We started the week off strong with a socially-distanced Jam Session hosted by our neighbors, Dave and Liann [a retired couple that has been backpacking the world for the past 10 years]! They bought a boat in Washington and sailed it down to La Paz. Fast forward 8 months, and they’re still here. Apparently there’s a term for when a boater gets trapped in BCS, and it’s “La Paz’d”.
Sometime during the Jam Session, our teacup was stolen. This was a cause of contention in our household for the entire week, [it was my roommate’s prized possession], until one day I walked outside and found it neatly placed on the cement in the common area outside of our apartment. Spooky…
We’ve been consuming way too much water in our house (an expensive commodity). As you probably already know, you can’t drink tap water in La Paz, so whenever we’re thirsty we have to haul gallon jugs back home from the local Oxxo. On my endeavor to bring water back to the house, I dropped the jug in the middle of the street. I bent over, picked it back up, brought it inside, and THEN it decided to explode all over our floor. :). Here’s a “before” picture:
We saw a really amazing proposal and bachelorette party in La Paz. Something tasteful and well thought out. I’m still not very decided on how I feel about the concept of marriage, but this is how I would want to be asked:
Graduate school is a ton of work, no surprises there. I’m online all day, whether it be in Zoom University or doing homework. I was really conflicted on if I should take a remote internship for the summer, or cycle across the USA. I may come to regret this later, but I’ve decided that Mid-May I’ll be heading out from Oregon to D.C. (More to come on that.) I’ve also started my Portuguese courses through ROLA, and I’m having a blast.
It’s Saturday and we’re in Cabo (sponsored by the song “Sobbing in Cabo” by blackbear)! We decided to make dropping our friends off at the airport a weekend trip. Cabo is a more tropical flavor than La Paz, but no less beautiful. Mornings (and evenings) on our balcony are well spent.
In January of 2019, I began my position with the US Peace Corps as a development partner. For my two-year assignment, I was sent to serve in the Ecuadorian Amazon to lead sustainable development projects in education and tourism.
Due to lack of reliable transportation, I spent a lot of time cycling to different work events and exploring communities and touristic attractions in the Amazon Basin. While cycling in Ecuador I was constantly presented with obstacles such as, but not limited to: getting bitten by street dogs, dodging unpredictable traffic, and fixing broken bicycle parts. Despite the challenges, I fell in love with the sport and was able to build camaraderie with my neighbors during group rides around the Amazon.
This past spring, I was evacuated from Ecuador and furloughed due to COVID19. I had difficulty processing the abrupt evacuation and felt guilty for abandoning people that had grown to be my biggest support system and my best friends. During the time of the evacuation, I was also faced with the untimely deaths of my father and partner. The events of spring 2020 left me with a sense of urgency to accomplish personal goals, as I had seen how easily a life can be overturned or taken by unforeseen events. The anxiety that came from COVID19 and the passing of my loved ones had implored me to do what I had not yet had the courage to: a solo cycle tour.
With a lot of passion (and extraordinarily little experience in cycle touring), I decided to set out on a journey from Seattle to Central California on a bike that I had bought secondhand from Craigslist. I strapped a tent and sleeping bag to my bike’s pannier rack and hoped that two bungee cords were strong enough to hold my belongings together for 1200 miles. I did not know what to expect, nor was I sure if I was prepared. I swallowed my fear and cycled out of bustling Seattle to the quiet islands on its outskirts, passing port towns and tourist destinations until I reached rural western Washington. I had never felt more empowered; everything I needed to survive was on my back and every mile was a huge accomplishment. I was motivated by artifacts that other cyclists had left behind on the trail: written words of encouragement on traffic signs, stickers in roadside bathrooms, and books.
In southern Washington, I found myself cycling through a wounded forest that had battled years of timber harvesting. I felt tension in depressed logging communities that were fighting against a dying industry and private land acquisitions or “land grabs”. From the perspective of someone who works in timber, environmentalists have tried to undercut the industry by competing for land rights and advocating for policy change. However, it seemed like most of the land was acquiesced by private companies, not environmental agencies, for development.
On First Nations’ reserves, empty forests and dry rivers showcased the negative impacts of poorly regulated commercial logging. The dilapidated buildings and needles discarded on the roadside reflected the lack of opportunity in the area.
While meandering down the Oregon coast, a couple of locals took me out to breakfast and explained how vacation home development was outpacing the community’s effort to fight against the gentrification that displaced many community members, driving them to move further inland or into destitution.
A homeless woman, with her knives displayed proudly on her belt, rode her bike with me from the border of Oregon to California to make sure I was safe, because “it’s rough out there for us girls”.
After being trapped in a food desert in rural northern California while sustaining an injury, I experienced how the lack of access to public transportation lends a hand in creating forced communities that are bonded by poverty instead of by common interests.
In Humboldt County, I became weary of the “missing person” fliers and received many warnings to stop cycling alone. I was made aware of the concept of truck driver trafficking, a practice where individuals are picked up hitchhiking or just kidnapped on the side of the road due to lack of reliable public transportation.
Humboldt County made me realize how interlinked environmental crimes are with human trafficking on marijuana farms. Many come to work on these farms, are forced into labor, and do not return home. According to the fliers that I saw, a lot of the missing are young women who were last seen near farms with little to no environmental or legal regulation.
This cycle tour provided me with the opportunity to develop a more well-rounded perspective of environmental and social risks in rural communities throughout the Pacific Northwest (PNW). Even as an environmentalist, I found myself empathizing with loggers and recognizing how diverse social issues in the rural PNW are.
I am now a better environmental ambassador because I am aware of the environmental justice issues that communities in this region face such as: lack of access to public transport, inadequate healthcare, gentrification, food deserts, changing microclimates and their effect on air and water quality, unsafe infrastructure, and vulnerability among the homeless population.
In the PNW, there is a clear relationship between community identity and the forest. Communities that self-identify as “logging towns” take pride in their work to the point where a decline in the timber industry does not only result in a career change, but also a total loss of community identity.
When economic decline occurs faster than a community’s ability to adapt, community members are left in poverty and forced into profitable criminal activities like illegal timber harvesting, wildlife trafficking, human trafficking, and narcotics.
These experiences inspired me to redesign my career path in sustainable development. With a strong interest in the intersection of organized crime and environmental regulation, I hope to focus on environmental policy and environmental and social governance (ESG) risks in supply chain. My career goal is to lead community reinvesting programs to support rural zones in need of economic development and community resilience.
Other than giving me the confidence that I need to move forward in my career, this trip helped me build a deeper connection with our natural world and gave me a more comprehensive understanding of rural community culture in the PNW.
Panniers (I should’ve invested in better panniers)
Cardboard Bike Box ($15 from FedEx)
Bike Lights (Red) (a must have, but don’t buy rechargeable lights)
2 person backcountry camping tent (I should’ve invested in a 1 person tent)
Sleeping Bag & Sleeping Pad (I should’ve also brought a pillow)
I’ll also drop my packing list:
3 pairs of underwear
2 athletic shirts
2 pairs of socks
1 rain jacket & 1 rain pants
2 pairs of bike shorts
1 pair of jean shorts
2 sports bras
1 pair of pj’s
1 cotton t-shirt
toiletries & first aid kit
***UPDATE: I’ve since finished the trip, and would recommend that you also pack-
Sleeping Bag Liner
Only pack one jacket and one pair of pants (I had to send cold weather clothes home)
Extra bike shorts
A rain cover for your bike
I found that what I brought was sufficient, although I would trade out the bike lock for chain oil. If I go on a longer trip in the future I’ll probably invest in a proper touring bike, but it wasn’t necessary for this experience.
We started off the week strong with a Sunday in Todos Santos BCS, a small surfing town an hour outside of La Paz. Our GPS misdirected us down a dirt road, but the Prius took the potholes like a champ. Luckily, at the end of the road we found a secret beach (COVID friendly!). The huge waves on the Pacific Coast took me by surprise (I’d grown too accustomed to the La Paz Bay), and I was attacked by a low-flying swarm of seagulls.
Afterwards, we went into town and found a huge bazar with vendors selling used clothes. The bazar was a nice accompaniment to the community art galleries that line the streets of Todos Santos. I bought a beach blanket from a local vendor. All in all, the day was a success.
The rest of the week was a blur; I fixed my bike’s tire, watched a few sunsets on the beach, and struggled to finish my schoolwork. We visited a few cervercerías in La Paz, nothing to write home about. The only exception to the mundanity was our trip to my new favorite place in Baja California Sur- La Ventana!
La Ventana is a windy town on the Gulf of California that’s mostly populated by foreign kiteboarders and kitesurfers. It’s not the best place for a beach day, but there’s an amazing restaurant called Baja Bite (try the shrimp tacos) and hot springs that are right on the shoreline. The drive from La Paz to Ventana is also incredible, and decorated with cacti of all shapes and sizes. We built ourselves a hottub and enjoyed the view of the mountains over the Sea of Cortes.
On our way back to La Paz, we swerved for a cow family that wandered onto the highway near sunset. You have to watch out for them; they hangout on the pavement when the sun sets (kind of like how deer come out at dusk).
I’m an early bird and a night owl, so I’m wise and have worms.
We decided to stay in an Airbnb during our first week in La Paz with a few of our friends in the area that we hadn’t seen for awhile. With more interest in a long term rental, we wanted to be able to check out the area before deciding on somewhere more permanent. We found a nice place in la zona central of La Paz, and took a few days to relax and catch up.
I quickly turned to Facebook Marketplace La Paz for leads on affordable housing in the area. There were quite a few dead ends, we ended up finding a furnished two bedroom apartment near the beach and boardwalk. (Yay!) We headed to the local Telemex to have someone come out and install internet in our new place. Pro-tip, always get to Telemex before it opens to get a good spot in the never-ending line. After waiting in line the entire morning, they turned us away because we brought passport copies instead of our actual passports. It was frustrating and we went through a few mood swings but, hey, that’s living in a new country for ya’.
To add insult to injury, we were pulled over by the police on the way home. Initially, they threatened to give us a pretty big fine for a fake traffic infraction, but then they suggested we come to a compromise. We left that interaction with $10 less than we started with. (Always hide your cash; I luckily didn’t have any big bills to show the police in my wallet.)
Long story short, we ended up getting internet and settled into our new house. Our neighbors have weekly karaoke sessions, and there’s a pool in our backyard. Life is good. We live right next to a really beautiful bike path that snakes around the Bay of La Paz. Thanks to (yet again) Facebook Marketplace, we were able to find decent mountain and road bikes.
We also discovered that we have a climbing gym right next to our house, so we’ve been trying to go as often as possible. It’s hard with the virus, but they keep everything clean and limit participants. (My hands are pretty callused.)
I joined a sea kayaking club! The club hits the water a few times a week, and everyone is so welcoming. On our first trip, we went around the Bay of La Paz and through the neighboring mangrove forest- it was breathtaking. (Thankfully, it’s way more relaxed than my whitewater kayaking experience.)
Other than that, we’ve just been working remotely. I caved in and got a pair of noise cancelling headphones. (They’re necessary when you’re working in a room with 3 other people.). My master’s courses have been good, although Zoom University is somehow even less enjoyable than it sounds.
During the next couple of weeks, I’ll be working on another dive certificate and kayaking. Aside from the hiccups, La Paz has been a phenomenal move for us so far.
When we found out our work went fully remote this past November, we made the decision to move to La Paz, BCS Mexico. We had read a lot about the digital nomad lifestyle and were eager to try it out!
Due to COVID, we decided to drive instead of fly. We started in Detroit and drove our Toyota Prius non-stop until we arrived in Houston. Upon arrival in Houston, we found a local Airbnb to rest in for a night.
After a night of well deserved rest, we were eager to get back on the road. Little did we know, Toyota Priuses are good for one thing, and one thing only: their catalytic converters. Someone had stolen ours while we were sleeping, and they didn’t even have the decency to leave us a note…
We quickly realized that there are absolutely, without a doubt, no mechanics that work on Sunday in Texas. Even though the car rattled and rumbled, we pushed onward towards Austin. We crossed our fingers and hoped that we wouldn’t get stopped by the police, but little did we know, that should’ve been the least of our worries.
The Austin area issued a winter storm warning even though the snow had only powdered the roads. Being Michiganders, we mocked the Texans as we flew down the highway. One thing we didn’t take into account is that Texas isn’t prepared for snowstorms; they don’t salt or clear the roads. We were reminded of this when we whipped a donut on the highway after our brakes failed. Luckily, we swerved out onto the side of the road and managed to save the car from flipping. It was really a miracle; we were 2 feet away from causing a 3 car pile up.
We were pretty shaken up after that, so we got some rest and found somewhere to fix our catalytic converter. To avoid having it stolen again, we just replaced it with a pipe.
The drive was boring from West Texas to Tucson, but boring is just what we needed. We celebrated our fourth day of driving by getting In ‘n Out in Tucson.
On day 5, we woke up early and booked it to the border crossing at Mexicali. We were nervous because we technically didn’t have a written “permiso”- the permission you need to cross the land border during the COVID era.
They stopped us at the border, pulled us over, and took a quick look at our car. Because we didn’t have a “permiso” we had to get out of the car and go inside the patrol station. They made us pay $33 per person to obtain a permiso and a tourist visa. They asked us our business (where we came from, where we were going, etc.) and then let us on our way.
We drove through the beautiful Baja Peninsula on the Highway 5. If you didn’t already know, the Highway 5 is pretty remote and passes through the desert. Although it was a beautiful drive, we were stressed out about the lack of “gasolineras”along the way (it was almost a close call).
Something we didn’t expect was to be stopped at military checkpoints. We were initially pretty nervous about being robbed (we brought all of our electronics, camping gear, etc.), but the men who searched our car were very professional and waved us on after we let them check the back.
There are pretty much no towns in between Mexicali and Guerrero Negro, so we only stopped whenever we passed a gas station, of which there are few. Actually, we also stopped at a few pull-outs to admire where the desert meets the ocean.
We decided to spend the night in Guerrero Negro, because you can’t drive during the night. Apparently, the cattle wander onto the roads at night and cause accidents. We didn’t want to take the risk. There are many lodging options in Guerrero Negro, but we stayed at Hotel TerraSal at $30 USD per night.
The following day was day 6 of our road trip, and we continued heading south on the Baja’s Highway 1. This part of the trip was possibly the most beautiful driving route I’ve ever taken. The highway curves through the desert and gives you spectacular ocean views. If you want, you can even camp on one of the breathtaking beaches. We ran into a lot of RV tourists from the States and, just so you know, the highway is paved and well-maintained.
Once again, there weren’t towns, only small villages. Gas was available, but there were definitely 100 mile stretches without any gas stations in sight. We passed many more military checkpoints. They checked all parts of the car, and even made us get out to check the seats. It is a bit uncomfortable to have your car checked but, overall, it went smoothly.
After 6 days of driving, we made it to our rental home in La Paz, BCS.
There is definitely a learning curve when driving in Mexico. Here are some helpful tips.
When someone wants you to pass them, they will put their left turn signal on.
When someone wants to turn left, they will stick their arm out of the window and wave to let you know.
The “topes” AKA speed bumps come with no warning as soon as you enter a small town, so please slow down unless you want your head to hit the ceiling of your car (I do not recommend).
Go with the flow of traffic, no matter what
If it looks like a 4 way stop, it is (even if there’s not a visible stop sign)
In college, we were mandated to take two semesters of a language. I wasn’t too crazy about the idea until I realized that I could study abroad to meet the requirement. I’d always wanted to leave the USA, and I saw it as the perfect opportunity. At the time, I was 20 going on 21.
I decided to go to Costa Rica to study tourism and environmental science. I never had a desire to go to Costa Rica, but it was the only option I was given, and anything was better than getting stuck in another Midwest winter.
Upon arrival, we immediately started Spanish courses in small groups while living with Costa Rican families. I didn’t speak any Spanish at all, and various misunderstandings ensued throughout the semester. I absolutely hated making mistakes, but with every hiccup and embarrassing mistake, I became more fluent.
I quickly realized how much more of the local culture I had access to by understanding the local language. My social circle expanded, and I went to different readings, concerts, and clubs that I would’ve never discovered.
Once I gained confidence in my speaking abilities, I decided to backpack through Central America. Instead of staying in hotels and hostels, I was able to venture off the beaten path. I stayed with host families on banana and sugarcane plantations and worked as a waitress in bars through Workaway, all while improving my second language. Without having learned Spanish, I would’ve been totally confined to the “Gringo Trail”.
Fast forward to now. I’m fluent in Spanish and have traveled throughout Central and South America. Through investing in language learning, I was able to have a budget friendly travel experience. Being bilingual has afforded me the opportunity to learn the ins and outs of an area: where to shop and sleep on a budget, how to hitchhike and use public transit, and where to work for extra cash. I’ve formed relationships with strangers who have since become some of my closest friends, and I’ve been able to navigate hitchhiking in Colombia and Mexico. Having a second language has enhanced my travel experience. I feel more at ease socializing and am now confident enough to open a bank account, rent a house, and pay bills while living abroad.
If you are interested in having an experience like mine but don’t know where to start, visit my travel planning services page and shoot me a message. I can help you get started on planning your next backpacking trip with a free consultation.
I ended up heading south to Pacifica to stay with a friend for a few days. My knee bothered me immensely, so much that I could barely move and went to buy a brace. I learned that the knee injury was probably due to not having low enough gears, like the ones you find on a proper touring bike.
I used these days to reflect on the trip and the kindness of the people that I met. The seasoned cyclists with their touring stories, finding stickers that other cyclists had left places to motivate us, people stopping to congratulate me on my journey, people offering us places to stay or advice, people buying us food, and people offering to help in precarious situations.
I’m so proud of this experience. I’ve traveled the world, lived in the Amazon, and been on trips throughout the USA, but this trip by far takes the cake. I truly cannot wait to continue cycle touring. A few trips on my bucket list are: Lisbon to Istanbul, The Transamerica Trail, and The Great Divide. What a joy it is to live life to its fullest.
In the morning, we slept in and made breakfast together. The woman who took us in was a caretaker for an elderly man named Bud, and he told us stories from his younger days all morning. The woman was also extremely generous, having gone from a very successful business life to retiring and caring for Bud and working at a rescue shelter for dogs. She once tried to pilot a program where homeless people could adopt dogs to give them companionship, but unfortunately it didn’t work out and she was stuck with 3 dogs. She loves them though, they are definitely her children.
She took us to a local farmers market and she bought us lassi, a delicious yogurt drink, and pastries. She also bought us picnic fixings and packed our lunch. She was eager to show us around, but you couldn’t see any of the viewpoints because of the smoke. We said goodbye and cycled into San Francisco, where we cycled over the Golden Gate Bridge.
We accidentally ran into Craig and shared lunch with him overlooking the bridge. Then, upon my request, we took the pave bike path through the city to Fisherman’s Wharf so I could see seals up close and personal for the first time.
Ruth and Rob needed to buy a box for their flight to Mexico. They had decided to take a train from San Francisco to Los Angeles because of the fires. From there, they would go to Mexico. We all headed to Oakland on a ferry, had a celebration at Public House Bar, and shared treats and a sketchy hotel together. It was a bittersweet night to part with people I had become so close to.
Ruth and Rob left me behind for a bit because I was struggling due to knee issues. I spent a lot of the morning crying, and even threw my bike on the ground a few times. I had a total meltdown and was so frustrated with myself. It didn’t help that the only other cars I saw on the road and could ask help from were sports cars going one hundred miles per hour.
Luckily, it was mostly flat until Point Reyes, but I still was in so much pain that it was almost unbearable. When I finally met up with Ruth and Rob at Point Reyes, we discovered that we couldn’t continue our route due to wildfires. This was a bummer, but also a blessing, because we were able to take a bus to San Rafael. This saved my knee and our lungs, and overall was more safe for everybody.
We ended up biking to a lagoon in San Rafael to stealth camp, when this lady approached us and invited us to stay in her house. She admired our adventurous spirit and wanted to help us out. We ate with her, took warm showers, and exchanged stories. The kindness of strangers on the road never ceases to amaze me.
We made this a short day because we had been pushing ourselves too hard. My knee started to feel a stabbing pain, so I had to make a ton of stops. The big hills on highway 1 were beautiful, but also horrifying because there wasn’t a guard rail. It was remote and trickled with vacation homes, with painful up and downs.
On one of the painful ups, we cycled through a burn area and could taste the ash in the air, and see it on the ground. At the top of the hill, we met Craig, a cyclist we hadn’t seen yet.
He was cycling from Seattle to San Francisco, but he was taking 3 months to do it. We chatted with him a bit and kept going, with plans to meet up with him later.
When we finally got to Bodega Bay Dunes State Park, the lady working at the visitor center rejected us due to COVID. No hiker/biker spots were allowed to be in use. We could’ve gotten a hotel but Bodega Bay was pretty pricey, so we begged for help at the visitor center. The guy working in the office was actually also a ranger for Bodega Bay Dunes State Park, and he gave us the go ahead to camp there.
We returned to the park, and the person working at the entrance was not very apologetic about turning us away the first time. We awkwardly cycled in, and found that Craig somehow already was there with two other cyclists cycling from Seattle to San Diego.
We ended up all having another “Pacific Coast Party” and we made Spanish Tortillas, cake, pizza and drank wine. It was a night that I’ll never forget.