Level 3: Reconsider Travel

December 9-10, 2025

We packed up and pulled out of our BLM campsite in Tucson this morning, still riding high on the fact that it was garbage-free when we left. Sparkling. Pristine. Practically begging for a “please take your shoes off before entering” sign. We'll be back again on our anniversary, squeezing in a little romance on our way to our Phoenix flight for Christmas. 

After we left, BLM finally responded to my email saying they'd send someone out the next day to clean up the garbage. When I let them know we had already done the job, they called me personally to shower us with praise and offer a certificate and free BLM swag, which apparently includes stickers and other mystery treasures that they are sure are stuffed somewhere in the back corners of their cabinets. It was all very nice. I hadn’t meant to toot my own horn—it just sort of happened. I'll let you all know what the swag is when we come back on the 17th. 

Sadly, on our final drive-by on the way out of town after running errands? Two full grocery bags of trash right in front of our "No Dumping" sign. Basically a giant middle finger in plastic-bag form. Good thing BLM said they’d still swing by tomorrow “just to check on things.” Nothing like a scheduled government inspection to scare the rebel litterers. 

Our next stop: a wildlife refuge called Buenos Aires, down near the Mexican border. It was created specifically for the Bobwhite (hint: that's a quail). And for all you Wood Badge alums who got stuck in that undesirable patrol, the Bobwhite is, in fact, a real thing deserving of its very own preserve. You may now retroactively feel less disappointed and more honored.

The place feels remote, wide-open, and vaguely African savanna-ish—possibly because a sign casually mentioned we were in jaguar territory. Jaguars are not African, but they are exotic, and my brain filled in the rest.

As we got closer to camp, it became clear we were entering Serious Border Country. About 90% of the vehicles on the road were Border Patrol. There was also a giant surveillance blimp floating overhead, watching everything with an array of “smart” cameras. Helicopters swooped across the sky. 

Naturally, being only five miles from Sasabe, Mexico, we Googled whether we should pop over to explore. Google responded with the equivalent of a horrified gasp. Hard no. It's a key corridor for human and drug smuggling. The town was literally abandoned in 2023 after two cartels started fighting over it. Homes burned, civilians fled, and the U.S. briefly granted refuge to many of the residents. The travel advisory still says “Level 3: Reconsider Travel,” which is government speak for: Absolutely not, what is wrong with you?

The constant flyovers do break up the peaceful, remote vibe a bit, but on the plus side, if we need help, it will arrive in about 14 seconds.

Oh—and a Jake update. George’s copycat mustache and earrings apparently triggered some kind of instant style-self-destruct button, because when we FaceTimed the boys today, Jake had buzzed his head and shaved his mustache. The fastest way to get a young person to abandon a style? Have an old person adopt it. Works every time.

We spent the next morning working with our trusty Starlink, then went for a bike ride. The dirt roads here go on for 300 miles, and we tackled about 20 of them. It was beautiful, challenging, and a harsh reminder that eating too much at Thanksgiving is not a training plan. Our Florida ride is looming, and I’m worried. Very worried. Fortunately, we have a few months to get into “not-dying” shape.

As for wildlife? This “wildlife preserve” has so far produced...one raven. That’s it. But we have seen lots of cat tracks and javelina prints, so the creatures are out there—you just have to imagine them.

All in all, it feels good to leave the city behind and once again point our tiny home-on-wheels toward unknown places. Adventures await! 

Every story has a soundtrack. Here's one that illustrates the profound moral complexities of the border.