I Can't Exist Without You

I knew my clickbait title, may attract some of you. I'm talking about that travel bug that is itching me. We are planning a trip somewhere, which, if you've been following my Dark Nest Travels videos you would have been given three hints and may have figured it out. The past day has been full of that fluffy stuff that carries topics on your newsfeed, carry's memes in shape of ludicrous "hell freezing over" scenarios, but in me, there's an itch get the heck on the road.

Planning a trip is a tricky one, especially with projects for The Mothership just on the horizon, sometime in Spring. We are excited to get planning and are just waiting details, i.e, a date so we can put our plans in motion. But there are a few details, other than the realism that where we are going isn't "R.V. Friendly" (damn another hint)and will be renting a vehicle for the trip. The bug still persists on creating that scratch on our backs because travel is extremely intriguing and going someplace that we may have never planned in our past, has come to the forefront and we are ready to begin.

The first thing I like to do for a trip, whether it's planned or a last minute ditch effort to escape the confines of Dark Nest, yes it's a great place, but escaping it's small square footage is often necessary to live and to itch that scratch. I like do download all the maps required, and since we're not taking the motorhome, can use my Google Maps, which is the best map program used to this day. If there were a stand alone GPS unit that had Google Maps on it, I would own one. I don't like using the phone app when travelling with a motorhome, because sometimes the coverage that we carry doesn't allow for it, even downloading "offline" maps will not do the trick. So on this trip, I will take the time and download an "offline" version of my maps just in case there are spotty coverage.

The next thing we like to do, is figure out the gas expense. Most of you know how to do that by taking the miles of your trip and dividing those miles per gallon and you will get will get an accurate amount of fuel used.Take those gallons and multiply them by the average cost of fuel to get the amount.

Now I've just got the total cost of fuel for the trip, and the co-ordinates. We're almost there. I then plan where we're going to stay. With a motorhome, travel trailer, or fifth wheel, your place to stay is behind you, quite literally, the sheets clean the bedroom beckoning a weary soul tired from the road. Traveling with a rental vehicle your place to stay is ahead of you. I don't read too many reviews, but do love pictures, so I'll probably take the trips time into consideration, whether we need to stop the night before arriving to the destination or will we just drive straight through and stop at a room researched, which a lot of pictures, before the point of interest.

I can't exist without you,  a trip, whether it's a quick road trip, a jaunt across the states, somewhere, we can't exist without scratching that itch that has developed, especially with the impending news of cold, ice, below freezing wind chills and another potential Snowpocalypse. On that note, I hoped I helped some of you travellers that want to get out and explore, if not, there's other avenues to research, Google is a big place!

Thanks for reading, and if you're still interested in those hints of our travels, sometime in April, be sure to get over to Dark Nest Travels on youTube and check out the videos! Be sure to subscribe, we need viewers like you. Talk to you soon.

Dutch Waffles, A Family SECRET---and CAKE!

Maria and I have loved tradition, raising our seven children required many traditions, including but not limited to, flapjack Friday's, movie nights (Netflix and Rentals), camping, travel, and last, but not least, Dutch Waffles. 

I was introduced to Dutch Waffles back in the mid nineties. Maria's mom, respectfully known as, Oma, loved to create these heavy, sugary cakes around the Christmas Holiday. I remember distinctly the year that we started this tradition with Oma. That year she had gone through a triple heart bypass and Maria worried for her mother's state of mind and brought up the fact that we could make waffles to help cheer her up. Now in my head I had the vision of a breakfast "Belgian" waffle, loaded with butter and maple syrup with the potential of a side of sausage. To my surprise, this Dutch delicacy was the furthest thing from that, in both taste and texture.

We first received a list of ingredients, scrawled on a  piece of paper in Oma's handwriting mixed with both Dutch and English words. We purchased everything on the list, Maria, being the translator of it. Oma, waited patiently at home. When we arrived, paper bags loaded and heavy with the "secret" ingredients, Oma rummaged through the bags, ensuring that everything was accurate. Success, we got her approval. 

Oma, a usually quiet and reserved woman, began pointing out directions. I scurried through the house, following Maria's lead, because it was new and I was being let in on this secret that no one, but Oma, and now, me and Maria, had been keen on. To this day, I believe Maria, me, and now my own children know the recipe, no one else paid attention, we win.

The heavy waffle iron looked like a piece of equipment that belonged in an industrial kitchen. I schlepped it out to the table, ran a heavy extension cord, and the process began. I have always been obsessed with food, and was so intrigued as Oma gave me direction on mixing the ingredients, blending them together and watching her pour in some of the liquid required for the mix. I then blended it further "for consistency" Oma said, and watched as she stuck a finger in the ingredients and said that the mix was ready. Maria was at the table, her sister, to her right, who also had a part, waiting patiently for her task at hand.

The waffle iron was steaming, the red light went off as it reached temperature and Oma took her seat at the left side of Maria, watching and giving her input. Maria sprayed the iron, poured in the first scoop of Dutch waffle mix and the tradition had begun, years and years of tradition. Maria's sister cut the extra from the edges, cutting them in half, and Oma placed them in containers. Dutch waffles are best eaten chilled, not warm, and with butter on each cake. The butter brings out each delicious bite. Some Dutch people like a chocolate or fruit sprinkle, known as Hagelslag, on top of the buttery layer.

Oma let me in on another secret, using the same ingredients of the Dutch Waffle, it was a cake, loaded with sugary goodness, enough to put a non-diabetic into a diabetic coma if moderation wasn't heeded. We made that cake one year with Oma, it had to be at least eight layers tall (the taller the cake the more success), mocha frosting, an apricot center between each layer, and sprinkled with Dutch Hagelslag. This was Oma's last time ever making the cake prior to her death in October 2002. 

When Oma passed, it took a year from her passing and much sadness, to begin our own family tradition with the Dutch Waffle Recipe, which I made a promise to her not to share with anyone. It was an homage to Oma's legacy of Christmas tradition, and Maria and I felt it necessary to share with our own children. This was a tradition that we have done off and on for years, and although I don't have a picture of the waffles after the creation, we recreated the Dutch Cake and I found an archived photo of the cake in its glory. The picture below was only seven layers, we dared not add more!

A future Dark Nest Travels video will feature these Dutch Waffles , brought back full circle as our adult children come over on Christmas Eve and share in their Oma's Dutch Tradition.

We miss you Oma, this year's Dutch Waffle creation is for YOU!

Semi-Retirement...Life Ship..."LIKE" VS. "PURCHASE"

So, as many of you know, it's official, I am semi-retired. The definition is loose, so I'll leave it up to your imagination. It's a little uncanny when I've been working a large part of my life, and now, I'm relaxed, to a point. I've been challenging myself to write, that's what I truly love doing. Sometimes, though, I really have to kick my own a** to get into gear. I've had many suggestions to write something less graphic, less shocking...something with emotion, something that strikes the nerves of my readers who don't have the stomach for my "other" fiction. My horror often strikes nerves, but it typically involves being terrified to pick the book back up, unless, of course, that is the selected genre.

I took this request, of writing something "normal", from family, friends and readers alike, very serious. I've even posted some of Life Ship on this blog, which I've taken down, due to the potential publication of the story. I worked with a good friend of mine to edit, he's the best, with a critical eye and I couldn't have done it without him, thank you Brent Seth! Lake Leviathan took a risk with me to publish a "short story" in paperback. (a quick 36 page read)

This is a story that was inspired by our 1964 Airstream Globetrotter and my overactive imagination. It's a sentimental tale of death, love, family, and the anchors of memory through the eyes of the main character, Jimmy, the youngest of four. He's pressed with the task of his parents' wishes, and takes it on, head first. He's faced with the emotions of loneliness on the road as he treks through the United States to make it back to his hometown of Stevats. On the journey he connects with his siblings who have already jumped into life, where his life, being the youngest, had not too long ago, started.

I know most of my friends on facebook and other social media sites "like" my posts, my links, hell, some of you even watch my Dark Nest Travels videos posted weekly. I'm "semi-retired" now, and doing what I love, writing, travel, at times, and enjoying the holidays for the first time in a very long time. So I'm encouraging all of you to support me, if you believe in my skills, know my story, and realize how long creative endeavors can take to complete, to purchase your copy. Press "like" if you want, but press purchase on the Amazon page, and splurge knowing you're supporting the skills I have to truly connect with my readers.

Take the risk, if you can call it that, take a chance and give me the benefit of the doubt, you're out only $6.99 (that's a steal). Thank you all for reading my blog, watching my videos, and mostly for being you. Each and everyone of you have done something in my life to make a connection and I appreciate all those connections. Happy reading! I'll talk to everyone soon!

Click here to PURCHASE: Life Ship (Amazon)

Maria, November 27th, This is for YOU!

It’s November 27^th, and my wife, Maria, celebrates her birthday. We’ve spent many years’ together, celebrating, loving, and raising our family. I couldn’t have done any of these things if I didn’t have those years to share with her. She is my light, she is my cornerstone, and in this life her existence is what I needed to ground me to the reality of our marriage, children, and home(s) that we’ve made together.  We’ve been up at our highest, down at our lowest, in moments of sadness, and have overcome many obstacles that rip on emotions like a tornado rips through houses and neighborhoods, and she kept it together for me and what matters to her the most, her family.

I sometimes ask why I deserve such a prodigious woman in my life. A woman who constantly puts her needs in front of those in her family. A woman who encourages me to get off my procrastinating butt and write, achieve, and plan for our future together, growing old together, and nurturing further on this adventure. Words, although beautifully articulate, cannot really express the love I have for Maria, but I do my best to give her these. Thank you so much, Maria, my bride, my angel in disguise, for being my rock, and for loving me and the family we’ve raised together. I love you!

Nataia Calloway -- A Life Gone too Soon

I have taken a small break, until now, for a reason. The world lost someone very special to many people. A young person who struggled and fought a disease that chose her. She was a hard working young person who had started her career in college, which ended too short, to fight the disease that eventually took her life from everyone around her. Nataia was a loving, caring daughter, sister, and friend to many who she has touched on such a personal level, she forever had a listening ear. She was hard working, and had a strong will for life. She had a smile on her face, always. She had compassion in her life for those around her, and it was endless.

I heard the news and my heart broke, it was shattered because in retrospect this young Nataia grew up around me, through her mom, Jen’s, stories. I had the honor of working with Jen in the backroom for many years. It was a privilege to work with someone that had the same interest in family on the level that she had. She spoke about Nataia and her son, Kadeem, endlessly, and we shared many stories of our family life in between the job. So in a sense her children grew up around me. The look in Jen’s eyes, a sparkle, really, was the love she had, I knew this. Jen smiled often, laughed, and her love was so deep for her children.

When I heard of Jen’s loss, I couldn’t believe it, a close friend had lost someone who she’d fight and die for. Nataia, who will never be replaced in Jen’s life, and my thoughts were broken and dark realizing that Jen was facing this; I’m sure, with such a heavy heart, and many sleepless nights thereafter.  I cried for her loss, I’m sad for Nataia’s family and friends. Jen has a strong connection with people and a hard work ethic that is incomparable to those around her and to have this precious piece of her heart gone is a heavy burden. Jen’s empathy for others often far outweighed her own sadness or problems and I pray for her continuously through this loss, through these times that may create doubt in her mind of many things. The questions, the endless pain, will, with the love of her family and friends, help to make it easier, but never bring Nataia back.

Nataia, in Jen’s life was a shining force, and she earnestly inherited it from being raised by a mother who had much love and compassion for that which meant the most to her, her family. A piece of that family is missing, a piece that is Nataia, and the piece can never be retrofitted, but only thought about often, her memories still a strong presence in the lives she touched. She was needed somewhere and the need caused a big hole in the heart of many. Nataia, on your journey, you will always be thought about, you will forever create tears that travel down our cheeks, and your wings can now be spread far and wide to reach the place we all dream about, the place called home. Thank you, Jen, for touching my life and sharing your family with me, and thank you Nataia for being a smiling face to me whenever I’d see you.

Nataia Calloway - February 21st 1998 - November 5th 2018

1985, Cherished Memories, and Wood Grain

Autumn weather does something to me, it inspires me, it takes me on a journey down the road of the past. Yes, the past. Our heads are full of memories, traditions, and it's my way of making "time" travel happen. It takes me to a simpler time, one without Blogs like this one, Videos like the videos I post (although there are many home videos that exist from this time buried in time capsules throughout our house), and social media. Our minds are the time machine, and I travel in it quite often, and my dad, he's full of time travel. He's a connoisseur when it comes to turning back the clock, selecting a memory or family member, and talking about that time line that we walked in our younger years.

My dad was the first to fine tune my mind to technology, so he's partly to blame (thank) for my infatuation with the newest gadget, which as I get older they become less enticing, unless I can use them as a tool to get somewhere, i.e. our travels. I remember the excitement with our family when he brought home a large camcorder, the first we've ever seen. It had a microphone that wasn't a "dead cat" just a large boom that looked like the end of a cattail. It required full VHS tapes, and arms of steel to hold the thing because it was so heavy. There wasn't VHS-C, there wasn't 8mm, and there wasn't DVD camcorders, available to the common consumer, and the future was aeons away from inventing digital media. He introduced me to betamax, and his eventual relentless frustration with the video rental stores discontinuing renting beta and converting to VHS, vividly sticks out in my mind (remember DVD to BluRay?). He introduced me to the first VCR, wood grain and all, (something about the popularity of wood grain on vehicles and appliances), and it actually had a timer, so far ahead of its time (well before digital hard drives and DVR's). These inventions along with some of the best music and movies of my life, were all a great part of family times sitting around the television and sharing our fears as we watched a movie, a new release video tape, or a television series, yes, tv series that we couldn't binge watch.

I have to say he was probably inspired by his own father, my grandfather, Carl Eagle, pictured below. I heard tales of my grandfather's creations. He was born in 1914 and left us in 1985. The things he saw, the inventions and innovative automobiles of his time had to be mind blowing as well as the electricity in its infancy during his impressionable years. He jumped into all of it , he had a dying urge to learn and learn he did. He taught my own dad about electricity, and who better to teach than a man who watched these inventions unfold into a world that never had it?

I owe a lot to that man, for one, he created my father. The picture above was how I remember him, although he wasn't smiling, he wore a green work uniform and it appears, in this picture, that he nicked himself shaving .

I was in middle school, seventh grade. I walked to the bus stop which happened to be near my grandfather's house, a mile or so down the road from my house. I'd stop in and visit him, leaving my house early every morning, to talk. He'd always be up, his television murmuring in the background and always seemed pleased that I'd stop by. October is the month I remember most, the month we connected. I told him that I'd be trick or treating, and he laughed saying that he wanted to collect colorful leaves and put them in sandwich bags and pass them out. He was joking of course. Having low blood sugar he had to watch his candy intake. I remember talking to him about everything and listening to him. I liked to hear him laugh. The school year progressed, conversations resumed, and before I knew it December rolled around. I remember getting home and looked at his house. I wanted to go in, but hesitated because something seemed off. I went home and found out the news that he was in the hospital with pneumonia. I remember hearing the phone ringing and conversations about "Ed's dad" dying, as my mom dialed everyone on our home phone. I cried in my bed, because I didn't get the opportunity to know my grandfather as I could have. I cried because I was just getting curious about my family and at that point realized I never would know him that way, only through stories told to me by my dad.

What I did know about my grandpa was that he was a crane operator, operated mostly behind the old Dairy Queen that was on Military Street in downtown Port Huron. He had retired as I was growing up. He loved gadgets, this I know, by strolling to the musty barn at the back of his property, that once housed pigs. I remember seeing a coffee pot switch which he converted into a night light. It was stuck into a plug socket and glowed orange. He loved to weld, I still have a couple playground things that still exist today, albeit replacing the wood that rotted over time. He owned property, sold property, built houses, one which still exists in Gladwin, where our cabin was built, and one where my dad finished growing up in, the house I visited with frequency. I remember the chickens that he used to raise for meat, and the family barbeques at his house, the smell of his home grown chicken, rotisserie style, rolling slowly over a charcoal grill that he constructed out of brick.

I wish I'd gotten to know more about the man as I grew up, but didn't. I do get to live vicariously through my dad as he talks with pride about my grandfather, and that's better than nothing at all. I do know that the December he died Christmas was sad, because he wasn't around to share it with us anymore, and that I couldn't talk with him or grow up with him in my life. I remember the last Christmas present I got from my Grandpa, it was a gadget, they were battery operated headphones, only for radio, but they were awesome. I still have them stuffed away in a trunk of youthful treasures and get them out from time to time, they still operate, as far as I know. I think about him often when Autumn is in the air, and wonder how life would have been if he'd lived five, or even ten more years. The eighties were times of innovation for my own development, as well as all those intricate household items that I got to see as my dad continued to grant me access. I will forever cherish the knowledge my grandfather passed to my dad, and the knowledge my dad passes to me, and will hold them, and the memories, dear to my heart. Thanks, Grandpa, for being you, and thanks Dad for always being an inspiration in my life today!

Thanks for reading about our lives. Don't forget to subscribe to Dark Nest Travels on YouTube and follow us on Instagram at: darknesttravels. Thanks for stopping by and keeping up to date on our life, in its genesis and the unfolding path that is just ahead.

Dark Nest Travels : Hiawatha, Aliens, Sasquatch and Soldier Lake

Close your eyes for a minute. Nevermind, bad idea, you wouldn't be able to read. Okay, close your eyes after reading the blog... a crisp serene body of water, fine ripples waft, there is no wake, but the deep sound of silence, except for a distant loon entering the ears. Imagine the array of colors hanging on the trees, bright reds, oranges, deep purples, the reflection mirrored off the serenity of the lake. Nature surrounds, and although wooded creatures were hidden out of view, they are sleepy and crawling through the forest surrounding the deep campground. Our third Airstream, a 1964 Globetrotter, is parked, nestled into an arboraceous deep lot. The place is Hiawatha National Forest on Soldier Lake. 

The Upper Peninsula has so much to offer, but the month of September, the very month we said our vows in 1996, is serene. Everyone's back to work, back to school, and people are a little less apt to travel and clutter up the natural beauty Michigan's Upper has to offer. We set off for our first Boondocking (for those of you not familiar, camping with only our battery and propane to self sustain life, AKA: dry camping), in 2014, visiting Hiawatha in her Autumn beauty.

We brought along our fishing poles, tossing a lure or two into the waters. Our camp chairs nestled on the sandy cattailed shoreline. We are not fisherpeople, so didn't catch anything, but the feeling of serenity that surrounded us, the calm demeanor that only nature tends to offer shrouded us. The sound of a loon laughing quietly echoing, and as we listened closer we could hear leaves rustling as a fine breeze whispered through the branches. We had each other, have each other, and we were content. We spent about five nights in this beautiful place, only three other campers sprawled out through the campground, all distant and quiet cocooned in their own comforts. 

Hiawatha is probably more packed during the heavy tourist months of summer, but at that moment we were a solitaire unit, in a wooded area with no electricity, there wasn't a city glow to take away the shine of the stars that blanketed the sky overhead, it was pitch black in the night, the embers of a campfire crackled, and there was peace. Peace because being in this solitude, without technology to distract, without the noise of our personal lives, helped us to relax, reflect, and realize that we loved this life and would do anything in the future to become Dark Nest Travels.

Thanks so much for coming along. If you're more of a visual person, our newest video of Hiawatha has been uploaded to our youTube channel, Dark Nest Travels, featuring Aliens and Sasquatches.

Thanks for reading about our lives. Don't forget to subscribe to Dark Nest Travels on YouTube and follow us on Instagram at: darknesttravels. Thanks for stopping by and keeping up to date on our life, in its genesis and the unfolding path that is just ahead.