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Van Build
Sabbatical Year
Where I’ve Been
Our heroine reminisces on the places she has called home.
“I don’t know where I’m going, but I know just where I’ve been…” (Battle Born by Five Finger Death Punch)
“You lived in Minnesota? That must have been rough.”
Sure? I guess?
“Went to school in Iowa? Must’ve been boring.”
Actually, it was a hella great time.
“You were in California? Man, I’m sorry about that.”
Well, I’m not.
I hold a special place inside me for all the places I put roots, regardless of how temporary those roots were.
Anoka House
Minnesota, the winter tundra. It brought me a love of fishing, flannel, and forests. I fell in love with backpacking here on the Superior Hiking Trail. The strong German and Scandinavian heritage developed serious cravings for spatzle, Bavarian brews, and potica. When you grow up in Minnesota you learn that when the going gets tough, you buckle down and push on because when the snow keeps coming down, your snowblower has died, and you have to get to a twelve hour shift, you best get to shoveling because staying home doesn’t pay the bills.
Cyclones in their natural habitat
Iowa, the great cornfield. Iowa was all about the camaraderie. You may not know the stranger next to you at the bar, but they are wearing cardinal and gold and hate the Hawkeyes just as much as you so they may as well be kin, because they are. Yes, the small towns hold less things to do, but your favorite bar has your favorite bartender who knows your name, your favorite drink, and asks about your final because they heard it was a rough one. Don’t for one second believe Iowa food is bland, try a state fair pork chop on a stick, it will have you hearing angels singing. Mostly, Iowa encouraged me to dance to my own music. If everyone around you is line dancing to yet another country drab, go ahead, jump on the pool table and head bang to Disturbed in a plaid shirt and spike heels.
RPV patio
California, the one everyone has a strong opinion of. First thing that comes to mind is the flavors. My mouth waters with the thought of street tacos, fresh caught sushi, and west coast IPA’s. The almost-always-perfect weather led to the most outdoor exploration I’ve ever done within a calendar year. The most insane landscapes still leave me breathless. We met jawas in Joshua Tree, vandwellers in Yosemite, life long trail family in Sequoia. California was the people, some of the best, most kind people I have ever met. California taught me to not judge a book by its cover. The dumpy, divey bar has the best Philly cheesesteak you will ever taste. The clients dropping off their beloved pet for surgery are crying despite one wearing Costco and the other Chanel. They both hug you when you bring their pet out for discharge.
First day of vanlife
As the great band (Five Finger Death Punch) says, “I may not know where I’m going, but I know just where I’ve been.”
Short Essays From The Road
Minnesota
Our heroine thinks back on Minnesota for a continuation of a Beer Enthusiast’s Roadmap to America.
Main Campaign: Minnesota
July-December
The land of lakes, loons and lumberjacks. The land has the feel of a kolsch.
Crisp. The crispness of the kolsch on my tongue feels just like the fall weather on my face. I am warm and cozy in my trustworthy flannel.
Refreshing. The taste brings a smile to my face. I think of the loon breaking the surface of the water right next to the boat. Their call is the first noise I hear in the morning from the cabin, alerting me to fish waiting in the lake.
Malty. The malty flavor is the liquid form of the rich, colorful leaves I see as I walk. Soon the leaves will fall as the colder weather of first winter approach, but at the moment the leaves are cheerful and bold.
There is a time and season for a kolsch, just as there is a time and season I enjoy most about Minnesota. Fall when the fish are still biting, the cabin on the lake is inviting, and leaves are at their full splendor. No insects are biting, the freezing cold hasn’t approached and my stein is ready for the festivities of the season.
A Beer Enthusiast's Roadmap To America
Stuck
Eleven month down, and we find ourselves stuck…
Month Eleven: Stuck
2/5/2023
Minnesota - Nebraska - Colorado
I sat down to write this update and realized I had nothing really to share. Or at least it felt that way.
We were stuck in Minnesota longer than anticipated due to Jake sustaining an unknown crazy injury to his ankle/foot. So we waited it out in Minnesota, slowly repacking everything into not only the Yellow Submarine but my little mazda. After about a week, he was able to move around in relative comfort (or rather not in overt discomfort) and off we took in our modern day wagon train.
Our goal: Omaha to visit with my brother, Dan. We made a pitstop in Des Moines for one last visit to Paws & Pints and so Leinie could stretch his legs and release some pent up energy.
Someone had fun playing in the snow
Leaving Des Moines we hit snow, a lot of snow. For anyone not familiar with the midwest/great plains in winter, oh man, it is a feat. The wind combines with snow and the semis all kick up crazy amounts of splash. Visibility at one point was maybe 20 yards. We pulled over at one point to see what our options were, we cleared off the headlights and elected to keep moving.
We rolled up to Dan’s around 10pm and found an icy mound of snow piled at the end of his driveway. He was still out of town on a work trip so Jake and I found shovels and the snowblower and got to work at the horrible task of clearing it. I was feeling very sure of my decision to never live in winter hell ever again.
After Dan arrived the next day, we were able to enjoy a single day of not horrible, terrible weather. And then it got cold. Very, very cold. Negative double digits. So we were stuck, again. The three of us stayed very much inside and Leinie learned very quickly to pee and poop very, very quickly. Jake attempted to leave early in order to spend quality bro time with Adam but ended up turning around after 20 minutes on the highway due to crazy high winds. At the second window of not horrible weather (it was still negative double digits), Jake attempted escape number two and made it to Fort Collins.
I was supposed to follow a day later after some more time with the bro. However, my car refused to start. The severe cold drained the battery. So I spent all morning jumping it with Dan’s car and felt pretty confident after a test run to the gas station. The next day, dead. Again. So I spent another morning jumping my poor car. Any guesses on the third morning? Yep, deader than a doornail. I was prepared and woke up early to jump it with Dan’s car and let it charge while I packed.
And off Leinie and I were, with a hope and a prayer that it would restart when I stopped en route to Fort Collins. When Leinie and I stopped at a rest stop for a bathroom break, I kept the car running. We had to fill up on gas in western Nebraska and I have never filled up so fast in my life. I held my breath and…it started. Collective sigh of relief
I know, I’m a badass.
I made it to Fort Collins without having to stop again. Whew. Spoiler, my car continued to need periodic jumps and ended up getting a brand spanking new battery.
Adam graciously opened his door to our transient family and we moved right on in and made ourselves at home. We had a goal: figure out what the heck we are going to do. We needed to reenter the real world soon. Where, how, and all that had to be figured out.
Guys, you know how well this group deals with indecision. I can safely tell you, we still have no effing idea. I mean, who knew that finding the best job in the best location in an area that is large enough to not be boring but small enough to feel comfortable with access to a good airport would be so difficult to determine.
So, yea. I feel like not much has happened this last month. We’ve been stuck, several times and now we’re stuck in indecision. At least indecision is a familiar bed fellow, so I’m sure we’ll figure it out eventually. I mean, we can’t be vagabonds forever, right?
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Hitting the Reset
Ten months in, a new year and time to hit the reset.
Month Ten: Hitting the Reset
1/5/2023
Minnesota - Iowa - Tennessee - Minnesota
Happy Holidays & Happy New Year y’all!
So what the heck have we been up to? Short answer, a whole lot and a whole lot of nothing at the same time. Feel free to skip ahead the adorable pic of Leinie with Santa if you are fine with that. For those looking for a bit more, please, continue on.
One thing I promised myself when I started logging our adventures for literally anyone on this planet (and other planets I guess, I am nothing if not inclusive) was that I wanted the stories to be authentic. No clout, no sponsored falsehoods, no glossing over difficulties to lure anyone into believing I lived this super cool, awesome, amazing life. While I am not of the share-all generation, proud millennial thank you very much, and have no desire to deep dive a read-all of my or others personal lives, I do care to share enough to not hide when times are tough. Case in point, all the times I admit to ragey tears and struggles while hiking.
Long answer: it’s been a struggle. As some from my generation would say, the struggle has never been more real. Sorry boomers and zoomers. Jokes aside, the struggle has been very, very hard. There is no single cause, more of a cumulation of factors all compounding into a stress storm. Because of the stress and struggles, I have struggled with putting pen to paper, er, keyboard to website.
Vanlife can be amazing, it can also be hard, just as any lifestyle. You get the freedom to get up and leave whenever you choose. You also give up space and when you stay at another’s home, whether parked in a driveway or crashing inside their home for indoor plumbing, you give up a degree of autonomy. Routines are hard to create and maintain with constant movement and resettling. If one person is committed to work in one location and the other wants to travel, do you give up time together or stay put for the duration of the work commitment. What if that work commitment takes you away from your partner regardless.
I am the very first to admit that even be able to have the luxury of choosing vanlife is exactly that, a luxury. This is not, and never will be a complaint. There are a vast number of people out there with struggles I couldn’t comprehend. That isn’t to say that I struggled with the last couple months because I did. I also didn’t handle that stress very well. Autonomy, routines, freedom, and relationships are extremely important to me. When all those felt like they were breaking down, I felt like I was drowning. Jake felt like he was dying of thirst. It’s hard to imagine or comprehend someone dying of thirst when you are drowning and vice versa.
It was a rough couple months, but that isn’t to say everything was dark and horrible.
Leinie is concentrating very, very hard
Leinie tried his absolute best to be a good boy for Santa. Spoiler, Santa brought him a puzzle brain to work his busy little brain.
We wrapped up a struggle of a season with the Liberty Bowl game in Memphis, Tennessee where ISU faced off against Memphis (yes, again). Memphis took their revenge when ISU decided to not play. Don’t worry, the game couldn’t hurt me anymore than the season already had.
Pic is always taken before the game when hopes are high
To make up for a cold, unsatisfying game there was food. If you’ve never been to Memphis, you are sorely missing out. Dry rub ribs, fried chicken, grits, gumbo, and so much sweet tea you could bathe in it. We discovered the “most haunted bar in America” that used to be a brothel.
Earnestine & Hazel’s in Memphis
While discussing new year resolutions at the bar with the person next to us, waiting for the guitar drop mirrored ball raise we discussed the game and disappointment over ISU not showing up to play. He pondered for a bit and then suggested maybe this year instead of resolutions on this or that which always get thrown out by Feb, everyone just makes the effect to show up. Beer brings out the best philosophers.
It made sense though; we were in desperate need of a reset. A hard reset to be exact. The one where you unplug your xbox and plug it back in prior to restarting it. We need to unplug and reset ourselves. So we are. I am unplugging from social media for a bit, we are focusing on the rebuilding routines and finding our new spot to call home.
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Bit by the Bug, Again
Eight months into their sabbatical year and our heroes are feeling stagnant in the midwest. What will they do?
Month Eight: Bit by the Bug, Again
11/5/2023
Minnesota - Iowa - Kentucky - Texas
We had been pretty stagnant in the last month spending all of it in the midwest. This month was all about getting bit by the bug again…
Football season is in full swing. That meant another weekend tailgating to start off month eight. We had the whole gang for this one.
Minnow Farmers at Welch Ave Station watching the game
It took our tetris king to get everyone to fit for sleeping in the lot, but we did it with minimal headaches. Great start to the month.
Jake headed back to Minnesota with Leinie and the Yellow Submarine while I drove south to Louisville, Kentucky. Why, you ask? Only the best work-related time of the entire year: The ACVS Surgery Summit. An annual party learning opportunity where you can reconnect with old friends and learn something new. Jake flew down to meet everyone after getting a few work days in.
This year I decided to torture myself expand my boundaries and volunteered to present on the super sexy topic of live streaming from the OR. Oh yea, IT is so attractive. I didn’t vomit or faint, so I call it a win.
Doing some professional stuff
The surgery summit has the habit of reigniting my excitement for veterinary surgery. Let’s face it, I am a huge nerd and I could talk fracture physics for hours. Show me a novel technique on tacking down the meniscus and I get giddy. Bit again by the surgical bug.
Jake drove the car back to Minnesota and I flew to Austin, Texas. This time it was a veterinary technician conference geared towards my personal soapbox of technician growth and support. I have no excuse other than I must have been drunk when I volunteered for not one, not two but four professional presentations in a two week span. One done, two to go for this conference. This time I was presenting on client compliance and surgery safety checklists. I know, try to contain your enthusiasm.
While in Austin, I took a day off from conference learning to explore the city. Tuesdays are free at the art museum on the university campus so I took full advantage. I’m the first to admit that I am definitely not an art person, so after an hour of looking at contemporary paintings that was more than enough for me. With the LBJ presidential library on the other side of campus, I meandered through enemy territory (hiss Longhorns) and explored LBJ and Lady Bird’s contributions to our great experiment. There was a quote from Lady Bird that may or may not resonate with you.
From the Lady Bird exhibit
And that’s as far into politics as I care to dive.
Anywho, I wandered through the Capitol building and took a free tour. Beautiful buildings, fascinating history, and throw in a protest on education as our tour progressed, it was wild! I was hungry and thirsty so I explored a highly recommended neighborhood undergoing crazy expansion. Hopscotching around construction equipment I stopped at a Bavarian biergarten that brings a whole new level to food fusion. Enter, the jalapeno cheddar wurst. Amazing!
If the state of Texas was indiscreet with the city of Portland (OR), the love child would be Austin. That was the vibe I got from the city. It was artsy, loud, big, and full of fabulous tex-mex styled food. I loved it. Exploring the city and its culture hit me like a brick wall. I missed the roulette trips Jake and I would take where we would get the cheapest plane tickets available regardless of destination. The travel bug bit hard. Jake stated he was feeling it too.
Before I knew it I was flying back to Minnesota for the last presentation, a webinar on open fractures. Wounds and fractures, does it get any better than that? Don’t look at me like that.
Just like that, the month was already past the halfway mark. Halloween was quickly approaching. Anoka, our old home, is the Halloween Capital of the World. It is a big deal here. Naturally, Jake & I are very active Halloween participants. This year’s theme, Dungeons & Dragons (the movie characters)
Edgin Darvis (bard), Fat Dragon & Xenk (paladin)
Anoka hosts a wonderful tent party every year, and this year was just as amazing. The tribute band was on fleek (Jake, did I use that correctly? He says no).
The weather was less than ideal, it is Minnesota after all. Anytime after August, you risk snow. First winter was knocking on the door as the temp plummeted below freezing and it ended up being a white Halloween with snow falling the night before.
So cold, much white
While pretty, it was frigid and it wasn’t even the standard arctic temps. The thoughts of sand, margs, and beaches was front and center in my mind. Jake was in agreement, this cold weather stuff was for the birds and even they fly south for the winter.
Thankfully, Iowa State’s drinking team football team decided they actually wanted to play this year and have pulled off some completely unexpected wins. Told you it was character building being a Cyclone. This month closes out with homecoming tailgating and a rough loss against Kansas. Bowl game season is just around the corner. Fingers crossed that ISU makes one, maybe in Texas or Florida. The warm weather bug is biting.
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Doomed to be Soggy
Seven months in and our heroes are back in civilization. Did they survive? What have they been up to?
Month Seven: Doomed to be Soggy
10/5/2023
Minnesota - Iowa
Miss us?
We survived the Superior Hiking Trail, if a bit saturated. Due to rain and footwear falling to pieces, the bounce through the boundary waters on the Border Route and Kekekabic was scratched. I feel the 310+ miles of the SHT is nothing to sneeze at, but I am rather biased.
27 days and 310+ miles later
After getting picked up from the trail, we stuffed ourselves silly and attempted to get dry. I feel cursed. It has rained more often than not, I can’t escape it. It’s like a weird Shyamalan movie where it follows me until I die. I’m forgetting what the sun even looks like. Think I’m being dramatic?
Minnesota was in the midst of a drought. So much so that people mowed their lawn once or twice all summer. To my SoCal friends, that is a big deal. So here Jake and I come along and decide to spend an entire month outside and it rains, almost constantly. We are doomed to be saturated and soggy until we die. We get off trail and I think the longest stretch of time without rain was two days, maybe three.
Ok, drama over, even though it is currently raining as I type this. I took some recovery time at my parent’s cabin rental before they needed to head back south while Jake returned to the jobsite for work. I spent mornings fishing, or more accurately, feeding the fish. In my defense, it was slow for everyone in the boat. Afternoons were for cards and evenings for bonfires (when it wasn’t raining) or really, really terrible horror movies.
I had a date with the town of Ely. My mom grew up there and I used to visit annually until I moved to SoCal. I prefer to wait until after Labor Day when the swampies tourists have mostly left. Some of my favorite places have closed since I’ve been there last, some have moved and there were new ones I discovered. That’s Ely though, like any other town that survives off the tourism trade and the whims of what’s currently fashionable. RIP Rockwood wild rice soup, you’ll be remembered.
I missed the Yellow Submarine and it was time for some vanlife therapy again. Jake and I spent a day cleaning it and getting it ready for some traveling again. Before I get everyone’s hopes up, Jake and I still have some obligations that require further basing in Minnesota before we take off for reals. Short, punchy trips were well within our reach. First up, ISU tailgating.
Anyone traveling through the great cornfield we call Iowa will notice that almost every single vehicle is sporting either an ISU cyclone or Iowa hawkeye decal/license plate/flag/etc. Yes, every. single. one. Iowa (the state) does not have a professional football team so college ball is everything, it's the culture. You are either a Cyclone or a Hawkeye. In the rare case one marries the other, it’s called a divided household. If you think I’m joking or exaggerating, I’m not.
The moral of the backstory being, tailgating is huge. As a Cyclone, I had four (now three) more home games to catch before the season ends. So I hugged Jake and Leinie goodbye for the weekend and jumped in the Yellow Submarine. I rolled up to one of the RV-compatible lots, talked with the guys who ran it and got my spot next to some trees. This was my first time tailgating Friday night and my mind was blown. It was chill, everyone walking around with drinks, meeting and greeting. While the college kids were at the bars and house parties, the adults (read: middle age fogies like myself) were casually sipping beer, talking with our neighbors and enjoying the ambiance of an Iowegian sunset over Jack Trice stadium.
You know it’s game day when your alarm clock is music blasting from a cardinal and gold decked-out skoolie. Nate and Ryan showed up and parked next to the Sub creating a private area for our grill and chairs. There was intermittent rain throughout the day (told you I’m cursed) and it was looking more threatening as kickoff grew near so we packed up a bit early and headed to our bar (Welch Ave Station - order a Minnow Farmer) to watch the game. And, we actually won! That is a big deal for a Cyclone fan. It’s easy to cheer for a team that always wins, it’s character building to be a Cyclone fan, or liver building.
The last bit of the month was building back our emergency van fund. Jake had a roof at the jobsite to stay dry under. I was booked solid with petsitting and was busy walking dogs, running around yards, and driving to and from different houses. Much of that was in rain. Leinie and I even got caught in a downpour on a walk and arrived back at the house soaking wet, yet again. I find myself daydreaming of being back in the desert of the southwest.
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Please Hold
….Has anyone seen our heroes?….
Month Six: Please Hold
9/5/2023
Minnesota
Epic thru hike in progress, please hold…
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Don’t Panic
At five months into an adventure year, our heroes are in crunch time for trail preparations to their biggest backcountry adventure to date. Grab a paper bag and don’t hyperventilate.
Month Five: Don’t Panic
8/5/2023
Minnesota - Wisconsin - Minnesota
Month five has been hands down the fastest month thus far. We arrived in the Pork Pond, Minnesota, settled into temporary house living and gave ourselves through the weekend to relax prior to the chaos of trail preparations. And when I say chaos, it was full-blown, true-to-form, arm-flapping chaos.
Prepping for a weekend backcountry trip (i.e. Maroon Bells or Trans-Catalina) is a hassle when everything goes smoothly. Prepping for a week-long trip (i.e. High Sierra Trail) is an anxiety-ridden marathon. For our planned epic thru hike (Superior Hiking Trail + Border Route + Kekekabic) we will be in the backcountry for roughly 30 days. I feel on the verge of an aneurysm daily. There is just so much to do. Getting in hiking shape (we plan to average 15 miles daily), getting a trail doggo into shape (he will be with us each step of the trip), get replacement/additional gear ordered and tested, and do not get me started on the food. I’m rather shocked Jake’s mom didn’t kick us out as we rapidly took over their dining room for the base of Operation Menu. (Thanks Deb! We owe you!)
Weekends were saved as breaks from trail prep and attempts to relax. There is an old Minnesota tradition known commonly as “The Cabin”. Yes, everyone in Minnesota refers to their cabin, or their friend’s cabin, or a family member’s cabin, or even a rental as “The Cabin” as if there was a singular cabin all 5.7 million of them to share at once. After living in LA, that number doesn’t seem as large anymore. I’m crying and laughing at the same time. We went to the “The Cabin” four of the five weekends.
Back in the land of lakes, loons and Leinies
One of those weekend trips to “The Cabin” was to celebrate another trip around the sun for myself. If you haven’t guessed, my all time favorite beverage to grace this planet is Leinenkugel’s Honey Weiss. It is the Reeses peanut butter cup of beers. Nothing could possibly improve it, it is perfect as is and will be a great beverage in any situation; cold, hot, sweaty, frigid. I mean, I am such a fan I named my dog after this brewery. So we mecca journeyed to Leinie Lodge. This used to be an annual birthday tradition until the commute from SoCal made it a bit tricky.
Leinie Lodge aka Beer Heaven
Anywho, backstory aside, Leinie Lodge was shockingly busy and the tours (I am undefeated at the trivia for the free prize) are now reservable and the next one wasn’t for four hours. Ok, don’t panic. We decided to skip the tour, despite my unbeatable trivia record reputation and just enjoy some sample pints instead. Honey Weiss was still the most perfect beer to froth a glass and I savored mine with the biggest smile on my face.
The trip was hosted by Jake’s sister at her version of “The Cabin” where we fished and Leinie shocked everyone by dock diving.
Mother Nature decided to send me a gift and I ended up with a whomping poison ivy rash on both feet and ankles. Antihistamines, topicals and beer help soothe the burning while I pointedly did not look at the dwindling days until my feet would be stuck in wool socks and boots for a month straight. Woosha.
While nursing the rash, another old tradition was brought back to life. My girl Angie and I celebrated a belated Half Xmas with “The Cabin”, this time it was my parents’ summer rental in Central Minnesota lakes country. We relaxed, drank, floated, and attempted beer yoga. All in all another successful Half Xmas for the books.
Returning to trail prep, someone turned the thermostat way up so the training hikes were put on hold while food prep took center stage. Dehydrating and freeze drying complete (Thanks Steph!), up next was meal assembly. Ever seen a month’s worth of oatmeal before?
64 of them bad boys
You’re welcome.
As the meals were assembled, the days were grouped together into the various resupply boxes. Attempting to work smarter not harder, I got mailing boxes the same volume as our bear keg. If the resupply has to fit in the bear keg, and the box being the same space, if it fits in the box it will fit in the keg. Until it didn’t. Cue paper bag breathing.
Jake did his trail tetris magic and we were back in the clear. If I don’t end up grey by the start of this trip, it will be a miracle.
Meanwhile amongst all the food preparation our weeks looked something like this: daily 5 mile walks with Leinie, gym for strength training 2-3 days, non-gym days were training hikes with full pack weight and mileage, and throw in some yoga for balance ‘cuz I was blessed with the weak family ankles. Gotta replenish the emergency van fund so Jake helped out at his dad’s job site and I picked up some pet sitting gigs. I also signed up months before embarking in the Yellow Submarine for some speaking engagements in October and presentations don’t make themselves. Don’t forget to meet up with family and friends and enjoy the weekly Pancheros visit to make up for lost time as they don’t exist in SoCal (basically a better Chipotle) and we have to sleep at some point right? Told ya we were busy.
Started with 6.5 miles and were doing 15+ miles by trail time
As the trail prep winds to a close, presentations created, some money earned, Pancheros eaten, the panic has started to abate. I feel very tired and may celebrate with a good, hard nap followed by a cold beer.
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Slow It Down
Four months into their epic vagabond adventure and our band of heroes decide to slow it down.
Month Four: Slow It Down
7/5/2023
Colorado - Nebraska - South Dakota - Iowa - Minnesota
After the action-packed first three months, we sloowwwed way down for month four and spent the vast majority of it in Colorado. We left you while we were racing the clock for planned visits with friends…
We started this month nerding out over dinosaurs.
Plate-rod combo was my initial thought on repair…
What a most excellent way to return to a state we love dearly, Colorado. The last few states were hit-or-miss on how dog friendly each town and business was so it was a breath of fresh air when we arrived in Grand Junction and pulled up to a brewery that allows dogs everywhere. *Collective sigh*
We had some van appointments in Grand Junction so we spent three days exploring the town and the neighboring town of Fruta. It was friendly, lived-in, and relaxing…except for one night where we stayed in the least ideal camping spot of the trip yet. Let’s just say we had some entrepreneurs for neighbors.
Leaving Grand Junction we accidently stumbled upon a national park. Yes, we had no idea this existed here nor had we heard of this park before. Black Canyon of the Gunnison. Say that five times fast. It was compact, super pretty and we enjoyed an epic camping spot to boot. Ten outta ten recommend.
Jake doing his thing with a camera
While I love me beer, Jake loves him some mountain biking. So we mecca-journeyed to Crested Butte where it is rumored mountain biking was invented. We settled into our camping spot, made base camp and I attempted to not turn blue at 9,000 ft. It was Jake’s turn for an injury and got “biker’s knee” (patellofemoral pain syndrome for ye fellow surgical nerds). As such, he was taking it easy on the biking and joined Leinie and me for some hiking and town exploring.
Hiking in Crested Butte
My thoughts on Crested Butte? Umm, it rhymes with rusted nuthole while using the C and B. The town was expensive and rather…pretentious. And do not get me started on the trail dog atmosphere.
Ok, I’ll start. I love trail doggos, obv, I’m a vet tech. However, want to know the number one reason I see broken trail doggos? They’re off leash. Yep, I’m that person. If Jake would let me I would hand out freebie slip leads that state “my owner is a jerk and doesn’t know what a leash is”. On this trip I have encountered sooooo many off leash dogs that have zero recall, almost nill manners, and are usually followed by the phrase, “oh, they’re friendly.” Not the damn point. Leinie is a good boy, most of the time. He is also small and is so over being bowled over by larger dogs. As such, when he feels cornered (such as on a leash while another dog, two or three surround him) he becomes reactive. Instead of an apology from the jerk owner with the poorly trained dog, I am somehow the jerk for having a reactive dog. Not unrelated, if your dog jumps on me or pushes their nose in my crouch (usually off leash) I will push them down. No, I will not say “oh, it’s ok” when you give a half-assed apology. Train your damn dog. This shitty thought mentality was ten times worse in Crested Butte than anywhere I had yet experienced. We typically keep Leinie’s dishes outside behind the front passenger wheel and have him on a lead while at camp. We literally ran out of food because off leash trail dogs would come off trail, into our camp, and eat his food. Leinie ain’t dumb and would usually hunker down in the van rather than fend off intruders who were usually a lot bigger than him. The third time it happened, three off leash dogs from a hiking party were running amok in the campsite. I told the group that they needed to leash their dogs. Their response, “We aren’t in town. If you don’t like it, you’re in the wrong place.” Come again?! You know what also happens when your dog is off leash? It shits somewhere, you don’t see (possibly don’t care) and don’t pick it up. The trails were literally covered in dog shit. It was disgusting. Ok, I’m done.
Side note, our campsite was littered with bones. It had weird vibes akin to the movie The Ritual. Venture to Crusted Butthole at your own risk. They did have pretty terrific coffee though.
Not quite my personal choice for a Xmas decoration
Moving on, we moved towards the front range and made a pit stop in Salida where we had the absolute craziest amount of hail I have ever seen in a single storm. Not all days are glamorous, some mornings you spend three hours waiting to be able to do anything.
That ain’t snow
We arrived in Colorado Springs itching to explore the front range. We hit up Garden of the Gods and one of the coolest places to enjoy a beer.
Garden of the Gods
You can actually drink in a school!
We moosied our way along the front range heading north. Jake will always fangirl over Golden and I fell hard for Loveland. But the long rest for showers, a real-ish bed, and regaining hit points was in Fort Collins. Land of breweries, trails, patagonia sweaters and Adam.
We settled right on in with Adam for a little over a week that was rather action-packed. Brewery hopping, flooded biking trails, competitive games of Cataan, and fungi documentaries to name a few.
The tramily doing what we do best…besides hiking
We also packed Adam and Leinie back into the sub for a weekend excursion in Steamboat Springs. Adam became the official first guest of the Yellow Submarine root-tent-airbnb. His reviews were raving. Steamboat was idyllic. We hit town in time for the farmer’s market, enjoyed the core trail and explored their free botanical gardens. Jake and I actually ran into Steamboat Jeff who manages a part (maybe the whole thing) and invited us to his porch to show us moose and bear videos he had.
We ended the evening with a soak in some questionably dark hot springs that lacked showers and had a manager on a power trip. Apparently they offer clothing optional soaking after 10, we didn’t stay…
Then Adam got to experience a vagabond tradition, searching for a site on the weekend. We drove until after midnight before we ended at a site and were able to crawl into bed. The site ended up having terrific morning views and a butt load of mosquitoes.
Before we knew it, we were hugging Adam goodbye and were on our way to do some residency stuff in South Dakota. Along the way we passed through western Nebraska and stopped to enjoy Scotts Bluff and Chimney Rock. Why do those names sound familiar? Here’s a clue, they happen to coincide with dysentery and caulking a wagon to float.
The OG vanlife
Up next was a strange place called Carhenge. I get there isn’t a whole lot to do in Nebraska, but this had to have sprouted from next level boredom mixed with a healthy dose of hold-my-beer.
The vannus intermedius, the missing link between the covered wagon and modern vanlife vehicle
We continued our sight seeing as we entered South Dakota, hitting Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills, before reaching Deadwood.
Home, sweet home. Sorta. We technically are residents of Spearfish, but Lawrence County’s offices are in Deadwood. We rolled into town which was noticeably more crowded than when we came in winter and as it apparently happens in South Dakota, we got caught in stopped traffic due to a reenactment shootout. Once the gunpowder cleared we stopped in our now favorite casino Mr. Wu’s for cheapo tap beer.
The next morning I got fresh license plates for my car. After a quick pit stop at the post office (postcards!) I attempted to get a library card, and was denied! What in the actual hell?! This is clearly the root cause for the destabilization of society.
While I was brooding over the library card, Jake drove us to the Badlands where the mosquitoes took on a new level of demon possession. It was like my legs had chicken pox. We had a pretty epic camping spot and got hit by a crazy wind/thunderstorm that had us only slightly nervous.
Badlands National Park
We explored Badlands National Park the next day and the Minuteman Missile Site. Then it was a loooong day of driving. Originally we had hoped to make it to Des Moines in one shot but that was quickly thrown out the window when we rolled into Souix Falls at 7pm for a stretch. A walk to stretch the legs, a beer to stretch our livers, and we were back on our way to get some miles in before we called it a night.
We made it to Iowa and our friends, Nate and Ryan the next day to kick off our Des Moines short rest (1d10 hit die). We ate, we drank, we hit up a car show where we ate and drank some more. There were breweries and the guys’ first shot at D&D. Yes, the sickness spreads.
Naturally Ryan takes the picture when my eyes are closed.
The month was winding up and Jake had some work lined up in Minnesota, so we hugged Nate and Ryan goodbye just as people were getting heavy handed with fireworks. We weren’t a mile into Minnesota when we counted three, yes three, Lindahl billboards. Non-Minnesota friends, if you have no clue what I am talking about, count your blessings.
We made good time and arrived at Jake’s parents which would serve as our base of operations for trail preparations. We settled in, deep cleaned the van and out came the laptops for some serious crunch time trail organization.
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For as much as we love the outdoors, we also love a good lazy Sunday.