Category: Travel

Salvation Mountain

by Ashley filed under Bits + Pieces, Travel
Salvation Mountain is in an area referred to as “Slab City”, in Niland, not far from the Salton Sea. Slab City used to be the training grounds for the Marines back in 1942, but when operations ceased a few years later, the buildings were removed and sold. Since then, it remains abandoned with only cement foundations, hence the name “Slab City”. Today, RV campers occupy the area mostly in the winter months. Be what it may, when you ride up to it, it feels completely random and odd; Like walking through a weird dream.
We only encountered one other couple on our visit to Salvation Mountain. I guess there are some perks of going in the dreaded summer heat because I’ve read you can battle up to 100 people in the winter and well, it just wouldn’t have been the same.
Salvation Mountain was built by Leonard Knight who is currently 82 years old and resides in a nursing home in San Diego. He has volunteers that rotate watch on his mountain and are available to ask questions to if going up to a seemingly abandoned trailer in the middle of nowhere is your thing. And, you better believe, it’s my thing.
You can read about Leonard Knight by clicking here and more about the history of the mountain by clicking here.

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The Salton Sea

by Ashley filed under Bits + Pieces, Travel

Oh the Salton Sea. There isn’t a place like it, that’s for sure. And any picture of the place only tells you a small sliver of the story, let me tell you. It’s kinda like looking at a picture of a men’s urinal from a dirty truck stop, you just can’t smell the urine and filth. Same same, but different.
In a photo, it looks like one of the most stunning places. Am I right, or am I right? Please allow me to ruin it for you now.
Use your senses: The temperature is 120F / 47C. It feels like you opened the oven door after you had it closed and heating for a couple of hours. The heat consumes you. It’s difficult to breath. Sweat trickles down your back and your dress becomes stuck to the back of your leg with each step you take. Your hair is crunchy, proof you’ve gone between the sweltering heat and the air conditioned car. Oh ya, and the air is completely stagnate. In 2012 the Salton Sea was confirmed as the source of the rotten egg smell in the LA Basin. The LA Basin is 150 miles away from the Salton Sea. Can you imagine how bad a fart would have to smell to travel even a mile? I’m trying to put this stench in perspective, people. I could tell you it smells like sulfur, but it’s worse than that. It’s more like sulfur with rotten egg with rotting corpse. As soon as you step out of your car, you hear the buzzing of a thousand flies. They land on your face and they invade your car. There is no amount of shooing that will stop them. As you walk closer to the water’s edge, you hear crunching only to look down and discover that what appears to be sand is really just mutilated fish bone and with each step you are making more, um, “sand”.
But oh it’s a site to behold, isn’t it?
We stopped in at a local bar in Bombay Beach to beat the heat, enjoyed some cold beer, and watched as the locals swatted flies with their oversized fly swatters. 
I mentioned the Bombay Beach documentary a while back. Here’s the trailer for it. Gotta love any documentary with music by Beirut and Bob Dylan. It was… interesting.

Want to read more about why the Salton Sea is the way it is? This article is one of the best I’ve read.

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A Girls Long Weekend, Palm Springs

by Ashley filed under Ashley, Bits + Pieces, Motherhood, Travel

Those who follow me on Instagram know I was recently in Palm Springs for some much needed girl time. I returned back just a few days later with Willy and the boys’ and had an awesome time hanging out with this beautiful family, but there will be more on that later.
I had been feeling so down and out after weaning, wondering when the funk would pass. I knew it was hormonal, but having the knowledge of the culprit did absolutely nothing in terms of digging myself out of the hole. I cried for two days. And I napped, which sounds dreamy – I know – but it was more of the depressed I-don’t-have-energy-to-do-anything kinda nap as opposed to the physically drained I-earned-a-nap kinda nap.
It lasted two days and even though those two days felt like marathon days, in hindsight it passed pretty quickly. Like having a newborn, when you’re in the trenches, not only do you not see the light but you don’t even know if you’re walking in the right direction. For all I knew, life was getting darker. Looking up depression after weaning, like everything else, was both a blessing and a curse; cool, I’m not alone… Ho hum, sometimes this lasts months?!
We had that nice weekend I spoke of here and a few days after that, I hit the road with my best friend.
And there’s nothing like the open road with your best friend. There just isn’t.
Sometimes when I’m away from the kids it feels like all I do is talk about them. But while our children came up in passing, we talked about so many other things: memories, work, dreams, travel, our husbands, things we are working on around the home, design, photography. We threw around quotes we had come across that made something clear that was a bit fuzzy before and we talked about some of the new documentaries we had watched. We listened to music, pulled over often to stretch our legs, and threw stuff in the back of the truck as if we had assistants back there to sort it all out for us.
It was just what I need and right when I needed it.
So please excuse the next few posts as I get caught up on sharing some photos from our adventure. There were no kids, so – ya know – we stopped a lot and drove a lot and photographed a lot.
Take that, you evil mom guilt. I’m not even feeling guilty about a

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few days away. I’m not. I said I’m not. And if I say it three times, I must be true.

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Wild & Free

by Ashley filed under Parenting, Travel

Let these words sit and marinate, I’ll come back to them: “And then there was me. The Mother. The Artist. The little girl who filled notebooks with trees and rivers and thickets rich with treasure. I knew, deep in my deepest place of Knowing, that the only place my soul would ever feel secure, free from danger or threat, was exploring, with abandon, the wild and beautiful unknown”.
I confessed to a friend the other day that despite having done all I have in life, I’m still not sure I did enough prior to settling into motherhood. And the list of what I have done is long and diverse. I’ve rode elephants in Thailand and camels in Egypt, seen the Taj Mahal, spent a summer in France as an au pair for a family I still visit in London, I’ve camped on several different beaches in Mexico, got engaged in the Dominican Republic, seen the pyramids and King Tut’s tomb, drank mint tea in Casablanca, and even made my way to Cuba which is technically illegal.
I read this article that outlined three reasons to travel while you’re young. And I realized two things: I’m no longer young and, as aforementioned, I’m not sure I traveled enough while I was young.
When you’re young, you don’t quite grasp the freedom in doing what you want. You think of yourself as an individual entity and it’s hard to foresee a time in the future that your life is no longer your own. A time that, despite not being a prisoner, is nonetheless no longer about you and how you want to spend your day.
Sometimes I ask Willy if he’d be willing to pack up and travel around in an RV for a year. He doesn’t take me entirely seriously and I can’t say I’m entirely serious either, but it’s important (to me) to plant that seed and let it sit in the event that one day I may grow some hairy nuts and chose to water that seed. I don’t want to appear to come out of left field, so I plant seeds. A little virtual garden of dreams.
I do this because I’m still attached to my memories of traveling from my youth. I still feel their impact. I still feel their importance. I still feel the fire that these experiences ignited in my soul. I recognize how traveling changed me. Molded me. Defined me. And I want, so bad, to raise my youngins with the same “go, see, do” mentality.
The words above were written by Michelle Gardella as a feature on Artifact Uprising. Her story left me with a lump in my throat. Sometimes this life I live feels so right; I love my family deeply, with my whole heart. We have a home that’s small but big enough for us. We have successful careers in that we watch the dollars we spend, but not the pennies. And yet, at times, I feel like I am playing a role; like I’m acting out the American dream- the house, the kids, the dog, the careers- but my soul knows that it’s not entirely me. It’s part of me, but not all of me. The other part of me knows that the only way to live is wild and free; with dirt under my nails and ever changing scenery. I think we all long for some of this; I long for it so deeply that I can only assume it’s human nature.
It’s the practical versus emotional debate and it’s a heavy one. My practical side tells me I’m doing fantastic; it tells me my ducks are pretty well lined up, it tells me to keep planning and putting away for the future, it reminds me to stay frugal and yells at me to stop thinking so much when I’m driving on those long stretches of road with the windows down and the music up and the kids peacefully gazing out the window. My emotional side tells me that fire is still ignited for a reason; it tells me that ducks belong in a pond or the sky, not in a line; it tells me that there are many ways to live our lives, and it begs me to redefine the word “success”.
THIS is who I am. I feel like every post needs this post as a preface so I can be fully understood. Michelle’s words really got under my skin like an annoying bug bite that I’m constantly feeling the urge to itch.
I go on with the norm from day to day because the norm is my life right now. I have a family to care for and consider. And the ambiguity in how an alternative life would workout keeps that fire at just a flicker, a small flame that bends and twists with the wind but never fully goes out.
Dear Hooper & Van, never stay stagnant. Even while you’re sitting in one place, may your soul be jumping.
Side note: The photo above was taken in Baja, Mexico in 2006. I was with Janet and we rang in the new year at a hole in the wall bar filled with locals. It was a few weeks after my first date with Willy and I remember missing him. Our tent was just out of frame, right there on the sandy beach.
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Fasten Your Seat Belts

by Ashley filed under Ashley, Motherhood, Travel
This post is dedicated to first time moms traveling for the first time because I’ll bet any mom that has traveled with an infant more than once will have additional tips and tricks of the trade. Feel free to share by using the comment link below. Here we go…
-When you purchase your flight, you’ll need to let the airlines know you are traveling with an infant. If you buy your ticket online, some sites will have a box you check but others won’t. Sometimes you have to pick up the good ol’ telephone and give em’ a little jingle to inform them of the parasite traveling on you. They don’t need to know if you have crabs or lice, however, just a baby. You’ll also need to make a copy of your baby’s birth certificate or birth record or immunization record (anything that has his birthday on it). Bring this with you, as you’ll need it to check in. I usually leave a copy in the diaper bag because it’s easy to forget. If you do forget it, they can call your pediatrician’s office and have them fax something over… but that only works if the office is open and even then there is the obvious delay. It pays to have your shit together, trust me.
-Pack the night before. Leave a little note for the time fairy begging and pleading for this to be made possible. Leave a list on top of your suitcase for things you’ll need to add in the morning. For me, this list included things like the white noise maker (which we use every night), the swaddle sac (also used every night), pumping supplies (used every morning).
-Come up with a breastfeeding game plan. I like to feed just before we leave the house and then during take off and landing. Make sure you pack your hooter hider or blanket in your carry on. Or let it all hang out. Seriously, the seats are so close together that the weird guy next to you would probably have to lean forward and kink his neck in your direction to sneak a peek of your ta-tas anyway. And if you do spy a creeper, just tell em’ your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. And then squirt em’ in the face.
-Have your travel companion (if you’re so lucky) drop you off curbside with all the stuff… because lets face it, if you’re traveling with a little munchkin, you’ll have the dreaded “stuff” I speak of: luggage, stroller, car seat, car seat base, sanity, good attitude, patience… it call gets dropped off curbside. As a side note, it’s easier to travel with a snap-n-go. I leave Van in the car seat/snap-n-go until boarding and then check the whole contraption in at the gate. You can pick up the proper tags at the gate. I check the base of the car seat in (which is always free of charge), along with the big luggage (not always free of charge. Screw you, Delta.), before going through security. As a side note, if you’re not knowledgeable about hooking the car seat into the car, you should review this before you leave to make the transition into the car at your destination smooth. I always review it with Willy before I leave if I’m traveling by myself. There’s nothing worse than getting to where you’re going only to be held up by trying to figure out the car seat. This situation is made worse if you have a crying baby to top it off. Save yourself the frustration.
-When you check in, inquire if the flight is full. Try to hold your infant in your arms when you ask (to rake in the sympathy points). And if your baby is cute (ha! I joke, they’re all cute), turn him toward the lady (fingers crossed it’s a lady… or an older man… or just a sympathetic person) and lift up baby’s arm to give em’ a little wave. If the flight is not full, ask if they could kindly leave the seat next to you open. This has happened to me several times and each of these times I felt like a lottery winner. Seriously, it’s the best.
Some airlines don’t assign seats and allow you pick your seat as you get on to the plane. If this is the case, don’t clean the spit up off your baby’s onesie and fart so there’s a nice aroma in the air as they pass you (because they will pass you. No one wants to sit by a baby, let alone a smelly baby. Despite their reluctance to be your neighbor, these will be the same people that tell you how cute your baby is and praise you for how good your baby was. These lovely compliments only come after the plane has landed and only if your baby was seen and not heard. No one says anything nice beforehand, carefully reserving the right to hate you and your child should your child ruin their flight).
If your baby does cry, try all your tricks (duh, right?). If nothing works, get over it. It’s not your fault. You don’t have any more control than the drunken fool two rows behind you. Hate the game, not the player = Hate the high altitude ear poppin’ pain, not the baby. If you get a dirty look, give em’ the good ol’ tongue. You thought I was going to say finger, huh? Nope, the old-school stickin’ your tongue out like a sassy second grader is the card I play in this situation. Really though, as you walk off the plane leave it all behind and enjoy your trip.
-How did we already get on the plane without mentioning the dreaded security? Back to before you get the whole shebang on the plane… Going through security can be a pain the ass with or without a baby. As fate would have it, it seems as though every time we wheel up to security, the baby is asleep. When the sleeping baby was Hooper and I was a first time mom, I couldn’t believe they’d make me wake a sleeping baby. I thought for sure I’d be an exception to whatever rule. Turns out the TSA agents are not the ones gloating over a sleeping child. Nor are they the ones responsible for getting that child back to sleep. Thus, they don’t give a shit about you and your sleeping baby. Just like the shoes and the belt and the wallet and every last straggling dime in your pocket, the car seat goes onto the belt. As a result, you must wake your little one up and carry him through with you. This never fails to piss me off and I always have to remind myself that I ought to hate the terrorists, not the TSA agent. But, without fail I leave security wanting to slap someone. In any case, this is why you pack your patience and good attitude.
-If you’re traveling with breast milk, review both the law (you can bring milk on a plane, even if it exceeds the 4oz. limit) and storage instructions. While I was in Utah, I kept to my pumping schedule (I pump 2 to 3 times a day in addition to breastfeeding) and thus had milk to bring back with me. Because milk cannot be frozen, then thawed, then frozen again, I stored my milk in the fridge while in Utah, then packed it with a bag of ice for the flight, and then froze it when I got home. If you’re going on a long flight with milk, it’s best to bring a zip lock bag and refill the ice as you travel to keep the milk cold. You can get ice from a restaurant near your gate as well as from the flight attendants. If you’re worried about the TSA agents giving you trouble, you may want to print out a copy of what the law says to keep with you. I did this once for piece of mind, but honestly have never had a problem.
Hope these tips are helpful. Feel free to share your tips and tricks too! Best of luck and hope I’m not the unlucky lady (did I really just refer to myself as a lady? I prefer girl… adult girl) who gets stuck sitting next to you and your crying smelly child. I’ll totally give you the stink eye. Just kidding.
As a side note… If you are a man reading this… or even a nice non-child totting woman… help the lady and her baby out. Hold the door, help squish her carry-on into that much too tiny overhead compartment, offer to hold her baby (only if you really want to hold him, of course) while she buckles her seat belt… I cannot tell you how many people have walked right past me while I’ve struggled to get a stroller up stairs. I silently say very mean things to them and if, by chance, they trip… I laugh and roll past them.

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Utah, Part 1

by Ashley filed under Ashley, Motherhood, Travel, Van, Videos
I spent this past weekend in Utah, with my best friend. My heart is warm every time I’m with her. I feel inspired by her mere presence. If it sounds like I love her, it’s because I do. Every girl needs a best friend they truly love. Mine is Janet.
When we’re together, anything feels possible. The world feels small again. I swear I hear opportunity knocking on my doorstep and the footsteps of ideas running through my head. She leaves me feeling motivated and confident. Every time.
Hope you enjoy this little video of our time together. And thank you, J, for an epic weekend… The weekend where your Carla met my Van. They don’t know it, but their lives will never be the same 😉

Utah, Part 1 from The Stork & The Beanstalk on Vimeo.

Aloha

by Ashley filed under Ashley, Hooper, Pregnancy, Travel
We leave today for Hawaii. The last time we were there, Hooper was 11 months old and the memory of our time there is synonymous with a personality explosion. It’s the beginning point of when I can say the real fun began. I look at these pictures of Hooper and I and can’t help but envision both of my boys in this photo. Baby #2 may not have a presence in these photos and the pregnancy test was definitely not even positive at this point in time, but I know for certain those cells were dividing and doing many miraculous things behind the scene. Oh life, you are such a beautiful thing.
I won’t be able to post any pics from Hawaii until we return, but you can follow me on Instagram by clicking here or on the link on the right hand side of the blog. I’ll be instagraming it up the whole time!