After cruising the Bahamas, and land travels out west, the crew of Tiny Bubbles II sails down Florida’s ICW, across the Okeechobee, through the Everglades, out to the Dry Tortugas, and up the Keys.
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 th...
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 we...
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 ...
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