Take a Little Trip With Me...Part 1

a westward pilgrimage, with a dash of magic

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February 1, 2026 / Full Moon • Snow Moon

This post is a bit different than my usual full moon missives, more travelog-y. TIP: Click on the article title above for the best viewing experience.

Recently I returned from a 10-day journey, a kind of pilgrimage to my roots in Southern California and to bring my mom and dad’s ashes closer to their longtime hometown, Pasadena. This was also my first trip back to the area since 2019, when I helped my parents to move into an assisted living center in Santa Fe. Not long after that, the pandemic came, and then in 2021 I lost them both to COVID.

This was an old school road trip, a good deal of it along Historic Route 66, traversing the Colorado Plateau into the Mojave Desert all the way to the Pacific Ocean and back. I did it by car rather than plane or train because I was carrying my parents’ ashes, and they weren’t lightweight!

But as the trip went on, I realized how perfect it was to be doing this “with” them, because road trips were such a highlight of our family life. My dad was passionate about travel and for many years worked as a trip advisor for the AAA. Back in those days, before smartphones and GPS systems, folks had to rely on paper maps to find their way. Dad reveled in planning trips for people, and our house was filled to the gills with maps, “TripTiks,” and travel books. There was something just right about having both of them in the backseat, albeit in a much transfigured form, as I navigated the highways.

One of the things I most love about travel is how it often feels like I’m entering some kind of portal where synchronicity and magic come up in a much easier way than happens in life at home. I’m reminded of one of my favorite quotes, from Gary Snyder:

Like inside a big mind, the animals and humans all can talk, and those who pass through here get power to heal and help.

This trip had a lot of that going on. I’d love to share it with you, so hop in the car and let’s go!

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Day 1 was an easy drive to Winslow, Arizona (cue up the Eagles song). For many years I’ve stayed at La Posada, a classic railroad hotel that has been lovingly restored to its original glory. The Turquoise Room is the amazing restaurant inside the hotel where I savored pork carnitas and a prickly pear crème brulee that night, and the “Arizona Corn Maiden” for breakfast the next day. This was the biggest splurge of the whole trip, and entirely worth it.

Day 2 was another easy drive, Winslow to Kingman. I kept the miles low because I stopped in Flagstaff for a visit with a friend who until that point I’d only met online. Hilary Giovale is the author of Becoming a Good Relative and simply a good human being. It was wonderful to finally get to know each other in person as we took her dog YoYo for a long walk into the pine forests that thread through so much of Flagstaff.

Hilary clued me in to one of her favorite stores in town, Winter Sun. I stopped into this magical spot and met Phyllis, the owner, who gave me a warm welcome when she learned we both shared a friendship with Hilary, and walked out with some beautiful art cards and braided sweetgrass. Feeling energized and refreshed, I continued the westward drive, moving quickly because a rain and snowstorm was bearing down on the mountains around Flagstaff.

YoYo and Hilary

My first stop in Kingman was In ‘N Out Burger, an homage to my California roots. We don’t have them in New Mexico! To this day, I am convinced nobody makes a better burger/fries/shake combo. But the real highlight was my Airbnb, on the outskirts of town with a beautiful view of the valley to the south. The owners are animal lovers, and their backyard is home to a horse, chickens, and falcons and hawks. Greg, one of the owners, introduced me to his eagle hawk, Perry. I didn’t get a picture, so you’ll have to trust me when I tell you what a thrill it was to be up close and personal with a hawk and look right into his eyes, wild and wide with focus.

Not actually Perry…. but he looked like this

Day 3 finally brought me into California. I crossed the Mojave Desert – greener than I’d ever seen it with all the rain there in recent weeks -- and stopped in Victorville where I met up with my friend since first grade, Pattie, and her husband Tony. Two more wonderful human beings who I hadn’t seen since before the pandemic, and it was a stroke of grace that we were able to get together now as they were headed out the next morning for Utah.

Days 4, 5, 6, and 7 landed me at my destination -- Pasadena. Every day I was able to connect with family and friends who had been such a core part of my life when I grew up here, so long ago, and on the more recent trips when I was trying to figure out how best to support my aging parents.

I reveled in the warm temperatures and all the things that make Southern California feel like paradise — the San Gabriel mountains, lemon trees, colorful flowers blooming in the middle of winter.

And I discovered that when you’re working on a memoir, it’s incredibly helpful to visit the places that had a formative role in your life.

I saw the house I grew up in, now lived in by another family. That sweet Victorian farmhouse in the middle of Pasadena was such a nurturing container for my childhood.

Dad and me in front of our old house. I really did not like being dressed up in a dress!

I stopped by St. Andrews, the Catholic church and school I attended from first grade all the way through high school. Those buildings look the same, but Pasadena is a lot different than it was during my youth. Much of what’s now called Old Town has been gentrified beyond recognition. I remembered the stark contrast between the church – a beautiful brick building with a landmark clock tower that was designed after an Italian church – and the surrounding neighborhoods. Our parents would warn us to get to school quickly and avoid walking on Raymond and Fair Oaks Avenues. Back in those days, the streets were lined with flophouses, liquor stores, pawn shops, and the unforgettable Pussycat theater. I still recall walking by the marquee featuring “Deep Throat,” asking my mom what that movie was about, and seeing the horrified look on her face.

St. Andrew’s Catholic Church, Pasadena, CA

This whole time, I had mom and dad’s ashes with me but no real plan about where and how to release them. I hadn’t made any formal arrangements, and I could hear my mom’s ever penny-pinching voice in my head: “Don’t pay to do this! You can find something for free!”

One thought I had was to bring them to a park they loved, but a little research revealed that park authorities would not consider this okay. Still, I couldn’t get this idea out of my mind, it seemed just right.

My beloved friend Yael, who I knew from my days in the Bay Area, happened to be in Los Angeles the same time as me. We made a plan to spend a day together and had a great time showing each other sites from our youth – she had grown up here too, even though we didn’t know each other at that time of our lives. Original Tommy’s, Angel’s Flight, Beverly Hills, the Fairfax Farmer’s Market, our childhood homes… we covered lots of ground that day.

When we returned to Pasadena, Yael offered to help me on my mission with the ashes. We went to the park – which shall remain nameless – to do some reconnaissance, and found the perfect spot. She kept watch for me as I gently placed several handfuls of mom and dad’s ashes into the earth, under a pine tree. They made it home.

Dad, Mom, and Lucy, in the park that shall remain nameless

I was going to keep going with this trip all the way to the return back to New Mexico, but you know what, this feels like a perfect spot to end this travelog, at least for today. Time to pull the car over for a rest stop and bathroom break ; )

Thanks for taking the trip along with me, and maybe we’ll finish it up next full moon!

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