Bayfield, Colorado is the twenty-fourth installment of Finding My Way Home. To view the previous installment, click here. If you wish to start from the beginning, click here. This is the ongoing story of the six years I spent as a vagabond photographer.

Thinking back to when I pulled up roots, downsized my life, and went on the road, I remember the fear. Fear of the unknown, mostly. I told myself then, “Whatever happens, I will deal with it the best I can.” I’m finding the need to constantly remind myself that there will be unforeseen problems, and I will be competent and capable enough to deal with them. But, there is a huge difference between telling yourself something and actually doing it.

Such is the broken windshield. In a phone call with the insurance company, I find out the windshield is covered, but any damage or rust of the frame under it is not. It’s almost as if they know something I don’t. Sure enough, when the auto glass repair person takes out the broken windshield, he finds rust that must be mitigated before a new windshield can be installed. This requires an auto body repair person.

The plan is to order the replacement windshield and get the rust repaired while awaiting its arrival. This should all happen in the course of four or five days. During that time, they’ve taped a tarp over the front driver’s side of the motor home to close it up. This seems like a good plan, except that the temperatures are dropping into the thirties at night. After the first night, I find myself taping up blankets over the inside in an attempt to stay warm.

Luckily, the repair and installation go smoothly, and although the cost is more than twice what I expected, I have a nice, new, leak-proof windshield and I’m warm at night. Handling this relatively minor issue is reassuring and empowering.

My brain has been conditioned, over my whole life, to react with fear. From growing up in a state of constant uncertainty about whether we might pack up and move under the cover of darkness. From being married to someone I couldn’t trust. My brain automatically goes to fear whenever anything troubling happens. Not just fear, but FEAR. It’s as though my very survival is being threatened, even when my logical brain knows that’s not true. My emotional brain tells me to fear for my life. This is the ledge from which I constantly must talk myself down.

I’ve met so many people who say I’m “brave” for traveling full time, alone. Maybe I am. But, the truth is, life is a series of challenges. Whether in a permanent residence, or a sequence of temporary ones. Whether you are alone, married, or something else. Overcoming the obstacles life throws your way determines your peace and satisfaction. Even the small difficulties provide a chance to succeed. All the troubles, big or small, are life lessons. And learning is really what life is all about. To stop learning is to stop living.

Meanwhile, I am in one of the most beautiful parts of the country just as the seasons are turning from summer to fall. I am fortunate to spend my days exploring the mountains of southern Colorado and watching the aspens change.

I’m also fortunate to have my son as a house guest for a weekend or two in between his work for the Southwest Conservation Corps. He seems a little surprised by how much he is enjoying his work in the wilderness. I’m so happy for him for the opportunity to commune with nature and meet the types of people he never would have in the halls of academia.

Much to my delight, I found out there is a hot air balloon festival in Pagosa Springs the weekend before my birthday. Back in Yreka, which now seems like a lifetime ago, I used to look forward to the Montague Balloon Festival also held near my birthday. It seems fitting to go because those are the kind of birthday balloons I really like.

The RV park where I’m staying in Bayfield was once a farm. With water rights to the Los Pinos River, they have reconfigured some of the irrigation canals into meandering streams and dug a few fishing ponds for the guests. The water is then recirculated back to the main river. While Luna is not allowed to swim in the ponds, because people are fishing, there are a few places in the streams where she can. We are both very much enjoying the place and our daily walks and play time.

The month goes by quickly. As my time here draws to a close, I have a big decision to make. I had pretty much assumed I would head back to the Pacific Northwest as winter began to descend on the Rocky Mountains. Of course, I miss Chris and I’m too far away for a short visit. On the other hand, I’ve been on the west coast for the last two winters and feel like I want to try something different this winter.

I’ve avoided the whole “snowbird” stereotype until now, but curiosity about spending the winter months in the desert southwest has gripped me. Also, the balloon festival got me thinking about the huge, famous one held in Albuquerque, New Mexico each year. After discussing my ideas with Chris, I’ve decided to head south. When winter is turning to spring, I will go further west and we will meet up somewhere in California.

Excited, I start making calls to RV parks in and around Albuquerque. It’s not long before I realize my budget will not accommodate the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta. Most all the parks I reach are already booked full. Some fill all their sites a year in advance. The ones that still have space available are charging three to four times the rates they charge any other time of the year. Since I cannot afford hundreds of dollars for a night or two, I will have to forgo the event.

Although balloons are fun, wildlife is what really gets me excited. Especially since I have spent most of my time lately photographing landscapes. Don’t get me wrong, I love landscapes. And southern Colorado has some of the most beautiful landscapes anywhere. But, I’m starting to miss wildlife photography. I go back and forth that way. Photographing landscapes for a while, until it starts to get stale. Then I switch to wildlife until landscapes start calling me again. The variety keeps me fresh and my skills in shape. It’s time for some birds!

I settle on a route that will take me to Aztec, Grants, and San Antonio, New Mexico, where I will visit Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. The refuge is legendary among birders and I have heard much about it in my visits to other refuges. Thousands of sandhill cranes spend the winter there and they should be arriving just about the time I get there.

After a farewell visit with my friend Colleen over coffee and pastries, I prepare to head south. My departure from here is bittersweet. Knowing this will be the longest amount of time on my own, without a visit from Chris, has me a little sad. But, I’m also enthusiastic about a winter in the desert, and one of the most storied wildlife refuges in the country. This will be my winter as a snowbird.