We haven’t even been to Kansas yet but the sentiment holds. The desert view out the trailer window in Red Rock Canyon State Park is world’s apart from the redwood forest that has been home for the last 15 years. The Dixie Chicks are singing on the stereo … “She needs wide open spaces … room to make a big mistake … she needs new places … she knows the high stakes”.

The lyrics resonate.

I just looked out the door. Then I made Steve look with me. OMG! This scene is where I live. My back yard is a desert. At least for tonight and tomorrow. I traded in redwood trees for joshua trees. How do I feel about this?

It’s pretty intense, really. Steve is making me dinner. The dogs and the cat are settled safely within. I am thinking about the reality that my home is where I am and here is my home for now. I live in the desert.

The desert is different than anywhere I have ever lived. It is exposed. Exposed and windy and parched. It is stark. Not as stark as it gets, but stark. I am happy. For tonight, I think the desert is the right place for me to be.

Morning finds us camped above the San Antonio River, and a bike ride from the Arroyo Seco River, in Los Padres National Forest. There are others in the vicinity but camping is dispersed and we can’t see them. It is private, lovely with wildflowers, rich in striking rock formations, and quiet … except for the sound of water over rock, wind in the trees, and the song of birds and frogs. Our first campsite of the trip; not so shabby …

We have met some neighbors, camped around bends and beyond rock faces. Sylva and her husband have been here a couple of weeks already. They have a Four Wheel Camper like ours so we figured them for kindred spirits. Originally from Santa Maria, California, they now live in southwestern Utah. When they come back to California, they camp here and their kids and friends come up and join them. How cool is that? We got tips on good places to go and someone to call should we ever need help passing through Utah. Beyond them a piece, and on the way to a nice swimming hole, is a nice man whose name I can’t remember. His dog is named Hitchcock. And his closest neighbors are two guys, one of whom is from Santa Cruz. Small world, ain’t it? And so far, the world is a good place.

Steve took a bike ride to a swimming hole on the Arroyo Seco. On the way he met a couple, here for the first time like us, but still looking for a place to camp. They have a Four Wheel Camper too, and believe it or not, they are from Santa Cruz. How could he not give them the skinny on where to camp?

I spent some time today working … yes, actually for money … and totally solar powered. And doing yoga in the ramp room. Steve just put a fruity beverage and a bowl of Yumm! Sauce-flavored vegetable-shrimp stir fry in front of me so I’m signing off now. We’re not exactly roughing it, are we?

p.s. okay… it isn’t perfect here. There is poison oak everywhere. Grayson is po’d (take that either way and it’s accurate) because we didn’t want him out. Then when he got out anyway, he got washed. Now he’s locked in his pen. In a perfect world, there would be no poison oak!