Before we go global, we’re keeping it local. California Love. Tupac was on to something. Since quitting our jobs 4 weeks ago, we’re sleeping around…at some of the best campsites in this golden state: Mount Shasta, Big Sur, Joshua Tree, and Angel Island. These mini trips also helped us test out all our camping gear which will be our home on the roam the first few months.

Our first trip was up to Mount Shasta. Truth be told, it’s quite the long drive, but worth it in the end. Especially if you can go for more than just two days. We rented an adorable ranger cabin in the Shasta-Trinity National Forest. It was quaint, with a tinge of “I hope I don’t get murdered in the woods” feel.

Like any good travel story, comes a travel plot twist. We got lost. Like for real. And had zero service. Roaming lesson number one, don’t rely on Google Maps when in the woods. We got up to “near the cabin” right before dark. Google Maps told us where the cabin was, and we believed it. Suckers. “You have arrived at your destination.” Bueller? Maybe the cabin is invisible? We drove a bit more. Nothing. So we went back to the “main” road. Found a house and Craig went up to ask if they knew where this ranger station was located. Enter Dennis (from the town of Peanut, yes, Peanut). The cutest little man ever with a big trusting heart. He had zero clue where the cabin was, but told us we were welcome to pitch our tent in his front yard. Before we imposed, we zipped to the nearest town to see if the one motel had any available rooms. Since it’s in the middle of nowhere, we thought they for sure would. Wrong. A town with population of a little over 2,000 had no vacancy. Neat. Back to Dennis and Peanut we go.

Tent pitched. Dinner (and by dinner, I mean chips and salsa rinsed down with warm white wine) consumed. Tomorrow was a brand new day. We’d drive into town, get service and find this damn ranger station since we booked it for two nights. In the morning, Dennis invited us inside for coffee and we met his wife Dee. Dennis and Dee. Always Sunny fans? I would like to think they named the community Peanut. Because they are. Two adorable little peanuts. They talked about the big fires a few years ago, having to flee their house for weeks, and bears stealing coffee off their back porch. Bears!

We said our thanks-for-saving-us goodbyes and moved on to the elusive Forest Glen Guard Station. Turns out it was about 25 minutes southwest of where Google Maps thought it was. When a reservation has the GPS coordinates listed, I guess you should follow it.

At last, we arrived. And how cute is it? At only $75 a night, it’s a steal. And sleeps 8. It’s the kind of cabin that could produce a squeal from the un-squealable (me). Nestled in the woods next to a bustling river, is this where the developer recorded sounds for our sleep app? Nature sounds awesome.

We spent the day sitting on our porch, exploring the forests including a section that was burned in the big fires that Dennis and Dee mentioned. So eerily beautiful. We made dinner, had a fire and went to bed like the elderly. Early. I’m going to fit in great at my future nursing home.

The next day, we packed up and headed to Mount Shasta. The land of crystal shops and hippies. Aka, my kinda place. We stayed at a KOA (Kampgrounds of America…did the Kardashians name this?) and pretty much had the entire place to ourselves. Because why? Because it gets quite cold at night in April. Noted. But we were able to prove our sleeping bags’ temperature ratings were accurate (32 degrees) and that our tent can survive a downpour and not leak. Score two points for us.

We were also able to try out a bunch of dehydrated (and delicious) camping food and test out our cooking stove. Check, we won’t starve when doing backcountry. Grizzly attacks? That’s another story.

When in roam, find a good hike with views of the massive Mount Shasta. Lake Siskiyou, or what I think should be renamed to Lake That’s Shaped Like a Dolphin. No, really. Google it. We wanted to hike around the entire lake, but in spring, they remove some bridges so you can’t get all the way around. So instead, we hiked in and back for a grand total of 7 miles. But a lot can happen in 7 miles. Like my phone (yes, I finally had service) blowing up to tell me Prince died. Fuck. For real? Confession, I cried. Not like bawling cry, but like have-something-in-my-eye cry. Prince rocked. Even that feels weird, to write about him in the past tense. That night, back at our campsite, we listened to Prince (on our kinda-purple portable speaker). Then, it rained. I would like to think it was the world crying for this insanely talented little man. And if you listened closely enough, I swear it was set to the beat of Pussy Control. RIP Prince.

Next up, our trip to Big Sur…and big branches falling on rental cars.