We left Patagonia the next day, seeing that it set us back $25/night, and drove the forestry roads through the Coronado state forest. The drive was surprisingly woody and tight, winding through shack-y ranches and little sloping houses. Dry grass and steep, rocky cliffs surrounded us. We drove until it approached dusk. We looked at the clock and each other, thinking the same thing: “where the hell are we”? We agreed to turn around at the next pull-out, and immediately past that I noticed a clearing with a firepit. It suited us fine, nestled in next to a wash and a soft, open field.

We settled, gathered wood and made a fire in the cool blackness.

We stayed nearly a week, hiking the Arizona Trails, heading in to Patagonia to bum around and talk to the locals.

One woman, upon hearing our situation, gave us some key advice: at each town we stop at, ask where one could find the local Whole Foods/Organic store, and, once it gets dark, loot the trash cans. She cautioned us on the compactors, saying with a laugh, “when you hop in, just make sure it isn’t on—”

She had traveled this way from California for months, stopping when she found somethings she liked; in this case it was working as a children’s art teacher at the local Tin Shed Theater.

Each day free-range cattle roamed through our site, and after seeing their horns, we took to tying Emmylou to the camper. She sent one high-tailing through the woods. I couldn’t imagine what a momma would do if she was separated from her babe.

Border patrol trucks rolled by multiple times a day, and we realized this sign was at the entrance of the forest. Next time we will leave some water for those traveling through.

We made turkey burgers and tatos for Thanksgiving, and, realizing we had no desert, Mikey whipped up his new signature cast-iron whiskey oatmeal raisin apple crisp. Jesus. It melted in our forks. No need for plates—there was no time.

We died a little in our lawn chairs, in the middle of nowhere, watching the sun set in our hole-y, smoky clothes, thousands of miles from home.

In the following days we would travel through Nogales, Sierra Vista, Bisbee and Tombstone, and then we would find out, to our delight, that grandma and mom were to fly out for a visit. (: