nature

Buffalo, Bunkhouses, and the BEST Salt Water Taffy—Our Stay in Liberty, Utah

/ Sharon Ginger / 1 Comment

After chasing geysers, bison (unsuccessfully), and the perfect campground view, we rolled Mosey III into Liberty, Utah—home to our wonderful longtime friends, Maureen and Steve. Nestled in the mountains, their gorgeous hillside home is like a postcard but with better hospitality. Mosey cozied up for a few days in their roomy circular driveway, and we got to do the best thing ever: hang out with people we’ve known forever and eat food we didn’t have to cook ourselves.

Now, let’s talk dogs. Lots of dogs. Their pack includes a mix of beloved rescues and a rotating cast of pet-sitting guests, making their home feel like a canine version of summer camp. Each pup had its own personality, quirks, and mealtime drama—and we loved every second of it.

Our local adventures kicked off with a trip to Gardner Village, a charming little cluster of shops where we may or may not have sampled every flavor of salt water taffy. (Pro tip: the caramel one is life-changing. No notes.) The whole place looks like it was built specifically for wandering, window shopping, and saying things like “Should we get this? We should get this.”

Then came redemption: Antelope Island State Park. After our infamous bison-less trip to Yellowstone, the wildlife gods finally smiled upon us. Herds of bison? Check. Antelope prancing like they were auditioning for a nature documentary? Check. Coyotes giving us side-eye from a safe distance? Also check. It was like the animal kingdom threw us a makeup party.

While there, we explored Fielding Garr Ranch, a preserved mid-1800s ranch complete with a farmhouse, bunkhouse, vintage farm equipment, and animal corrals. Wandering the ranch felt like stepping into a time capsule—if the people back then had dust allergies and wore a lot of denim. Still, it was rustic, beautiful, and full of that “why does this smell like history?” charm.

But as fun as the outings were, the real highlight was sharing laughs, meals, and stories with Maureen and Steve. It’s not every day you get to catch up with people who knew you before your Airstream days and still agree to let you park in their driveway. ❤️

Bouncy Balls, BBQ, and a Big Mystery Brewing

/ Sharon Ginger / Leave a comment

There’s a certain rhythm to life on the road. One day you’re enjoying a nicely grilled steak including all the fixins’ with old friends (thanks Ben and Mo!), the next you’re wedging your 25-foot Airstream into a driveway-sized RV park where the check-in process involves reversing through a hedgerow and whispering prayers to the patron saint of tight corners.

Let’s rewind a bit.

🏄‍♂️ San Clemente: BBQ, Breezes & Besties

We kicked things off staying near the beach in sunny San Clemente. We met up with our dear friends Ben and Maureen for a soul-warming evening of BBQ, conversation, and that perfect cool summer evening breeze. There’s something about good food, a rousing game of Liverpool and familiar faces that makes even a nomadic life feel like home.

🏖️ Santa Barbara: Where the Ball is Life (and Possession is Nine-Tenths of the Dog)

From there, we headed to Santa Barbara, which—plot twist—hosts what must be the smallest RV park in the Northern hemisphere. Our entrance involved navigating a tiny residential street that looked more like an alley from a Wes Anderson film. Let’s just say if you sneezed, you’d miss the turn.

Millie, however, was thriving. On the beach, she launched into a next-level game of fetch that could only be described as “demon possessed.” There was running, barking, spinning in circles, and sand flying like she was training for a canine CrossFit competition. No idea what triggered the frenzy. Was it joy? Salt air? Ghosts of tennis balls past?

We may never know.

🍇 Wine Country (and Drive-Through Dreams)

Next came a beautiful cruise up the 101 through the Santa Ynez Valley, aka California’s wine country. Rolling hills, vineyards, and that sweet summer light that makes everything look like it’s been filtered by a Hallmark Channel cinematographer.

We soaked in the views, made notes for a future, slower visit (with more time to dine), and stopped for a night in Sacramento. Sometimes you need to put the adventure in park, rest your tires, and eat a salad to prove you still can.

🔍 But Wait… Something Mysterious is Brewing

Somewhere between the Santa Barbara beaches and vineyard vistas, we started scheming. A little thank-you to YOU—our wonderful travel tribe, blog readers, road warriors, wanderlusters, and weekend-dreamers.

And so, coming very, very soon…

✨A mystery giveaway to celebrate all things travel, joy, and curiosity.✨

We’re not spilling the whole story just yet—but here’s what we can tell you:

• It’s small enough to mail, but big enough to make you smile.

• It might smell like the road. Or taste like it.

• It could be from us. It could be from the coast. It could be both.

• And yes, there will be a way to win.

All will be revealed next week.

So whether you’re following along for the Airstream antics, Millie’s beachside ball therapy, or just because you like weird roadside stories—we’re so glad you’re here.

Stay tuned, friends. The road has more stories to tell, and this next one might just end up in your mailbox.

⸻

P.S. Any guesses what the giveaway might be? Leave a comment on the blog. Spoiler: wild guesses earn extra imaginary points.

Airstream vs. Hailstorm: Guess Who Won

/ Sharon Ginger / 5 Comments

You know how some evenings are so uneventful you can hear the cicadas yawning? That’s what we thought we were getting into in Big Spring, Texas.

We’d just wrapped a long day of driving through the scorched and sunbaked stretches of West Texas, with temperatures brushing 100 degrees and not a cloud in sight. The Airstream was parked. The jacks were down. I was in my pajamas, debating whether or not to make popcorn or just collapse. Life was good. Or so we thought.

Then… BZZZZZ BZZZZZ — our phones lit up like slot machines in Vegas.

Supercell Storm Alert. Extreme Winds. Torrential Rain. Tornado Watch. Giant hail up to 4 inches likely.

I blinked at the screen. Four inch-sized hail?! That’s not hail, that’s something between a golf ball and a small dinosaur egg. And suddenly I was no longer thinking about popcorn—I was having terrifying flashbacks to that storm in New Mexico four years ago. You know, the one that left our old Airstream looking like it lost a bar fight with a bag of marbles? Yeah. That one.

We looked at each other. Joel, ever the optimist, said, “Maybe it’ll miss us.”

I, ever the realist (read: professional worrier), said, “I’m not risking it, we’re leaving.”

Within 15 minutes, we were packed up, hitched, and rolling out—me still in my PJs, probably looking like a crazed escapee from a campground asylum, barking directions like a storm chaser’s sidekick on Red Bull.

The storm was coming in from the west, and we were booking it south like our aluminum lives depended on it. The sky lit up with forked lightning, and we could see the rain (and possibly hail?) streaking down in the distance like nature’s own version of a horror movie.

I kept yelling, “Go, go, go!” like Joel was in a Fast & Furious sequel: Airstream Drift.

It was a full-blown showdown: us vs. Mother Nature.

And miraculously, we won.

We ended up driving 120 miles (yes, at night, in the dark, through West Texas emptiness) until we reached a tiny town with a KOA campground—closed, of course. At that point it was pushing midnight, still hotter than a baked potato under a heat lamp, and we parked by the roadside, no hookups, no A/C, just two exhausted humans, two confused dogs, and a very sweaty, but safe trailer.

We didn’t sleep much. But we also didn’t have to explain to our insurance company why our roof looked like a sieve.

The next morning we pointed our scorched wheels toward New Mexico and Arizona, where the storms gave way to…wait for it…110-degree sunshine. Because Mother Nature apparently thinks we want to live on the sun.

But that’s life on the road, right? One night you’re peacefully watching Netflix in your pajamas, and the next you’re in a high-speed escape from hail the size of grapefruits.

At least we’ve got a good story—and an intact roof.

5 responses to “Airstream vs. Hailstorm: Guess Who Won”

  1. Michael Hirst Avatar
    Michael Hirst

    OMG! I would’ve sprinted out of there, too. And been crazy worried the entire night. Make that times 2 for Sally. Phew. I’m glad you guys are safe now – even if uncomfortably hot. But that’s better than 4 inch hail!!

    Michael

    Michael A. Hirst
    Hirst Law Group, P.C.
    200 B Street
    Davis, California 95616
    P: (530) 756-7700
    F: (530) 756-7707
    michael.hirst@hirstlawgroup.com

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    1. Sharon Ginger Avatar
      Sharon Ginger

      Not a fun experience and one I don’t hope to repeat anytime soon!

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  2. Helen. Potts Avatar
    Helen. Potts

    hi you two its Helen Potts! What an adventure you are having, wow love how you write its like being there!!

    happy trails

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    1. Sharon Ginger Avatar
      Sharon Ginger

      It’s great to hear from you again Helen, I hope you are well.

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      Reply
  3. Helen Avatar
    Helen

    Hi, you two!It looks like you are still enjoying your Airstre

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Keeping our Cool in Blue Hole Springs

/ Sharon Ginger / Leave a comment

A (Mostly) Brave Adventure to Blue Hole Springs

Ah, Blue Hole Springs — a little slice of Florida tucked inside Florida Caverns State Park, where the water is always cool and the sun is always shining (at least on our visit).

It was a warm, sunny day, the kind that practically begs you to cannonball into a spring-fed swimming hole. Surrounded by towering old oaks dripping with Spanish moss, Blue Hole Springs looked like something out of a postcard. A few kids were already splashing around, parents were camped out in the shade, and the whole scene had “summer fun” written all over it.

But then… someone mentioned the gator.

Now, let’s be clear — this wasn’t an actual gator sighting, more like a local legend. Apparently, Blue Hole is occasionally visited by a curious alligator. You know, just to check in on the humans and make sure everyone’s behaving.

Well, that was enough for Joel. He took one look at that serene, sparkling water and said, “Nope, not today, nature.” He appointed himself Chief Towel Holder and stationed himself on dry land with the cooler like it was a lifeguard post — minus the whistle and the desire to get wet.

Meanwhile, the rest of us decided to risk it all for a refreshing dip. And let me tell you — that water is cold. The kind of cold that makes your soul briefly leave your body before returning with a shriek. But it felt amazing on a hot afternoon. There’s something about swimming in a spring surrounded by mossy oaks and birdsong that makes you forget about gators (well, almost).

In the end, Joel may not have gotten wet, but he did heroically guard our flip-flops, provide running commentary, and issue false gator alarms every few minutes, just to keep us on our toes.

If you’re heading to Florida Caverns State Park, do yourself a favor and visit Blue Hole Springs. It’s beautiful, it’s bracing, and if you’re lucky, Joel might be there to save you from imaginary reptiles.

10/10, would jump in again (after checking for eyeballs floating by first).

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