Travel Review: Backpacking Southern California, San Diego County

Contents

  • Travel Location; Country, etc.
  • Photos;
  • Overall Review of the Trip and Travel Agency;
  • Overall Review of Attractions, Accommodations, and, Restaurants;
  • Most Enjoyable and/or Memorable Moments;
  • If Trip were Taken Again, What Would I Do Differently;
The SD/TJ Border from San Ysidro.

San Diego County, California, United States of America (“SoCal”)

Photos

Overall Review of the Trip and Travel Agency:

No travel agency. No Bookings. No AirBnB. Not even Couchsurfing. No Uber, no Lyft, and, except for those really risky situations, no thumb extended into the road.

I set across the southwest from El Paso, TX not only as a miniature vacation for myself, because everything is a dumpster fire in the United States, but also as a touch upon doing whatever I could manage to do as a broke, single, lone, white trans female Millennial under 25. Because while the entirety of the United States is, more or less, a hot steaming pile of Buffalo Patties at this current moment in history, there are people who have suffered great distances, losses, and disappointments, especially upon arriving here, in order to escape, possibly, somehow, worse conditions. And here I was thinking I would just travel and self-educate while finding temporary work along the way in order to maintain a consistent digitally nomadic lifestyle that attempts to seek out news and other ways to add positive realism to the environment of information today which is widely propaganda alone. How privileged!

If I were a vacationing me, vacationing through the southwest using this vacation service ran by me on vacation, well, it wouldn’t be much of a vacation at all. Typically, someone or some organization that plans vacations for vacationers, would plan, well, I don’t know, vacation stuff. Things such as the vacation’s attractions, the vacation’s accommodations, and the vacation’s restaurants are usually planned out well in advance of said, multiple times, vacation.

While, yes, I did find myself some attractions along the way, and many photo opportunities with birds and beautiful flowers, these were completely unplanned. In fact, to be clear, nothing was planned at all. The only thing that was planned, was practice, self-discipline, and that p-word, that means you don’t give up, and instead of being honest with yourself about the magnitude of the undertaking, you risk your own undertaking to be that s-word.

Oh yeah, persistence. And, stubborn. Or if you prefer: Pointless, and, Stupid.

But hey, if I were a vacation planning organization in and of myself, while also on vacation, without overhead, or the funds to cover any head-over-water situations, to be fair, I didn’t do too badly by selecting myself as my vacation planner for my vacation. Because as I said, I’m more broke than the political system of the United States of America.

So that in mind: Great job! Would… not select this vacation planning organization, which is just me, under it’s current management, which is just me, or it’s current management style, which is just me. And if you know me, you know, I don’t have style. Also, if you disagree with that last sentence, thank you, I love you, please shower me in similar or further endearing compliments, I like that, it makes me feel warm — oh wait, that’s the desert, anyway — that’s great, please comment that compliment in a complementary comment below these comments. Thanks!

So yeah, great job, me. I set out to do a thing, and you know what? I did it! And I didn’t die!

Desert. Highways. Junkies. Animals. Mother nature. And random acts of fear, loathing, and violence. All of these things, and I didn’t get fleas, mosquito bites, amoebas, leeches, lions, tigers, bears, gila monsters, rattlesnakes, scorpions, or jackalopes. Coincidentally, I also didn’t get sick, I didn’t run out of my oral hormone replacement medication, and I didn’t think about suicide, much.

I’m still alive. Unharmed. Not attacked. Not assaulted. And aside from a few shitty white bros driving by, wasn’t even harassed. Wow! Am I lucky? Have I really been blessed by God? Is there some relative, deceased, and just bored enough to watch out for my dumb ass? No.

The truth is, this shows more that I’m privileged. Privileged enough to feel some sort of comfort in this racist nation, and yes it is, don’t fight me on this, we’re still dealing with our own original sin of slavery while the world grapples with the nationalist, separatist, and altogether common issue of identity and its politics. And privileged enough to pass through a country that straight up attacks and murders people of color, because I’m pretty freaking white for a half-Puerto Rican with blue eyes, and yeah, English is my first language.

So as far as vacation planners go, I did pretty well, vacationing through my vacation service which was just me on vacation. Because while most of the accommodations were national parks and few and far between friends’ pads, and restaurants were grocery store produce departments, McDonald’s’s, Taco Bells, Circle K’s, and the rare, and most definitely unplanned, vegan restaurants, and, attractions were just “oooo pretty flower,” I did pretty well with myself as a vacation planning service for myself. And here’s why:

I’m fairly attractive, or so I’ve been told, even by normative standards, let alone the standards my trans community struggles to uphold for itself as a way to respect everyone in their transition in a country, and maybe frankly, world, that does not make it at all easy to live as a transgender individual. So that helped a lot in just passing under the radar. Pun intended.

Not only that, but because we value and make so many assumptions about attractive people, there was rarely a doubt or concern from anyone that I had met. Not about safety, besides being assaulted, or attacked by animals, but rarely ever a blink of an eye at financial needs, friendship, or anything like that.

To be honest, safety and basic needs aside, I was asked far more often about my sexuality and presumed need for companionship. Presumed, because I’ve always felt quite alone, and the open road, was actually a really welcome distraction from my anxiety, depression, and fears of being alone forever. Yeah, I’m totally okay with being alone by choice, than being randomly alone. Not too different from how Americans would rather risk their lives for some, even banal, reason, rather than die randomly without cause.

TL;DR: I did well in selecting myself for the services created by myself in order to be provided to myself. I would rate myself, a solid, and totally fair, 9.9/10. I would not recommend these services at this time, but as the service provider also suggest paying me a large lump some before hand, and deny my own non-recommendation as I recommend that everyone try my services at an exorbitant and astronomically ridiculous cost.

Overall Review of Trip’s Attractions, Accommodations, and, Restaurants

Attractions of note here include: the ocean, Mt. Soledad, flowers, hummingbirds, roadrunners, Saguaros, and many many sunsets. Oh, and the Border. The Border multiple times. That was… awful and depressing, but mostly boring. It’s… for the edginess: a Wall. Boring. 2/10

Accommodations, such as my sleeping bag, which I only purchased while passing through Tucson, trees and large bushes, as well as beautiful sandy beaches and breezy deserts under the starry Arizona skies, were undoubtedly remarkable. In fact, this was probably the most beautiful part of the entire experience, in addition to seeing firsthand the decency of strangers. Not to be confused with those moments when I saw the indecency of strangers. It would be offensive to pigs to call these people pigs… 8/10

Restaurants… Did I not cover this embarassing fact enough already? I’m vegan, so maybe I wasn’t clear. I ate coffee, coffee, and more coffee, when I got to California. I stopped at a couple places that were more than accommodating such as Craft Burrito Co. in Del Mar, CA, and the Daily Jam. I recommend both.

However, if you’re vegan and broke, but still can somehow manage to spend greater than or equal to $5 a day on a small meal in between fasts, I do not recommend McDonald’s, but… wait for it, Taco Bell. Their order kiosks are easy to use and the prices stay about the same everywhere, so you can always order that bomb ass burrito with black beans, rice, and veggies for under $2. Stop at grocery stores and buy emergency Larabars for under $5, at most notably, Walmarts, and on the third day, buy a gallon of water. Fast your ass off, lose over 20 lbs like I did, and wow, a vacation that you get a tan and toned body from. Fantastic!

Now if you’re a coffee fiend, you’r in luck! Most local cafes have free refills, because they rule. However, McDonald’s also does this. Starbucks on the other hand, where you would pay about $2.75 for a large, or venti, coffee, charges $0.50 per refill. Great WiFi tho!

Finally, if you’re just too broke to afford food and too American to stand fasting, or, morals, but have a phone that lacks only the data well here’s a pro-tip: Find a Food Pantry or Food Bank! Can’t find one? Well, you, with the lack of ethical fortitude to simply fast instead, are in luck. Hospitals stand by a “do no harm” Hippocratic Oath, and most acknowledge that if you look homeless, calling the cops on you for “borrowing” food from the cafeteria would do more harm than good. So yeah, why volunteer on a farm and learn valuable skills in exchange for food, when you could just grift it.

Above that shit? Even better! Subway always has that bread and rarely ruins it with broiler grease like Burger King, and from my observations, you know, just passing by, they look to often keep their dumpsters unlocked. So check that out. Good luck being your own vacation planning service, although I recommend just using my own choice service: my own service… once it’s in service. 4/10

Most Enjoyable and/or Memorable Moments

While I met a lot of incredible people, sometimes literally incredible, the most memorable and enjoyable moments of my trip were those I managed to capture in photographs, seen above. As for the memorable, well, those were rocked by the people I met along the way. To respect them, I’ll leave this section at that; check out the above photo gallery.

If I were to take this trip again, this is what I would have done differently, and why:

If I were to take this trip again, I would get a few friends together and go by vehicle, either car, RV, or bus. I would certainly still choose to sleep outside under the stars, but once in a while use Bookings.com and share a room with my friends. Then we would probably follow the Pacific Coast Highway 101 all the way up the coast, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and then cut into the state towards Weed and up to Portland, Oregon, and Seattle, Washington, being sure to hit every trail along the way.

Yuma, AZ — Live Fast, Help People.

I have to write this quickly because I want to go to my next place to volunteer —

It’s not always easy to tell if what you’re doing is the right thing. This is especially true if it’s something unusual or abnormal. And walking 200+ miles to volunteer to help other people who have very little in terms of familiarity or common culture is one of those things.

Because of this, I wasn’t sure if I was exactly doing the right thing.

That was until this morning when I had met with American Red Cross leadership in Yuma. A regional director by the name of Jack was visiting. He was the first to remind me that what I was doing was important and amazingly unusual.

That was one reaction. The local director’s was something entirely more surprising. Tom, AKA Batman — lol I know — was recently in El Paso, Texas. He lit up and thanked me for stepping up, and going hundreds of miles beyond that. His praise uplifted and drove my day with renewed vigor.

After that encounter with optimism, I knew that I was, without a doubt, on the right path.

So with my pack still in tow, I hopped along towards the Yuma Community Food Bank.


When I had arrived to begin my first day of volunteering, I was outpouring positive energy and vibes.

“You didn’t know that was me this morning, huh?” Or something to that effect.

The volunteer coordinator, was a really kind woman — we’ll call her Annie, to respect her privacy. I hadn’t, for a number of reasons, recognized her though.

For one, when people call out from their vehicles I’m not the most receptive. Secondly, I was wearing my “beat-up sunglasses.” And most importantly, this was at 7 this morning, before I had had any coffee!

Most people don’t even get out of bed in the morning for less than a dollar, yet I walked hundreds of miles and with a seemingly endless supply of energy, put together meal kits for families and lifted heavy boxes of produce. It still wasn’t enough though. We helped hundreds of people, but I knew my mission couldn’t stop there.


I’m picking up WiFi to write this before moving on to my next location to volunteer.


I had recently called the Salvation Army Social Services of Yuma, after the five hour day volunteering. I, colloquially, call them Salvo.

Tonight, I’ll most likely be spending all night at the shelter set up by Salvo. The same shelter being logistically managed by the Red Cross, according to Batman, and fed by the Yuma Community Food Bank.

Batman had mentioned that they needed volunteers desperately, but I hadn’t completely believed it until I heard it in the voice of the coordinator on the other line.


It won’t be my first time volunteering with a shelter. When I lived in New York, in my hometown of Port Jervis, I volunteered with the organization Empowering Port Jervis and I was able to find time in my schedule to spend the night at the shelter.

This time may be very different, but hopefully it’ll be an educational experience more than a stressful one. I’m excited to help, but on a personal note, I’m sure I should find a place to trade out my clothes. Can’t volunteer without looking fresh right? We’ll see. 😅


This is the point in my article where I reiterate that these organizations need volunteers.

There’s always another adventure just around the river bend. For me, this leg of that adventure will end in July when the Arizona summer heat will be closer to a hundred and twenty degrees Fahrenheit (120°F). That’s when I’ll be returning to my trail onwards towards the cool ocean breeze of San Diego, California. I can’t backpack in that weather and volunteer at the same time, but maybe you’re not backpacking, and maybe you can find the free time.

Please try to.

Why Can’t Beggars Be Choosers?

To be clear, I don’t consider myself homeless. Yes, I’m a digital nomad, don’t know where exactly I’d call home, don’t own anything larger than can fit in my bag, and am riding the poverty line like a mechanic bull, but I don’t consider myself homeless. I’m a digital nomad.

The world is my home. So right now I’m just exploring the other rooms to see what my roommates have done with the place. I don’t have much but what I do have is outweighed by my hope that my home can be an open house filled with friends that care for friends of friends of friends of Kevin Bacon.

So as I was been walking, taking photos, what cash I’ve had, I’ve given to the homeless. There hasn’t been many, at least not until I got to the Phoenix metro area, so when I finally ran into someone with a sign that read, “hungry,” I’ll be the first to admit that I was judgemental.

America creates a lot of food waste. I’m vegan. There’s better places to post-up for change.

All these things swirled in my mind, until I stopped them and took a good inventory of them. It also helped that I watched a young couple of color not only go up to the man and eventually take him out for lunch, but they spent a good amount of time with him.

This made me stop and reflect deeper. I’ll admit, I was ashamed that I had thought about someone else’s position from the standpoint of my own. This person doesn’t have to be vegan, although I believe it’s a healthier and more spiritually enlightening diet. Maybe he was allergic! Maybe he didn’t want to be that guy digging through the freegan section for a half eaten burger. I mean, really Brienna. I was hoping to make up for those thoughts with what change I had left when that nice couple took the man away. Now I had no way to atone for the thoughts that stopped me from helping that man.

With another mile behind me, I came across an older man of color, a veteran, in a wheelchair. Hallelujah, I could repent! I gave him my change intended for the previous man and felt better, but not completely.

I walked another mile. By the freeway stood a man beat red from the sun with only a sign and a bag. I had no change now. I was begging for another way to help this man on the side of the freeway.

I had water.

“Would you like a water?”

The man seemed surprised. Too often people can’t stomach the effort to dig a little deeper in their wallets for change. How many of them had water and didn’t even offer him such a vital resource. The eagerness of his nodding was the answer.

Finally, I had really felt a sense of atonement. It made me question what it meant to help other people. Perhaps I could have asked the Hungry Man if he knew how to fast. Perhaps I could have taught him something that would have helped him. Or perhaps he was as thirsty as the Thirsty Man.

So why can’t beggars be choosers? Because helpers need to be better askers. Asking how you can help someone is far better than imposing your version of helping onto others. If I could go back in time, I would have walked up to that man and asked, do you like Taco Bell? I would’ve found a way for us to split a vegan plate of nachos, loaded with protein.

Why can’t beggars be choosers? When I’m walking and people read me as a homeless person, they offer me things. Beggars must be choosers. I wouldn’t accept a ride from a single male or group of men. I wouldn’t take up space at a soup kitchen or other service that belongs to someone in need. I wouldn’t accept a plate of meat from someone because I’m hungry. I wouldn’t spend the night with a stranger. And I certainly am not interested in giving you head or an old fashioned.

Choice is important. Choice, even though we can’t always control where it comes from or know the causality that brings us the option, is freedom. To say that “beggars can’t be choosers” is to say that along with not having much in the way of possessions, wealth, or food, that someone in such a position should have no freedom as well.

Coming to that conclusion gave me pause. Who would want to take someone else’s freedom away? Surely there’s a minority of people with their own predelictions to this end but I have hope that the 99%, the great majority of not only Americans, but the world, feels this way.

At least that’s the sense I get. Education, culture, tradition, etc., aside; does this seem true to you too?

Borderline Humanitarian Crisis

Hey folks!

Earlier this month, I set out on foot from El Paso, TX. The goal was to document the length of the southwest border and through photography of the environment, region, and relevant images, raise money for humanitarian causes.

Today, on Facebook, I started a direct donation button to my personal page to this end. The button is for the Texas RioGrande Legal Aide (TRLA), which is helping represent migrants affected by what has become a humanitarian crisis, abuse, at the border.

On April 30th, it will be Mexico’s Children’s Day. This is a reminder for us to make a drastic change in our treatment of people at the border, and most importantly those children seeking asylum.

If you can’t directly support TRLA through the link in my Facebook page or are unable to do so here, please consider sharing my photography project.

I began the project on March 16th, and am calling it Open Borders. The photos are for sale at my eponymous gallery on 500px. All, 100%, of proceeds from any photo purchases made during the month of April will be donated to the following organizations:

Thank you for caring about this issue.

3/29 Update: Halfway to San Diego, CA to photograph the Tijuana border. After that heading north for a short personal photowalk before heading back towards the Rio Grande border.

Here’s a sneak-peek into the gallery while you’re here:

Wanna Talk About Nuts? Let’s get nuts:

“That’s crazy!”

They always reply the same when I tell them that I’ve been walking since El Paso, TX.

However, this response makes me stop and think; is crazy not doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?

Walking across America is far from doing the same thing over and over again. Each mile, unless you’ve walked it before, is a new one; each flower, insect, bird, animal, and person, is new; every photo or conversation from it, is fresh.

Nothing is done over and over again when you do it this way. The people, the places, the languages. All of it changes with each hectare.

In this way alone, it isn’t crazy to do. Besides, people work day-in, day-out, drink, eat, and sleep, relatively the same each and every day. A great many may wrongly expect that they’re secure in this routine.

Yet, if one were to ask almost anyone in America today, if their home, family, and employment, are secure without a doubt the response would be: “no.” The insecurity is obvious when passing through any town and city. So how many would say that they’re safe from the inequity of the American economic system? Again, none.

These questions don’t need to be answered; we see today that mental health, gone without care, is as detrimental as cigarettes. Depression grows rampant in every community but the statistics are harder pressed to those struggling with income, housing, or friendships. And to this last point, we find ourselves less surrounded by friends, and more surrounded by faces and followers; more alone than ever as our world focuses on polarization.

So what’s really crazy? Reading the horrors of reality online and doing nothing, hoping that it will be proven false, or magically resolved? Maybe even, ignoring or shutting out these facts?

Or is it crazier to attempt reducing one’s need for the goods or services aggravating these issues while searching for another way through? While documenting what’s still here. While searching for solutions. While limiting opportunity to be a perpetrator of accidental harm.

I obviously chose the latter. It seemed less crazy to try something new, something scary, and try to be a better, more self-reliant person. Especially compared to the insecurity of today, it seemed like the sensible choice compared to doing the same thing over and over again.

Here, I want to point out what’s really crazy, who’s perpetrating the insanity, and how we can collectively see to our mental health, metaphorically, as well as in the most absolute reality.

When they say “that’s crazy,” I’ll be sure to hold up a mirror before replying: “Perhaps, but how much compared to what you see here?”

Down a Dark, Desert Highway

The highway is dark, barely illuminated by the waxing gibous moon as I walk it alone. In the distance, coyotes howl. My pace picks up as the hungry cries grow louder, nearer. This was the last time that I would be caught on a dark road in Texas by myself.

“Why are you doing this?”

Most people would be wondering, “what made you leave wherever you were and endanger yourself?” These aren’t the people straddled with debt and soft skills, of course, they have families, homes, and property. They have a life somewhere, and wouldn’t immediately understand seeking life in the world and outside of these bubbles.

Our bubbles are the most separating piece of our lives. It informs our politics, our religions, and our relations. Some linguists, such as those familiar with Sapir-Whorf would even venture to say that their language and culture not only creates this bubble, but strengthens it.

We see this happening in politics and religion most clearly now, and especially as populist nationalism grows around the world. This sort of tribalism can make any place dangerous for what can be deemed other. Couple this with the neverending stream of missing or murdered backpackers, and it can be quite clear why people ask me in such shock, “why are you doing this?”

I’ve always felt like other. With fill, with friends, in school, in church; you get the picture. That was before I began to transition too. So now that I’m openly trans, 25, very left-of-center, and whatever else may set me apart, I’m finally finding peace in being or feeling so different.

There’s something about feeling hundreds of miles under your feet. Something about backpack tan lines. Reusing rainwater. Eating what grows from the earth. Falling asleep beneath only the stars. There’s something to this kind of freedom.

This kind of freedom doesn’t have a bubble. You learn people are mostly good and that they all want to be loved. You learn that everyone you ever met was key to who you are today.

People can change over time, because with enough patience and kindness, their bubble gets worked around new ideas. That doesn’t mean I try to change anyone. In fact, I do just the opposite, I try only to understand their views.

“What if plants had feelings?”

Not to say that I didn’t try in the beginning. Tell me the Earth is 10,000 years old, climate change is made up, and that we should be okay with eating animal people because “what if plants had feelings,” and you could of easily gotten my goat.

Now I only listen. I don’t just soak it in though. I get acquainted with their logic. I try to understand which directions peoples’ hearts are taking them.

“What is freedom?”

I want to be able to see the world safely. Who doesn’t? So the most important thing to do first, is research.

I did my research before travelling, but if you’re staying in the United States, the best research you can do is ongoing: interviewing people about their opinions, views, beliefs, and whatever else drives their decisions.

Ultimately, we all have immense power, whether that’s as a creator, as a family unit, as an individual, as a voter, or as a congregation, or something else, our words, actions, and decisions all have lasting impacts.

So I set out from El Paso, TX to complete my trek to the Pacific as a photojournalist. Taking photos as I go, prepared for whatever event or situation may arise to be documented, I ask decision-makers, individuals: what is freedom?