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A Wicked Fast School Bus Conversion

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With our boat sold, and a bus procured from the local district in Maine, it was time to head south. But you can’t just travel legally far and wide in a yellow school bus, and painting outside in November’s freezing temperatures is foolish. So, we burned south, as the authorities turned a blind eye, until the butter melted in South Carolina. In a Lowes parking lot, roller in hand, Base Camp received her new sea-mist-green-you-said-you-wanted-to-be-stealth-but-you-FAILED color. After the 100th, “Oh isn’t that a cute bus,” comment, our youngest son said, “We mind as well have painted babies all over it…!”  We named our beauty Base Camp, and we fondly describe her as our mullet bus.  She’s “business” in the front, with three standard school bus seats still in place. And she’s a “party” in the back— not that a triple bunk bed, a double loft bed, and an enclosed bathroom compartment, containing a cassette potty in any way constitute a “party…” There is however a foldout galley on the side wh
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Barefoot on Mount Katahdin

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After enjoying the hike up Mountain Washington, Maine’s own gem of a peak, Mt Katahdin, came into view on our adventure radar.   Heidi called ahead to make reservations for camping in Baxter State Park, home of Maine’s largest peak, and discovered the first major roadblock. It was a familiar issue at this point — BaseCamp was too big… Too heavy for Mexico, too tall for many bridges, and now too wide for Baxter State Park’s 200,000 + acre wilderness.  After discussing options such as borrowing a car, or staying in a hostel with a shuttle bus into the park, we settled on another workaround. An analysis of the map showed that the Appalachian Trail enters the park from the southwest side. The AT’s beginning, or end, depending on the thru-hiker’s direction, just happens to be Mt Katahdin. Provided we could find parking outside the park at the Abol Bridge, we could hop on the AT and access Katahdin!  I called the Abol Bridge Store and got permission to park BaseCamp for a few days. Then we p
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Young and Unshod up Mt Washington

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To say my boys love their “bare footing” would be an understatement… Our youngest, in fact, considers being required to wear shoes to be the ultimate threat. So when we hatched a plan with PopPop (their grandfather), and Great Uncle Dave, to climb Mt Washington, it was no surprise when our 3 boys Kai (14), Cove (11), and Zev (7), replied, “Yes, let’s go barefoot!”  Well this unorthodox style would no doubt bring attention, judgment, and possibly repercussions on this popular mountain, so we came to an agreement with our intrepid hikers.  “Okay boys, you can hike barefoot up Mount Washington on the condition that you strap your shoes to your backpacks for all to see…”  PopPop, Great Uncle Dave, Heidi, and I would be donning footwear because, unlike the boys, our feet were not up to the challenge.  We chose to ascend via the Lion’s Head Trail, and descend via the Boott Spur Trail. Our total distance was just shy of 10 miles over some seriously rugged terrain. But when it was all said and
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4th Time for the True Charm - Mexico

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Well we didn’t actually drive all the way back to Maine to re-register BaseCamp as an RV, like the Mexican border agent demanded — or did we? Well there was the additional detail of Maine summer employment, so we had ourselves a 2 birds/one stone journey north.   Here we were in January 2023 — one year later— back at the Mexican Border town of Piedras Negras, after a 6000 mile detour to clear up paperwork and earn some dollars.  New RV class registration in hand I climbed the steps to the Banjercito office to get our TIP (temporary import permit). I was pleasantly surprised to see no line, but my confidence wavered when I recognized the woman at the counter. It was the same mujer that sent us packing last round. “Never mind last time,” I thought as I handed her my paperwork, “we’re good now.” There was a long uneasy silence as she analyzed the registration. She looked up at me — Did she recognize me, the dejected bus guy? She spoke, “Voy a necesitar ver su vehículo.” Things were beginn
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Mexico Plan B…

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  Third Time’s the Charm!   Sorry Base Camp, you’re gonna need to sit this one out… After drowning our sorrows in guacamole at a Mexican takeout joint on the US/Texas side of the border, we hatched Plan B. Leaving our beloved, overweight-by-Mexican-standards Base Camp in Big Bend National Park, we would ford the Rio Grande, and make our way on foot, or by burro to the small village of Boquillas.
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Location: Big Bend National Park, Big Bend National Park, TX, USA
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Denied Mexico…

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Upon our return to Maine for the summer we were invariably asked by everyone, “What sorts of adventures did you all get up to this time?” We could have focused on Base Camp, our school bus that we bought from the local district, and converted into our magic carpet ride, when our sailboat Tiny Bubbles II sold. We could have focused on the manatees that accompanied us as we swam in springs in Florida, the epic climbs of Hueco Tanks, just outside El Paso, or the glorious time we got to spend with friends and family— we could have focused on that… What stuck in our minds were our failures. We had failed in our search for our next boat, and we had failed to enter Mexico. It’s true, Mexico told us we were, “demasiado pesado,” or too heavy. Too heavy?  “Sí.” We had already been rejected at the previous border town of Ciudad Acuña, but we were told our luck could be better 50 miles south in Piedras Negras.  So Close, Yet So Far — Piedras Negras Border The woman in the border office that clicke
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FROM WHENCE THEY CAME!

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There were a lot of requests for a Cliff Island summer, followed by requests for a Cliff Island fall — complete with apple season, birthdays, Halloween, deer season, and more time with our Cliff Island family. Heidi and I needed this as much as the boys, so it was an easy, “Yes, Yes, YES!”
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