Oh, The Places You Will Go

On July 8, 2017 By Tanya VomackaLeave a comment

I love airports. Despite the tediousness of security lines and the offense of my feet touching the ground where other unknown (and most definitely unwashed) feet have tread. Watching humanity in transit is captivating.

Look beyond the rush of people, the too-drunk business travelers, the harried families, the lost tourists and the large quantities of unwashed feet and you can’t help but wonder about these strangers around you.

What adventures await them? Will they find a new love or have they just said goodbye to an old one? Are their travels bringing them nearer to home or further from their daily stresses?

Even now, as I watch the two grey-bearded men sitting in front of me with their matching handlebar mustaches, utility shorts, and Hawaiian shirts. I imagine they are Super Villains having just successfully completed another dastardly cartoon-like caper. Now, with their villainry complete they are headed to a Sandels Resort where they will lay by the pool all day getting drunk on daiquiris. What can I say even Super Villians need a little Island time.

Most stories don’t need to be imagined. Sometimes the chapter opens with a welcoming smile or a helpful hand. On a plane ride home from Austin I sat next to a well-dressed but weary-eyed traveler, exhausted myself I nodded and gave him a quick half smile acknowledging a shared need for rest and a promise of a quiet flight to our respective homes. Instead, my new seat mate shot back a toothy grin so full of warmth and energy that we spent the next several hours chatting. Once homeless, he was now a motivational speaker for at-risk youth. Having learned the value of tenacity, random acts of kindness and the transformative power of education he has made his life’s work to be “Homeless by Choice“, traveling the country sharing his story encouraging young people by example and proving surviving and thriving is an option.

On a trip to San Francisco I bonded with a stranger over a hank of yarn. A “hank” is basically unwound yarn and for a beginning knitter (that’s me) working from a hank versus a neatly wound ball of yarn is like trying to knit with live snakes. After a few minutes of watching me fail at my snake wrangling this kind stranger held up his hands and walked me through how to loop the yarn around his hands until I had a neatly formed ball of yarn. While I worked the yarn he explained how he used to help his mother do the same thing and as time ticked by I learned about what it was like for him growing up in Mexico, as a gay man and about his fear in coming out to his Catholic mother whom he dearly loved. It was risky, he said, but so was living someone else’s life.

It turns out my Super Villians were actually sweet engineering professors on the way home from vacation. One of whom used to teach at the university I work for now. We shared a few stories about clear night skies and the benefit of star gazing in locations without light pollution. Maybe that’s what it is about airports, despite the transient nature of its inhabitants rushing to and from, we are all at the mercy of time. Momentarily stuck together in a kind of suspended animation, waiting. Bonded against our common enemies of weather and overbooked airlines we are suddenly (and briefly) free to see one another unobstructed. Yes, that’s what I love about airports those brief conversations, sharing of stories, and the opportunity to meet more humans and fewer super villains.

Until next time, happy camping.

Spencer ready to create a few new stories of his own.

Yes, he has nicer shoes. At least I know these feet are clean. Pretty sure anyway.

Are you there Dorothy? Home is calling.

On July 9, 2014December 4, 2015 By Tanya Vomacka4 Comments

Oh, do I ever want to go home. Really, I do. After all, there is no place like it, right Toto?

I know a couple of weeks camping in few state parks hardly qualifies me for my own Survivorwoman show on Discovery. Come on, admit it, though, you know you’d watch. I can see it now me versus nature with just my wits and my trusty red crocs. Huge hit, huge. Call me Discovery, seriously.

Alright, I know how this works ruby slippers on (I told you I wasn’t a practical packer) and a click, click, click of my heels and then I say “There’s no place like…” What was that Toto? What do you mean it isn’t time yet?

But I waaaaaaaaant to go home! Home, where I walk only a few feet to use the bathroom instead of a 1/2 mile, and shower without shoes and absent of all unwanted visitors human or arachnid. The land of clean sheets and down pillows with food that isn’t stored in our car to avoid unwanted bear attention. WiFi, cable TV, a Starbucks on every corner where they not only know my name but my very (and I mean very) specific order. But do you want to know what I miss most of all, Toto? Something so rare even Glinda cannot conjure it up? Alone time! Sweet, blissful, time behind a door, in my room, alone. I have bonded with family, communed with nature so now let’s blow this…

Sorry, lost myself a little, a mind can wander out here in the bush.

Back to reality.

With one last day of “roughing it” ahead of us. The plan is simple. After 11 days of hiking, mountain biking, tubing, and just generally trying to figure out “WTF” we were doing we decided a few peaceful hours boating on Claytor Lake was the perfect end to our summer trip.

Claytor Lake is a 21-mile-long lake created in 1939 when the Appalachian Power Company built a nearby dam to provide water for the Claytor Hydroelectric Plant. At the bottom of the lake lie the remains of a small community and the history of three families that helped settle the land dating back to the mid-1700’s. The irony that our trip to escape progress and harken back to a simpler time actually involved us floating over a town that was ultimately erased to make way for progress was not lost on me.

Back on land we enjoyed a little nap and then set about cooking our final campfire dinner. However, it seemed nature too was ready for the Vomacka’s to return home because thanks to severe storm warnings we rushed dinner and ended up with an epic fail of a dinner that was half undercooked and half overcooked. Thankfully, our wilderness contained a nearby pizza joint. With full bellies, weary bodies, and a long early day ahead of us we tucked in for our last night under the stars and just like that with a click, click, click of the heels and few chants of no place like home our Boondock Adventure had come to an end.

A dozen showers later.

I found myself reflecting on what I learned on our family adventure.

First, we are hooked on camping. Somewhere between the first sunset and the first sunrise we became believers and we are now looking for a few weekend adventures.

Next, without daily life’s distractions my husband and I were reminded that our children weren’t the only ones that needed to learn how to have a conversation. Of course, we talk about work, kids and what we want for dinner but the pleasure of simple conversation about nothing of real significance, now that was a real gift.

I also realized what an appalling amount of time we waste living in a wired world. With thumbs at rest and eyes up we saw a great big wild world out there and most importantly we saw each other. While I don’t see us going off grid completely, I do know our new camper will be paying us back much more than we’d ever hoped.

Gotta go I think I hear the phone ringing, Discovery is that you?

Until next time, Happy Camping.

My nemesis “The Shower”

My partner in battle

Home 2

Up hill battle

On July 3, 2014December 4, 2015 By Tanya Vomacka1 Comment

My competitive, well let’s just call it spirit, knows no bounds including limitations of age, gender, or actual capabilities.

So, when my 13-year-old son, Spencer, suggested we go mountain biking I thought why not. Scott was headed off to the nearest truck stop to wash a few of our, um, essentials. We clearly have room for improvement when it comes to packing for camping trips. When did I think I was going to wear white linen pants traipsing through the forest?

With a reluctant younger brother in tow off we went.

The mile walk downhill to get to the park bike rentals and start of trails caused no concern. After all, I am a runner and I used to bike a lot. I have done countless 100-mile (also called Century) bike rides, multi-day charity rides (which included tent camping) biked across the state of Montana (also tent camping) and my honeymoon was a hike and bike trip through Arizona and Utah (again tent camping). Admittedly, those biking adventures were pre-kids but how hard could it be I mean isn’t riding a bike as easy as, well, riding a bike?

After renting our extremely high- tech mountain bikes, look shock absorbers wonder what those are for? My confidence was boosted by the fact that ALL the trails were marked green meaning EASY in terms of difficulty level.

We, of course, set out on the longest trail because, duh, we are competitive.

Hold on, let’s pause here for a brief moment while I catch my breath.

I will give you one guess how mountain biking in Virginia is different than “mountain” biking in Florida. Yep, you guessed it Virginia actually has mountains. Florida has hilly dirt trails with cockroaches the size of Texas (but that’s another story.)

Not half way through the trail my chain derails mostly from me desperately looking for a low enough gear to get my well rounded back end up the mountain.

After fixing the chain and a brief argument with my sons that no I do not need to go back to the bike shop to let the “man” fix my bike (thankfully bike chains, even on high-tech bikes, haven’t changed all that much otherwise I would still be stuck half way up that mountain determined to prove my womanly independence to my teenage sons) I climbed back on my bike covered in bike grease but ready to tackle the mountain. Ten seconds later I stepped off my bike.

Panting and pushing my bike up the hill I glare at my son who had completed the trail and biked back just to “check on me” and managed to push out the words “gym” “when home” “no excuses.”

Finally, at the top of the mountain trail I looked down, way down, no I mean the trail went all the way down the mountain. I no longer wonder what my shock absorbers were for because the path down was riddled with tree roots and rocks. I am terrified. I look at Spencer, who is grinning from ear to ear and quickly attaching his GoPro to capture the descent. Then I look over at Dylan, who shakes his head from side to side to indicate an emphatic NO WAY and quietly begins to walk his bike downhill. I pause for a moment, contemplating my options, but I already know that I am walking down and I know I will regret it.

There was a time that I was fearless. Maybe not the base jumping, cliff diving, adrenaline junkie kind of fearless but the younger me would have flown down that mountain without hesitation. Where did that girl go? Am I really a cliche lost somewhere between diaper changes and braces? Or, is that fear now comes in a different form?

Maybe standing at the top of the mountain what I was really contemplating was the responsibility, along with my husband, of raising two teenage boys, while working my tail off for a career in a non-profit that will hopefully leave the world a little better somewhere in the future, all while carving out family time and maintaining a healthy marriage through financial hardships, career ups and downs and a myriad of other challenges that life throws our way to a backdrop of a constant barrage of news about every disaster imaginable, even in the remotest parts of the planet, all on my smart phone only seconds after happening. Or, maybe I am just a big chicken s#*! afraid of what would happen to my 40ish-year-old body should my descent wind up bottom over tea kettle.

Here’s what I do know. When it comes to my life, I am standing at the top of the mountain, looking down, way down, and without hesitation or contemplation I am holding on for dear life as I fly down the mountain and despite hitting some serious bumps along the way I know I will have no regrets.

Until next time, happy camping.

Things said in the wilderness, my new nemesis, family time and a challenge issued…

On June 30, 2014December 4, 2015 By Tanya VomackaLeave a comment

Say what?
Random guy to other random guys: You still choppin’ up them dead animals? [insert banjo music in the background here]

Random waitress: Y’all are from Florida? Well, why’d ya come here?

Me to park ranger: Do we have to watch out for bears?

Park Ranger to me: Nah, we haven’t had too many bears this season.

Me responding to park ranger (but with my inside voice): Wait, what do you mean by “not too many”? Please, don’t leave me I really need more detail!

Park Ranger to all of us: Avoid the skunks.

Me to me: Is it common for folks around these parts to not avoid them? Is this a thing? Like Hillbilly Hand-fishing? I did not see it on the Virginia Board of Tourism site.

Me to bike rental dude: How tough are the mountain biking trails out here?

Bike rental dude to me: Pretty easy just watch out for the sheer drop offs into the trees.

Me to everyone in the family: You must deal with your flatulence outside of the camper!

Every story needs a villain
Still fresh off my previous public shower trauma I find myself under attack once again. This time, it was a creepy-eat-your-face-off-horror movie-ninja-spider. Stealthily, hiding in the folds of the shower curtain waiting to reveal himself once I was at my most vulnerable. Rinse soap out of eyes and BAM there he was all hidden tiger crouching dragon ready to pounce. I mean, he actually never moved, but the point is he could have and probably would have, I think.

Public Showers 2 Tanya 0

Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide
At home, we have a house with rooms and televisions, and WiFi, and Netflix, and Apple TV, and really safe showers (just saying). It isn’t like we don’t spend time together as a family we make a point to do so, but the fact remains with the distractions of work, electronics, and the kids now teenagers with interests of their own quality time as a family is in shorter supply.

Family time was one of the main reasons we chose to buy the camper. No distractions, just family time and guess what? It is actually working. After a couple of days of bickering, the boys finally realized this was it – love and enjoy the ones you are with because you have no place to hide. The days are busy with adventures and the nights are filled with stargazing, epic Uno battles and serious belly laughs. Well, played mom and dad, well played.

Gentlemen, start your engines
We are a competitive family. It doesn’t matter if it is an outdoor activity, a household chore, or a game of Uno. Our family motto “Vomacka’s never give up!”

So, when a family pulled up next to us with a pop-up camper, I was anxious to see just how long it would take them to set up.

These folks were pros. They jumped out of the car with military precision while the dad yelled “the faster we set up the quicker you eat.” Like an Indy pit crew they all grabbed tools worked their magic and had everything set up in 25 minutes (Yes, I timed them. I told you we are competitive). I am sure they thought us very strange staring at them with our mouths agape with a look of wonder and a hint of jealousy in our eyes.

Challenge accepted strangers from the north, challenge accepted.

Naked and Afraid

On June 27, 2014December 4, 2015 By Tanya Vomacka1 Comment

Arriving at our campsite at 5 p.m. on Monday night left us with about 3 hours to set up camp, go into town for perishables, get the campfire going and dinner cooked before dark. In our practice run it only took about 45 minutes to set up and that included breaking the awning so we should be golden, right?

Wrong, several hours later we were still not finished and with everyone reaching critical levels of hangry (the point at which you surpass hungry loose all rational thought and go straight to angry land) Scott and Dylan headed to “town” to get some much-needed food.

Somewhere around midnight we finally had full bellies, our campsite setup, and some serious stargazing complete. Exhausted, we all crawled into our sleeping bags but for me sleep was elusive given my belief that every sound I heard was a “hangry” bear.

Happy to have not been eaten by a bear the next morning was filled with a spectacular sunrise over the mountains, blissful 63-degree weather and a campfire breakfast of bacon, eggs, and potatoes and peppers.

Please keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times we are now exiting the comfort zone.

Feeling like a bad ass pioneer girl I was now ready to tackle the public showers.

Okay, let me just make sure I have everything:

Shower shoes? Check
Soap? Check
Towel? Check
Change of clothes? Check
Inspect showers for any critters? Check and check

Lock shower door so old lady doesn’t walk in on me wearing nothing but my birthday suit and bright red Crocs?

Not checked.

Having scratched public nudity off my list, we headed to Luray Caverns where Dylan was not the least bit enthralled with the idea that we were headed 163 feet underground. I can’t really blame him though living in Florida if you find yourself that far underground then you’ve probably been swallowed by a sink hole. The day concluded with a late afternoon nap, sunset walk, and campfire s’mores.

Day two skipped morning shower in order to avoid running into my buddy again (even if she remembered nothing else the bright red Croc/nudity combo had to leave an impression).

After so much excitement packed into our previous day, we opted for a relaxing three-hour float down the Shenandoah River. Surrounded by the mountains and a cool breeze I could have easily drifted down the river fast asleep had I not noticed out of the corner of my eye that Dylan had suddenly picked up speed and started to move far too quickly ahead of the rest of us. Never one to panic Dylan simply sat upright in his tube and saluted us as he drifted away and yelled “Gentlemen, it has been an honor serving with you.” There goes, my baby! Wait, not a baby a twelve-year-old boy who needs my protection less and less every day and that’s a good thing. Right?

Day three, since our camp site was less than 90 minutes outside D.C. we made an impromptu decision to head to Stephan F. Udvar-Hazy Air & Space museum to check out the space shuttle and then to the National Mall for the what I am sure looked like a sequel to the a Griswold’s Grand Canyon tour.

My interest in space and flight mostly revolves around it working properly but seeing the space shuttle was definitely a bucket list item. Looking at this mammoth beast that was essentially exploded into space and returned safely not once but 39 times flying approximately 148,221,675 miles is a mind-blowing engineering marvel. The audacity it took to build it and fly it is an inspiring human marvel.

Speaking of marvels, the National Mall is certainly a testament to the human spirit and especially so close to Independence day. My husband’s father fought in Vietnam and sadly lost his best friend during that time. My husband is named after that friend and was overwhelmed with emotion as he looked at his namesake etched into the wall. I can’t say what brought on the emotions perhaps it was a mixture of gratitude for a sacrifice made by a man he’s never met or a connection to a part of his father’s life he’s never really known or the realization of how close he came to never being.

I am always moved by the way in which we humans push boundaries and face fears large and small. Whether it is friends fighting for survival, astronauts exploring the universe or families trying something new together.

Everyone feels a little naked and afraid when trying something new (for me it was both literal and figurative) it is what waits on other side that makes it all worthwhile? So, go get naked! Eww, put your clothes back on, I meant it metaphorically.

Until next time Happy Camping.

Oh, and just in case you are in the area here are a few recommendations:

Shenandoah River State Park – We feel extraordinarily lucky our first run at “roughing it” was here. The Rangers were attentive but not intrusive. The campsites were very well kept and the bathrooms and showers were spotless. Each site was nicely tucked away so we did not feel like we were right on top of our neighbors.

Eats – If you want a life-changing sandwich stop at West Main Market in Luray, Virginia. Then swing by the a Gathering Grounds for delicious coffee and desserts the size of your face.

Just because – If you’re so inclined you might want to kick in a few bucks to help the Page theater convert to digital. Theaters across the nation including the IMAX Dome Theater located at the Museum of Science & Industry, where I spend my non-vacationing hours, because of the expense to print on film most studios are only using digital formats. This means tiny family owned and operated and museum nonprofit theaters across the country will need to spend hundreds of thousands to millions to continue showing movies.

Are we there yet?

On June 23, 2014December 4, 2015 By Tanya Vomacka1 Comment

“Mom, have you ever been so bored that when you look out of the car window and stare up at the clouds you see Massachusetts?” – Spencer, age 13

Did I mention I hate road trips? Anyone who has been in a car with me for over an hour is well aware. To road trip with me is to love me. No, seriously you must love me or at least like me a lot because it is the only way I can be assured you won’t push me out of the vehicle barreling down the highway (threats have been made).

I blame my parents. Don’t we all. What happened you ask? Were my parents gypsy’s that traveled from place to place grifting innocent townspeople? Or, did they lock me in the trunk to keep me from telling the police who they really were and what they were really carrying in their luggage? No, it was so much worse.

They took me to Iowa.

I know. Awful, right? Take a moment to collect yourself.

Year after year of 22-hour car trips with my poor father searching for some secret passageway to get us there without going through Indiana. Love the Hoosiers but driving through Indiana is like being stuck in the lobotomized mind of the most boring person in the world.

When I have kids, we will fly everywhere and visit only exotic locations in foreign lands is the promise I made to my teenage self. Actually, I probably just made several loud sighs and rolled my eyes but you get the gist.

The funny thing is when I look back now as an adult and as a parent I can’t recall what was so awful (except the drive through Indiana nothing to be done about that).

In fact, as it turns out those road trips actually helped shaped many parts of who I am today and taught a few valuable lessons.

I learned boredom is simply a circumstance and that with imagination there is no circumstance in which one is bored.

Road trips helped to cultivate my ferocious love of books and why still today I look forward to vacations simply for the luxury of uninterrupted reading.

I learned everyone has a story and every story is interesting if you just listen. Like the farmers talking about their crops or town politics while having coffee on a rainy morning at The Little Red Hen House restaurant just outside of Indiana.

I learned to have a conversation. In case, you aren’t aware teenage girls talk, a lot. Much like a predator needs prey to define them a teenage girl needs to talk. So, with only my parents to talk to and my very existence on the line I did the unthinkable – spoke to my parents. With equal interest, we talked about Barbies, my favorite music groups, politics, social matters, and how much we hated driving through Indiana. We talked to each other not as parent to child but as people and from that I learned the difference between talking and having a conversation.

Perhaps, traveling with my husband and children I will learn that life is so much more than the destination but what you experience along the way and come to love road trips.

I won’t lie there are still moments that I look out the car window and stare up at the clouds and see Massachusetts but if you think about it taking a moment to stop, look to the sky, and imagine seems pretty worthwhile to me.