Working on a Dream
One day after we met, Asa and I lounged on top of a scaffolding bar, wearing mesh shirts, Bosch tights, and probably some fur, eyeshadow, and face gems from the night before, while looking over the island palm trees to the city of Miami and talking about our homes. Asa had been living in New Orleans for most of the past 10 years, and I had been in Utah for almost as long. I first moved to Utah to be closer to the desert nature of one of my childhood homes in Santa Fe, but the longer I lived in the city, the heavier I felt. Salt Lake was becoming overcrowded and over-polluted in many ways, so I eventually quit my job, travelled for awhile, and then moved to Moab. While Moab is paradise in many ways, it has its own overcrowded issues, and last year I started re-visiting a dream I had for years—living off grid. I started looking for property around Indian Creek, with the vision of building an Earthship style bed and breakfast, so I could feed all of my climbing friends cookies and host the national and international tourists who come through on their way to climb splitter cracks or hike the needles. As I was telling this dream to Asa, he chimed in that he also had dreams of living off grid and found the idea of Earthships intriguing. He said after so many years of living in the city, he felt like he was heading toward a “nature phase.” Little did we know at the time that the world was about to turn upside down, and we would be seriously considering just how dependent we are on those outside of us for the “conveniences” of our lives.
Effigy at Love Burn 2020
Asa bowing to the sunset on Mardi Gras Day 2020
Stephanie overlooking a canyon in Moab
Arches Sunset
The Needles Canyonlands
Indian Creek
Creekoween Climbing
After purchasing the camper for Asa’s truck, we started talking about buying land. Everything was moving so fast, but as Asa kept reminding me, many of our ancestors had to make quick leaps of faith to do what they thought was best for their survival. While we are both remarkably privileged and are not having to make life or death choices, the rate at which chaos is speeding up in our country makes it feel like the right time to make some of these leaps.
Asa quickly found what seemed like a promising property in New Mexico that was just north of a town we stopped in on our journey to Utah where we had a moving conversation and received a gift from a woman from the nearby reservation. As we drove down the dirt road leading to the property, though, we were met with a different kind of neighbor. Faced with a trailer covered in aggressively written “keep out” signs, we stopped short, and Asa got out to greet him and ask for directions to the property. Within a few seconds of talking, Asa and he realized they had something in common, as Spanky was originally from the New Orleans crust punk scene. The aggressive air immediately changed to stories and laughter. After about an hour of commiserating, a huge RV came driving up the road. Our new friend’s demeanor quickly changed. He started complaining about the “rich” people who just bought property down from him. After a few minutes of hearing about his new neighbors, we parted ways with directions on where to go.
Just up the road, we ran into the people with the RV. They immediately wanted to warn us and complain about their neighbor, but they also enthusiastically wanted to show us around our potential property. As we walked, they told us they bought their property, which connected to the one we were looking at, as a retreat from the city and that they would only be using it on the weekends. They had some friends buy property in the area, and they were hoping other like minded people would buy the remaining lots with the hopes it would drive Spanky out. As we walked and talked, Spanky started playing loud music, and the couple said he did this all night long, pointing his speakers at their property.
The property we were looking at was absolutely beautiful. It had a spectacular sandstone bluff, which created the perfect alcove for a home. However, the feeling I got on the property was just off. It was off initially seeing Spanky’s signs. That feeling dissipated, though, as Asa talked to him. He actually would have probably been a really interesting and fun neighbor. What was more off-putting was what felt like childlike bickering and judgement passing. While both parties clearly had different ideas of why they wanted this land, they both seemed like they probably could have settled some of the grievances during the course of one party. The way the land was pieced up, although each lot had about 8-10 acres, felt like everyone was on top of each other, which made the tension more palpable. We were looking to create a sanctuary, not get entangled in more drama, so we decided to keep looking.
Soon after, Asa started telling me about Pie Town. He found an article written in the Smithsonian Magazine and immediately fell in love with the charm of the town, which is nestled in the Gila National Forest along the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) and known for its pie. I was immediately intrigued with the idea of owning land off the CDT to host thru hikers, as I’ve done one long trail and have been planning to walk the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). It seemed like the ideal spot to encapsulate both our whimsy and need for outdoor recreating. Plus, I am known for baking, and a friend who is a triple crowner (hiking the CDT, PCT, and Appalachian Trail) had just told me she knew one of the pie shop owners. Mountains, hikers, and pies seemed like a clear winner. However, as we got closer to making the journey to check out properties, we learned they all had some form of restrictions on what you could do with the land. While they said they would be ok with us building whatever we wanted, we figured they may change their minds when we started to build a giant titty owl to live in.
Around the time we were looking at Pie Town, Asa came to me with a story about Candy Kitchen, noting we were clearly just looking in the desert districts of New Mexico. Candy Kitchen earned its name back in the time of prohibition, as there was a bootlegger who set up shop in the high desert, selling his wife’s pinon candy over the counter and liquor under the counter. In the 80s, a rancher on the land decided to section it out and sell it as off grid properties, and then in the 90s an artist settled there and started a wolf sanctuary. Over the years, as far as we can tell, it has developed into an off grid sanctuary for those not only looking to get away and be self-sufficient, but also to those looking to build an independent but connected community. The closest “town” is about 15 minutes away down dirt roads and consists of multiple art galleries, a campground, and a coffee shop, which features the locals’ works of art. It is also nestled in between Navajo and Zuni land, national monument and forest land, and is close to the CDT. The listing for the property noted it already had a well, which as anyone who has lived in the desert knows water is the most precious and most difficult resource to find. We knew we needed to go see it, and soon, as the land agent said many people were also looking at it.
As covid continued to increase and significantly impact the Navajo Nation, we were torn, as we knew we needed to check out the property right away, but we wanted to do it in the most responsible way possible. It was good we had the camper, as this allowed us to be self-contained and only stop for gas, which we almost ran out of on the way down since everything on Navajo land, even gas pumps, were closed. We met the land agent in Ramah, which is the closest larger town, consisting of one stop sign, a restaurant, a family dollar, and a post office, and was settled by Mormons back in the day to spread their ministry to the Native Americans. It was about a half an hour drive from there to the land. As we wound our way through country and dirt roads, we turned off at an empty trading post to drive through the wolf sanctuary to come to the property. We were instantly in awe. Not only did it feel mythical to drive through the sanctuary, but the property was perfect. It is covered in pinon pine, a meadow, a rocky bluff that overlooks the sanctuary, an abandoned trailer (that looks like someone decided mid meal to abandon this off grid idea), two sheds that would be perfect art studios, and a 1960s campervan. Not only would we have 8 acres to build and play on, but we could fix up the trailer and campervan to have our first two guest rooms. Asa has been dreaming of building “New Texas” (which is a story for him to tell), and this seemed like it could be it. We decided to jump on it, as long as the well testing came back as viable.
View from the rocky bluff overlooking the wolf sanctuary
The well testing came back inconclusive. The pump is too old and not working. The inspector threw a rock down into it, and it made a splash. After long discussions about our options (including buying a pump to really test it or rely on multiple community wells, which is what most people in the area do), we decided to bet on the land with the hope of the splash being more. While I had a harder time making the leap to buying a piece of desert property with potentially no well, Asa reminded me that even if things did not work out, we at least would have an amazing place to camp.
It is always hard to make these leaps into the unknown, especially for someone who thrives on adventure but also control. I get stuck worrying about if I am going to make the “wrong” decision that I will later regret, but then I remember that even those decisions I thought I regretted still moved me forward to the place I am now. I have been held back more by the times I chose to stay in a place of comfort out of fear of what I did not know and could not see. Over the past five years, I have been trying to live more in line with immediacy and saying yes to opportunities, and even if those opportunities do not end up working out the way I thought they might, I know I will end up in an even more interesting place than I could imagine, growing with each step. And right now, as the world continues to throw curve balls at us, why not take a chance on a dream.
I may have to end every blog post for the foreseeable future with this photo. Trust or Bust. Because what else is there, especially right now. While we aren’t able to go to the property again at the moment, as Navajo Nation just re-implemented a mandatory curfew due to increasing numbers of covid, we’re hoping we can responsibly make a self-supported trip down there sometime soon. Follow us here and on Instagram as we build a driveway, test the splash in the well, and start building homes, our own saloon doored restaurant/bar, temples, greenhouses, a glowing eyed wolf head atop the bluff, a clamshell bedroom, an aerial rig, a mini golf course, and many other practical and whimsical endeavors. See you all sometime in the future on our high desert property overlooking the howling wolves at our first post social distancing celebration, Beanstock. I can’t wait to hug everyone and be in the biggest cuddle puddle ever. Stay healthy and take those leaps.
