#baconhut

Today marks the start of our 4th week on this nutty adventure!

Yesterday, shortly after leaving the Redwoods, we reached that point in our travels along the pacific where the smooth-sailing 101 turns into “The Wiggly 1” as P-noch so aptly tagged it. 

After nearly losing our lunches we pulled over to get our first hotel room. 

We had tuna sandwiches for lunch. You just don’t wanna risk seeing that a second time around.

Also, while planning this trip why nobody stopped to think and ask us how a family of four and their quirky new rescue dog - all of whom suffer from sudden bouts of severe car sickness - ever decided upon the Pacific Coast Highway of all road trips to start with is beyond me, by the way.

Promptly after checking in we put both kids smack-dab in front of the flat screen and poured ourselves a whiskey on ice.

In real glasses.

Then we reveled in the lavishness of it all by doing things like going to the bathroom all night whenever we felt like it without hiking to an outhouse or digging a hole. And taking showers with hot water and no time limits, or spiders. And not sleeping in the clothes we’ve been wearing for three days straight in beds that are suspended in mid-air on a definite slant. And waking up not seeing our own breath.

But mostly the TV. Ohhh how I’ve missed TV.

It really does make the best babysitter.

10.1.2017

When you’re a semi-nomadic homeschool family who enjoys traveling for extended periods, it’s not exactly budget-friendly to stay in campgrounds upwards of $20 and $40 per night. Especially when your very own home state is made up of 60% Public Lands to help meet all of your wild and free camping needs.

You know what else isn’t exactly budget friendly? Feeding growing boys. It’s only the tip of the iceberg over here but I know what’s coming. I still have solid images of my twin brothers both standing in front of the open refrigerator at a lanky 12 years old chugging straight from their own daily allotted gallons of milk.

But it’s also not always the best circumstances, when boondocking in unknown environments in a cumbersome (albeit super cute) little tent trailer, when it takes an hour at best to break down and hitch up and make a precarious getaway, if something were to suddenly go sideways. 

Once we were camping in the Redwoods just after the season had ended and all of the summer vacation families were back to school and their normal routines. It seemed like we had the whole place to ourselves, and we made ourselves right at home accordingly. 

Then, after a while, we had a gang of local unsavories join us nearby after we’d gone to bed, who spent the duration of the night throwing beer bottles, shooting off fireworks, cussing and fighting, and, as we might explain to our kids, “making poor choices.” 

This was one of those times when it would’ve been dynamite to just tuck into the driver's seat and quietly move onward unscathed. Instead, we were left with no choice but to hunker down together within the flimsy walls of our tent trailer reading Goodnight Goodnight Construction Site on repeat, waiting until first light when we could pack down and hitch up in a new record timing of at least 45 minutes, tip toeing in and around an assortment of dirty denim and wife-beater clad bodies passed out on picnic tables and truck beds and redwood needled floors. 

Boys Night in Humboldt County always sounds like a good ol’ time until you wind up accidentally in the middle of it.

Surprisingly, we’re not always complete dolts and have various, reliable procedures in place as far as self protection, including but not limited to a rescued GSD, who was discovered roadside near a military base along with half a dozen others just like her, and - perhaps not coincidentally - shows obvious signs of some next-level training that we can’t even begin to decode. We live in a constant state of bewilderment that during some point in our lives together one of us will unknowingly utter some covert, secret op word from her life before us that unlocks her inner Cujo. Plus she can smell outer space and is smarter than all of us combined. 

So we came to the conclusion that, even though it might make more financial sense to put 10-grand into things like a new roof for the house, or education funds or emergency reserves and what have you, you also can’t really put a price on your peace of mind. Especially when raising Littles. And that’s when, after months of hemming and hawing, and researching and dreaming, Harvey slipped so perfectly into our lives. 

ETA: I just realized all of this has really nothing to do with Harvey’s untimely disappearance. Stay tuned for Part 3.

I woke up to this view and somehow became totally paralyzed by cloud cover that I couldn’t even get out of bed. The morning was just going by and I was completely horizontal and hypnotized by the rain tapping on the canvas roof.

P-noch brought me three cups of coffee in all, and then later, a full plate of bacon to help coerce me out of bed… Which obviously didn’t work because what’s really better in life than rolling around in a bed in the woods with a plate of bacon?

The boys raced outside right at daybreak with their faces turned to the sky and played for two solid hours before being bothered to consider things like hungry tummies or soaking wet pajamas.

We’d been in the desert so long we’d forgotten our circadian rhythms were still preset for the last of the Pacific Northwest hibernation season.

So we packed up and decided to just drive all the way back home the same day after no previous discussions about a timeline. We made it to Portland just before midnight where our apple blossoms are in bloom and the heart-shaped puddle across the street stood by to greet us.

4.11.18

We've made it to SoCal in the time span of one week, which increases our speed from our last trip down here by at least a month. I also broke down and slathered the boys in sunblock today after everyone went to bed with pink cheeks last night. Our translucent Portland winter skin finally has some color, and vitamin D quotas officially met. #feelssogood

3.27.2018

Our new Bacon Hut has a table that doubles as a safe little space for Gerty. While becoming more and more proficient in utilizing every possible inch of space to house five beings in a 12x6 rectangle, this centrally located space acts almost like a crate for Gerty while also keeping her right in the middle of all the action - to her preference.

In this picture, Gerty’s quite content making sure the boys are fully protected from all of the looming dangers... While fully engaged in their screen time.

I’m also very happy that she seems to have outgrown her younger phase from our previous trip of pouncing on the beds at all random hours of the night à la Tigger in Winnie the Pooh, “You still breathing? You good? Need a rescue or anything? No? Okay then, I’ll check back again in three minutes.”

Here, our quirky lil’ rescue Shepherd keeps out of the way in her under-the-table hideaway, and we no longer trip over our dog who happens to be camouflage with the floor.

3.26.18

To you this might just look like a big baby taking a bath in a tiny sink (cuter than a picture can even do justice) but if you look closer, down there, in the bottom right corner, wait, what do we have here? Well none other than Thee Great Blue Bucket. 

A perky little upgrade from Bacon Hut I, Blue Bucket serves the purpose for exactly what you think it does. Conveniently stored away behind the false wall under my bed which we call the basement, along with the extra propane tank and a milk crate full of outside toys. 

A painters bucket and a snap-on toilet seat, a total game changer, with a little help from a trash bag and a generous serving of kitty litter, this puppy right here serves all of our biological needs whenever we can’t get to a public restroom.

 And even though you might be thinking, “oh she can’t even get by without a toilet, bless her heart.” I’ll just take my rightful quick moment to remind you that I made it two months down the Pacific Coast Highway without knowing at any given point in time where I would pop a squat next. 

Plus, mind you, this is also for the boy who lunges out of bed at 6:00am in 37 degrees every (EVERY) morning and bounces around the camper screeching “I GOTTA GO I GOTTA GO I GOTTA GO” while his mom and dad both play a death match of “I’m asleep more than you are” to avoid having to schlep him down to the nearest public restroom or help him navigate a safe outside spot in the icy morning air.

Blue Bucket and Bath Baby, happy combo right there, I tell ya.

3.25.2018

Good morning, cute li'l Bacon Hut.

Thank you for keeping us warm last night.

And you ain't too hard on the eyes either, gotta say.

03.24.2018

We got a new Bacon Hut and didn't even wait a full twelve hours between bringing her home and taking off on a brand new adventure... Though the tornado in Redding sort of put a damper on the whole operation. No matter! We're back up and running at a rad little winery in NorCal that let us pop our camper nestled snug within their old zin vines.

03.23.2018