white Caddy going 15 under the speed limit; nor with the teens in their tricked out imports treating the switchbacks like a real-life video game. This vehicle seemed like my people. Look at it -- doesn't it just look happy? "Come follow me! Who knows where we'll end up?" And as our paths coincided for a stretch, follow we did.
Now I would like to present some vintage neon signage shots I took in the Miami-Globe area, and dedicate them to my friend and colleague, B, a noted aficionado of neon.
As the afternoon wore on, and the driving continued, our little Camperoo began to wilt a bit. Here she is zoning out on some Thomas the Tank Engine.
Afternoon turned the corner into dusk. As we approached Greer, and the sunlight began to fade, I tried my best to capture what I could of the scenery from the car.
At last we arrived in Greer, and not a moment too soon. Within minutes of this photo, we were in pitch darkness, and still not ensconced in a campsite.
And here, my friends, is where it all began to unravel. Every campsite in all three areas was occupied. This was not a total surprise; our whimsicality meant we got on the road later and other folks beat us to the punch. No big deal, campfires are fun, but not a necessity, so we decided to go primitive, which would also give us privacy. Ty knows the area quite well, and in no time we were at the turn-off ... and the road was closed.
After a bit of off-roading (which was a feat in itself in our low-profile vehicle), we came to a clearing in the woods. Under typical lighting conditions, it would have appeared as a vast patch of thick darkness amidst patchier pieces of tree-shaped darkness. That night, however, there was a full moon -- the brightest, clearest, quietest moon I may have ever seen. The area was empty of any trace of humanity, populated only by sweet-smelling pines, tall grasses, and a stillness that nearly broke my heart. It was already dark, and our campsite would keep. Ty stopped the car, turned off Gabby's movie, and we sat in silence and stared. This was peace, and my heart drank it up through my eyes. Looking back, we'd have happily driven hours more had we known those moments were waiting; but we didn't know, and there is something magical in that.
After setting up camp with the aid of the flashlight moon, we played with Gabby for hours, and still, she was nowhere near sleep, as evidenced by this photo, taken around 11pm.
It was so fun being outdoors with her, watching her romp, laugh and explore her nighttime playground. However, after we attempted to put her to bed, and she managed to climb out of her pack n' play a half dozen times, we realized we may have bitten off more than we could chew. Neither Ty nor I wanted to spend the weekend sleepless and exhausted; we desired to enjoy as much of it as possible. We weighed our options, deciding, at last, to wave the white flag, pack up, and decamp to my parent's home an hour away in Show Low. Part II of this adventure will pick up from there ...
