During my three years of RV-ing full-time and several years of frequently camping before that, I encountered all sorts of crazy conditions. From below-freezing temperatures to nonstop rain, wildlife encounters, mechanical breakdowns, and madmen on the loose, I thought I had pretty much seen it all from either inside my tent or out the window of my tiny home on wheels.
But then, I decided to take my two-month-old baby camping, and that overconfidence quickly got shattered and the great outdoors felt a little less familiar. Here’s what happened the first time I introduced my tiny human to the world of camping, which ironically coincided with my first time camping during the pandemic.
The Trip
For Chikoo’s (a nickname, not his real name) first camping trip, we wanted to keep it simple and close to home. So, we booked a campsite in the Grants area of New Mexico, which was about an hour and a half away from home and a place we hadn’t spent much time in before.
Due to COVID-19, travel is sketchy right now to say the least. Any trip outside the home feels like a calculated risk and a balancing act between staying safe and stay sane, especially as a first-time mom of a tiny human with a developing immune system. Yet going on a trip in our own RV where we could use our own kitchen and bathroom felt safer than any other option at the moment. So, we just went with it and took out the good ole’ RV for a couple random weekdays to avoid weekend crowds.
Packing for a Baby
Between my husband and I, I’ve always been the packer for our trips. I have list templates for each kind of trip we take and usually start laying stuff out about a week in advance because I hate scrambling around at the last minute and always end up forgetting something important otherwise. But this was my first time ever packing for a baby.
Even after moving from an RV to a house, I’ve still stayed pretty minimalist with the amount of stuff I have, even with a newborn in the mix. But to accommodate the little guy on-the-go, we recently bought a fold-up travel crib that ended up working really well in the RV. In fact, he slept better in there than in the house and set a personal record of 4.5 hours of straight snoozing! For my first time packing for a baby, I definitely over-packed. But there was plenty of space in our former home-on-wheels, so there wasn’t much harm in having a few extra diapers and drool rags lying around.
Baby-ifying the RV
Little Chikoo isn’t mobile yet (unless you count his non-stop wiggling and kicking) so we haven’t had to truly baby-proof the camper yet. However, for a two-month old, we still did have to make some adjustments to our RV setup to accommodate the little guy.
This involved turning the sofa into a travel crib spot, the workdesk/dinette into a diaper changing station, and the top bunk bed into a storage area for baby gear and breastmilk pumping supplies. Of course, Monkey got to keep her bed on the lower bunk bed and continues to be an awesome big sister to little Chikoo.
Slowing Down the Pace
The main difference I noticed between my old camper life days and camping with a baby was the pace of travel. I quickly realized that I had to scale back my expectations of what we could seriously accomplish in a day and that I’d have to be more flexible around Chikoo’s needs – namely his demanding to eat about every two hours.
Pre-baby, the husband and I would have powered through a hike, checked out all a small town’s local attractions, and drank at two breweries by early afternoon. However, little things now like needing to stop and feed Chikoo along the trail gave us some awesome opportunities to take in the views, give a panting Monkey some much-needed shade, and just let the fact sink in that we are starting to introduce this strange and wonderful creature we made to the great outdoors.
Planning for Downtime
Part of slowing down the pace of travel involved scheduling in downtime at our campground and not spending the entire day out and about. Being out every moment of day was a bit too much for this little guy (and for us with him in tow!), so we spent more time than usual in the campground just chilling out. Being near El Malpais National Monument meant that we had some sweet lava rock landscape views from under the camper awning for a little shade from all that New Mexico sunshine.
Baby’s First 5-Mile Hike
But even with a slower pace and scheduled-in breaks, I’m happy to report that Chikoo did his first five-mile hike on this camping trip! By “hike,” I mean he rode in a front-facing carrier as the husband wore him on the hiking trail.
Our big hike was on a portion of the Continental Divide Trail that wasn’t overly challenging but still really beautiful and interesting to check out. Chikoo was super chill pretty much the whole time until it was time for a snack. However, poor Monkey got bit on the paw by something (spider? ant?) and was limping for a while until my tough gal worked it out and fixed herself back up again.
Our second hike the next day was to the Bandera Volcano and ice cave, which was a little shorter but still a pretty unique and dog-friendly place to check out on an uncrowded weekday morning. We wore masks everywhere we went, including on the hiking trails, just to feel as safe as possible. In my opinion, New Mexico has done a better job than a lot of states at controlling the spread of the virus, which makes me happy to live here. However, this particular area of the state seems to be known for its lack of compliance with public health orders, and even the mayor of Grants is now facing a $5,000 fine for hosting a 4th of July parade.
Avoiding Other People
As a pandemic baby, Chikoo isn’t getting the kind of socialization with family and friends that most babies have by this point in life. While we have been going stir-crazy quarantined at home, we intentionally chose a not-too-touristy destination, traveled on a Sunday-Tuesday rather than a weekend, and brought our own food and bathroom supplies to minimize contact with other people.
Fortunately, after over three years of full-time RVing, one of my greatest acquired skills is avoiding other people in campgrounds. Feeling claustrophobic and being bombarded by strangers at all times was one of my least favorite things about full-time camper life, especially towards the end of it. This skill came in handy now more than ever.
Although our campground got more crowded than I was expecting, people generally kept their distance from each other and most resisted the urge to hover over the most adorable baby of all time. This is about the only silver lining to the pandemic that I can think of right now, but I’ll take it.
What’s Next?
Although there were definitely ups and downs, I’m calling Chikoo’s first camping trip an overwhelming success…so much so that we’ve already booked his second camping trip in less than two weeks!
We’re planning to check out the Ruidoso area of New Mexico, a region that we have yet to explore as residents here. Not only will this be an exciting trip because it’s a new place but also because of another BIG CHANGE, which I’ll reveal in my next post!
Until then…stay as cool as this dude, who clearly has camping in his DNA.
Kilbourne Hole is a maar (i.e. a pit/depression caused by a volcanic explosion) in Doña Ana County and a remnant of a volcanic explosion that dates back an estimated 100,000 years. Today it’s a National Natural Landmark on BLM land and known for the unique minerals that surfaced after the eruption. The crater measures just 1.7 miles long by over a mile across, but it’s hundreds of feet deep.
Although I was skeptical about actually finding rocks worth anything, only a few minutes passed before we started seeing green and yellow gems glimmering in the sunlight. This area is open to the public and there are no regulations about removing any rocks from the site as long as you can maneuver the crazy roads to take them back to wherever you came from. 
Along the road to get here and at the crater site, I never saw a single other person or car. The only signs of life out here were a few stray cows and a desert flower or two.
But what was really fun about this adventure for me is that we actually found my August birthstone here, peridot! Some of the stones were scattered loosely, likely someone else’s scraps from a previous collection. But others were hidden deep inside unassuming dark rocks strewn about and required a good smash to reveal the shiny stuff inside. 
We brought a couple handfuls of peridot-encrusted rocks back home with us and have begun to separate the gems from the rock parts. It’s tedious, but how fun would it be to create a piece of jewelry someday with my birthstone gem that I “mined” for along the U.S.-Mexico border! 
Hiking the white sands of New Mexico really is unlike hiking anywhere else. It’s vast, desolate, windswept, and mysterious. And since the dunes are formed by gypsum, the sand is surprisingly cool-to-the-touch, even on scorching hot days.
These dunes in the Tularosa Basin were explored by Native Americans, exploited by Spanish explorers in pursuit of resources, and used by the U.S. military for missile testing. They’ve really been through a lot but are in amazingly preserved condition. 
As we set on out the 
There’s no shade or water along this trail, or anywhere out in the dunes, but thankfully there are helpful little orange and white posts to let you know you’re on the right path. Reduced visibility and getting lost are total possibilities out here, especially in the high-winds of the spring season.
About halfway through the hike, you’ll reach the flat section that has a really creepy vibe to it. The Alkali Flat is the dry lake-bed of Lake Otero, which filled the bottom of the Tularosa Basin during the last ice age and covered a massive1,600 square miles. 
Although she was just as covered in sand from head to toe as we were, Monkey was a really trooper and truly seemed to really enjoy the soft, cool texture for the most part. When overly excited, she “twirls” and “dances,” which escalates to the highest degree on sandy beaches and even dunes like these.
From the trailhead, it felt like a long hike just to get to the base of the mountains, and it was a steady, moderate climb from there. I saw quite a few wildflowers and mysterious yellow berries in the shrubs along this trail, which took my mind off the rising temperatures and bright sun beating down.
This is when Monkey really proved her resilience here because I’m pretty sure she got a spider bite and was a real champ about it. She’s a very quiet dog that rarely makes a sound at anything, but I heard a tiny yelp and saw her frantically pawing at herself and starting to roll around on the ground. Then I noticed a spider on her paw and brushed it off. I can’t be sure that the spider caused the ruckus, but there was no other explanation in sight.
We chose the route that led to Castle Rock, because well, that seems majestic enough right? The route was pretty steep and actually one of the more strenuous ones we’ve done in a while.
The approach to Castle Rock, which was an impressive exposed rock outcropping, involved scrambling up boulders and teaching Monkey the basics of rock climbing. She has a crazy amount of stamina, a severe lack of patience, and an obsession with all creatures from lizards to squirrels. But despite her little personality quirks, she proved to be a pretty solid rock climber.
We nearly made it two miles and then had a work emergency and had to turn back to retrieve laptops from the campground and settle things. These types of emergencies don’t happen often, but when they do, unfortunately hiking has to take a backseat to the day jobs.
This was a pretty rugged hiking area with downed dead trees and few trail markings. The trails were sandy, and my feet sunk in a bit with every step to make that 1.85 miles feel a bit more challenging than it really was.
There are tons of shops around the plaza, most of them out of budget but nice to look at anyway. I love the architecture in Santa Fe, which was surprisingly consistent in the churches, shops, restaurants, and homes in the local neighborhoods.
A lot of things appealed to me about the southwest: the laid-back atmosphere, the weather, the outdoorsy-ness, the artsy-ness, the lack of traffic, the abundance of good hair days. However, one thing left me a bit unsettled.
The railyard was declared a blighted area in the late 1980s and started undergoing serious redevelopment. Today this area is home to a popular farmer’s market, arts and cultural organizations, shops, art galleries, and restaurants.
I definitely enjoyed the displays of miniatures and flamenco culture. Museums are a great place to soak up some solo time, especially if you like looking at certain things more than others or like browsing at your own pace.
But something unexpected at the museum campus was an extensive set of hiking trails! What started as a crappy day actually turned out to be a pretty nice one. So when my museum turn was over, I took Monkey out behind the museums to do some hiking.
The trails were pretty flat, but winding and not marked. I found it surprisingly easy to get lost (as my directionally challenged self usually does), but eventually found my way back to the Jeep before the storm clouds rolled back in.
