Road Trip: The Middle

Kansas stretches her torso, flat and wide. Few trucks, experimental adventure. Nighttime falls far from our campsite. Late arrival, no obvious sites, drunk couple not as helpful as hoped. So sleep finds our small orange and green tent in a field near a lake, apprehensive of a ranger’s bright flashlight, the slow sounds of approaching footsteps.

More cornfields, always more. Sunflowers occasionally break the monotony, and St. Louis is amazing after so much vastness. An empty downtown, no place to eat, but a beautiful long city park filled with fountains to run through. Lunch by a koi pond on fancy college campus; later, too hot cooking of gourmet food for our couchsurfing hosts. Large glasses, intellectual disinterest, fluid gender, perfect for Portland. A deserted city looks back on busy golden days, retaining archaic brothel laws now affecting only sorority girls.Kentucky unfolds ahead. Intermittent rain and the usual stops. By now, I have learnt the contents of each and every gas station mini-mart. Favorite road snacks: pretzel sticks and white cheddar popcorn. We listen to Sabriel on tape...the bell-ringing abhorsen needs to be taken in small doses.
A winding hilly road past endless Kentucky estates. Large elegant houses and impossibly manicured lawns roll smoothly into the distance. Shining thoroughbred horses graze lazily in broad paddocks as we imagine the fine bourbon that is sipped within immense rooms, under moose antlers. Unfortunately, the roads are named by numbers (not their googlemap names) and soon we are lost in the green hills without phone service. A lucky mirror spotting puts us back on track and eventually we arrive at Carter caves campsite.

Our fire roars as it consumes found wood, and two Kentuckian lesbians embarrassedly ask for help building theirs. Their accents are charming and I wonder about their lives. A night walk reveals firefly jewels and friendly horses. We feed them grass and rub their rough coats until our hands are black with dust. Rain pours before dawn, and I awake in a partial puddle.

Mediocre breakfast in the freezing air-conditioned lodge is plentifully supplied by a constantly apologetic waitress. Hummingbirds swoop and dive, competing fiercely for space at the sugar water feeders beyond the wide window.

Road Trip: The West

Lunch and burnt soles of my feet in Bakersfield. First swamp cooler experience, and giant backyard with POTENTIAL. Wide endless Mojave, colorful hills of shale: ancient sea floor at sharp angles. Flagstaff expensive sushi, rich white people trace and retrace their steps as they shop. We chase a summer rainstorm across vast green sage brush and red rock expanse.Albuquerque sprawls before us, low lying lights in a high, flat valley. Adobe curves and one story houses try to stay cool in the dry heat punctuated by monsoon afternoon rains. Fluffy yogurt pancakes, sun, beer, burritos drowning in New Mexico chile. Muddy quicksand riverbed after dusk, as the moon reflects on slow-moving water. High altitude breath-catching Sandias, a stone house perched on the cliff above the outstretched city. Crawling cockroaches and cool clay. Last long Sarahcoze.Directly NORTH, we see evidence of heavy winter snows along the windswept freeway. Colorado Springs picnic lunch. My dress is too short, causing sidelong looks. Pushy squirrels vie for unattainable treats. Frustration and warm salsa.

Boulder: the ultimate in city planning, reflecting conflicting decisions. Surrounding wide greenbelt is lush and eliminates the threat of continuous suburbs, but leads to expensive food and impossible housing. Strange laws discourage cooperation while trying to avoid filth and crowding. Gorgeous bike paths, health food, tall mountain irons loom. Homemade veggie quiche, candlelit outdoor dinner, the brook babbles by. Warm friends, photos, hand-cranked smoothies mix work and enjoyment.

In Denver, we drink beer on the patio and talk of megafauna, oxygen limitation, and ages past. Rowdy dog steals cupcakes off the stove, shatters expensive wedding present. Five double-cousins appear one-by-one; all tall, competitive, confident in their family bond. Leaf armor, card games, city streets at night and Beta techno beats—one small Leo in a forest of 6 large man-clones.
Whirlwind Museum of Natural History tour: big back bone room, spinning earth, evolution and representation. Entelodont—giant Miocene predator: intelligent ruthless buffalo-sized hell pig.

Roadtrip Bugs

I woke up in my tent, early one sunny Kansas morning, with this strange shadow above me. I went outside to investigate, and found the large creature below...

In Kentucky, after a heavy summer rain, I saw this big Luna moth drying its wings.

This orange caterpillar sat atop a hand water pump in the Appalachian mountains of West Virginia.

It's happening.

i'm on my way...
leaving the lovely east bay, headed out into the vastness of america. moving to boston, starting grad school at harvard!

the long road trip has begun, dan and i weaving in and out of giant trucks, small cities, sage brush and mountains.

Today's small realization

When I walk I make a beeline for my destination. Ignoring sidewalks, paths, steps, I take the grassy hill shortcut.

I don’t notice this until I walk with other people and one of three situations occur: 1. they take the shortcuts with me and everything feels fine, 2. I (almost) bump into them, so they go my way and things are awkward, or 3. they really stick to the path, so I follow, but I can’t help feeling the pull of the diagonal.

Crafty Creatures

My recent obsession with making and sewing felt animals has yielded quite a few scarves.

And I've fallen in love with this origami fox that I made. He just has such a jaunty personality....

The Path to Kuna Yala

It is completely dark when we wake up. No traces of the frantic packing of the day before. I silently say goodbye to my lovely apartment. We meet Rigoberto, our driver, opposite the "God loves tourists" Gamboa church at 4:30am. He drives an old Land Cruiser with bench seats along the walls in the back.

In Panama City the first pink clouds of dawn bloom in the sky as he picks up a haggling, unhappy Israeli couple outside of Super 99. At the next stop we add heavy boxes and a Kuna man, woman, and young boy to our cargo. Then large containers of water and fuel. We stop again for gas and coffee, a couple more people, at a passport checkpoint, and finally for a last pee before turning off the Darien road and heading into Kuna country.

Rigoberto decides to add a woman and her 5 children to our load, much to the dismay of the Israeli girl. Probably used to more comfortable conditions. Now we are 16 in one car. Roxanna and her silent, tiny little brother sit up front with me. They walk 3 hours of mountainous terrain twice a day if no one stops to pick them up.


The views become breathtaking as we ride through the red-pink flesh gashes in the earth deeper into primary rainforest jungle. The road is bumpy and unpaved, and our driver speeds down sheer cliffs and takes the gravelly hairpin turns without flinching. The alleged 2.5 hour ride stretches into 5 hours, but we are thrilled and uncomplaining.

Fancy cameras film a misplaced woman in a small shirt on the edge of a vast panorama of endless rainforest tinged with purple mist. They come over to our car and soon I am being interviewed out the window for Panamanian TV. Channel 2. She asks if I am scared about doing the trek in this car, while another man argues with our driver about how dangerous it is.

We continue on, and now it is even steeper. The Land Cruiser struggles, heavily laden with passengers, luggage, full containers roped to the top. The many children are no longer aboard, instead we have gained a man who clings to the outside of the car as we swerve and jump. Rigoberto calls him "spiderman". The vehicle inches up vertical muddy inclines in the lowest 4-wheel drive gear available, and then speeds down hills to gain momentum for the next impossible climb.

We are approaching a river and I look for a bridge, but instead we plunge straight in. The water comes high enough to pour in my window, but we make it through and soon are at the ocean. A small shack demands entrance and exit fees to and from Kuna Yala.

Our boat is a rickety blue wood canoe with a removable motor. A teenage Kuna boy with a sweet smile is our captain. Salty spray covers my face and glasses as we skip over the water's surface towards white islands. Endless turquiose water surrounds me and I am breathless. A dolphin leaps along next to the boat, joyful and curious.

Chichime (or Wichitub) is the last island, farthest into the Caribbean Sea. Our host, Humberto, welcomes us and the colors are unbelievable. We sleep on hammocks in a palm frond hut, learn phrases of Kuna from our lovely 10-year-old teacher, Lydiana, and snorkel all day. No fresh water, other than what we brought with us, and no bathrooms. A remote paradise.